Plants have no brains
but scientists find
that trees seem to think
and weeds change their mind!
Mimosa we know as a
sensitive weed.
It folds up its leaves
when a threat is perceived.
Repeatedly dropped
on a soft mat of foam
Mimosa stops folding
as foam does no harm.
Days and weeks later
no folding leaves shows
when dropped on soft foam
Mimosa still knows!
Image by Leopictures from Pixabay
Time’s a kind of mystery,
not made of anything.
We treat it like a measurement.
A time-line piece of string.
But NOW-time can be different,
depending where things are.
We look back over many years
when gazing at a star.
The speed time passes, tick & tock
depends on where things go.
If gravity’s extremely strong
that tick & tock go slow.
Since Einstein showed us Spacetime,
THEN & THERE were surely wed.
And WHEN & WHERE got married too …
and share a Spacetime bed!
The march began with just one child
who yearned to live in peace.
Then came their friends and their friends too –
calling for wars to cease.
Join the children in their march
from whatever land you come.
March. March. March for peace!
March to the beating drum.
It all began with just one child.
Now watch the numbers grow.
Children want to live in peace.
They won’t stop until it’s so.
Join the children in their march
from whatever land you come.
March. March. March for peace!
March to the beating drum.
‘We don’t want to live in fear
of soldiers with tanks or a gun.
We want to see a clear blue sky.
We want to play in the sun.’
So join the children in their march
from whatever land you come.
March. March. March for peace!
March to the beating drum.
March, march, march for peace!
March to the beating drum!
Illustrations by Helen Nieuwendijk
A bugle in the frosty dawn,
each note hanging in the air,
then falling into silence
like the guns did, over there.
A voice recites a poem,
the vast crowd standing hushed;
every head is bowed,
every soul is touched.
Soon the men will march,
their memories aflame,
their banners held aloft,
each battle has a name.
And we who watch will know
that what we have was born
in blood and sacrifice,
on that first grim Anzac morn.
Photo from Pexels by Pixabay
I hear what sounds like footsteps
From beneath the stairs
Where all my many sneakers live
In colour coded pairs.
I hear a lot of movement
And voices raised up high
There seems to be contention
Amongst sneakers standing by.
Each want to have an outing
And are fighting for position
But fail to understand
That the choice is my decision.
It’s all about my wardrobe
And what I choose to wear
Determining my selection
Although seemingly unfair.
The noise is getting louder
I will have to take some action
Read to them the riot act
To end this senseless faction.
So down the stairs I go
Open the cupboard door
To find all the sneakers
Lying quietly on the floor.
A smile returns to my lips
As I survey sneakers galore
Admiring the many colours
And for them what lay in store.
Image from Stockcake
I’d blown the birthday candles out
and sliced up all the cake
and then I did a silly thing.
I made a grave mistake.
I chose to do a clever trick
I’d seen performed before,
a trick to stun my party guests,
to dazzle them, for sure.
And so I grabbed the table cloth
and yanked with all my might,
anticipating gasps of awe
and squeals of pure delight.
But sadly, nothing stayed in place,
I can’t forget the sound
of glasses, bowls and dinner plates
all crashing to the ground.
The birthday cake, the party pies
and every other treat
went hurtling briefly through the air
then landed at our feet.
I could have been an instant star
but I’d just blown my chance.
If only I had made the time
to practise in advance.
Photo from Pexels by Ivan Samkov
Photo by Linda Davidson
I’d hate to be a hairbrush,
by the mirror, waiting there;
my bristles would get clogged up
with strands of yucky hair.
Everybody uses me,
no one seems to care;
red hair, black hair, grey hair too —
a technicolor scare!
Image from Pexels by RDNE Stock project
Australia has been called the lucky country,
Most people have clothes and rarely go hungry.
We are free to vote and have our say,
But is it best to get our own way?
Our multicultural nation is full of colourful people.
We should respect one another and treat them as equal.
With a variety of religion, upbringing and race,
Let’s love one another and show plenty of grace.
Our differences make for vibrant discussion.
There’s so much we can learn from hearing each other.
Try praying for peace as you make some new friends,
And hope for a future where love never ends.
Let’s all come together in twenty, twenty-five,
To listen and learn, then together we’ll thrive.
Image from Vecteezy
Australian Children’s Poetry 
