Where did you come from?
How far did you float?
Too twisted and torn
to come from a boat.
What tide washed you here
and flung you ashore?
If you could but speak,
I’d love to know more.
Looking out to the Tasman Sea from New Zealand. Photo by Ginette Pestana
My nose and eyes were trickling
And my throat was really tickling.
I was coming down with something, I could tell.
And I had this premonition
my particular condition
would be something that was very hard to spell.
I was sure I had an “itis”,
and most probably bronchitis
but the doctor’s looked me over, and I’m told
I don’t have pharyngitis
and I don’t have laryngitis.
What I’ve got is just a simple, common cold.
The new morning
quietly greets the day,
the soft dawning
rippling the bay,
teasing the cloud,
lighting the sky,
boats in a crowd,
and on the shore,
I wonder what the
day will be,
what adventures are
in store for me.
Near Picton, New Zealand. Photo by Ginette Pestana
I will leave behind the old shore,
that spent and weary year,
and cross over to the new,
bright and blue and clear.
I can see the peaks I’ll climb,
I’ll achieve my dreams — you’ll see!
I’ll make the world a better place,
the best year it can be.
A New Zealand lake and mountains. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Now we’ve seen the new year in
and seen the old one out,
How were all our past days spent
and what they were about?
Good days and bad days
Quiet days and mad days
Low days and glad days
Slow days and sad days
All those days that took away
twelve months of our time –
They were the days –
These are the days
of auld lang syne
Since dawn the sky was low,
no glimpse of you allowed;
now I see you clearly,
rising through the cloud.
Brave ones dare to climb you,
facing terrors all the way;
but I’m no mountaineer,
down here I will stay!
Teacher’s note: Mount Cook — Aoraki (its Maori name) — is New Zealand’s highest mountain.
In 2014, its height was given as 3,724 metres.
Photo by Ginette Pestana
Up the tree Molly flew
to a bird attached at the top
But halfway up her nail stuck
and there she had to stop
In the midst of all the tree lights
Molly let out a cat like groan
“If you get me down from here now
I’ll leave that bird alone”
Photo from Pexels by tripleMdesignz
Hello! Is anyone there? Hello and Hello!
I’m the handsome Cape African buffalo
No one’s succeeded in taming me
So I live contented, wild and free
Apart from hopeful lions and crocs
I survive quite well with very few shocks.
My worst nightmare? to be stalked and hunted
And by men with guns to be confronted
They shoot me dead, my blood runs red
Then on their walls they mount my head.
No care that each pair of stolen horns
Leaves a buffalo mother who weeps and mourns.
We’re one of Africa’s most dangerous beasts
At frightening hunters, we’re quite the artistes.
We’re heavy and stocky and pretty darned large
So, gun bearing hunters who force us to charge
Take one of us on and you take on the herd
We all fight together, once given the word.
Both buffalo genders grow great curly horns
Just perfect for running through bush and through thorns
The horns of the male grow a whole fifth longer
And they’re joined in the middle to make them stronger
This difference in structure is called the ‘boss’
The females don’t have it, but it’s really no loss.
Cape’s a strong buffalo – eighteen hours on the go
Daily hunting and grazing and dodging his foe
Thirty points off two m* is around his height –
Now that’s tall enough to give hunters a fright.
And get this: he can often weigh close to a ton
A beast that size could sure spoil your fun.
Now – here’s a special word to enrich your life
But using it may cause all sorts of strife
Most people your age have never seen it
And yet in some ways they’ve probably been it!
Well come on then, let’s have the word
I want to be a clever nerd.
Symbiotic’s the word, it means helping each other
Working together, like friend and brother.
An example of this is the buffalo’s cleaner
On head or back, you’ll not see one keener
Than the little Oxpecker who scours his skin
Making really sure that no nasties get in.
The Oxpecker bird has a bill red or yellow
He’s a useful mate and a really good fellow.
He picks off the ticks that bother the buff’
He eats all the insects that make his life rough
And by cleaning his friend he gets a good meal
And both of them reckon that that’s a good deal.
Without the bird he’d be covered with ticks
That’s not a good way to get your kicks
So the little Oxpecker performs this service
He does it for free – no need to get nervous
They give to each other, that’s really nice
And there’s never a word said about price.
That’s all for today of the African jungle
My brain’s asleep and I don’t want to bungle
The info I share ‘bout this Natural wonder
And the dear little birds who peck and plunder
So I’ll say goodbye and a snooze I’ll borrow –
I’ll be on the next page as soon as tomorrow.
*m = metres
Photo from Pexels by Harvey Sapir
I am an eagle now in flight,
my wings will lift me high,
above the crowded peaks
that claw into the sky.
I soar among the jagged crags,
they hold no fear for me;
this is the eagle’s kingdom,
and the eagle will be free.
Photo by James Aitchison
The river flowed
With milk and cream
Washed over me
I swam upstream.
Samson was there
My trusty dog
Swimming beside me
In a thick fog.
I couldn’t make out
What lay ahead
Just trepidation and
A little dread.
Out of the shadows
I spotted a bird
It spoke English
Which was quite absurd
It directed us to
What appeared to be
An alien vessel
With free entry.
Samson and I
Were a little confused
But at the same time
A little amused.
We walked up a ramp
Slimy and white
And there before us
An unusual sight.
Mice on a wheel
Going round and round
Keeping time with
An annoying sound.
It was loud and sharp
And hurt my head
I opened my eyes
I was in bed.
Was it a nightmare
Or was it a dream
Or an alternate world
Of milk and cream?
Photo from Pexels by Ron Lach
Australian Children’s Poetry 