is written
on the calendar.
but then I walk
past my daughter’s
old school,
knees clicking.
poking its head
out of the soil
is a paper daisy, saying,
spring,
spring has sprung.
Photo from Pexels by Stuart Robinson
Every spring I lose my house —
it likes to disappear —
behind the flowers and bushes
that grow so fast round here.
No more bare old branches,
no more empty beds;
there’s greenery and colour
that everywhere turns heads.
Spring wakes up my garden,
puts magic in the air,
along with different scents
a-drifting here and there.
Springtime at an old miner’s cottage, Creswick, Victoria. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Hello, Daphne, by the fence,
aren’t your flowers full of scents!
You’ve been asleep all winter long,
now you’re blooming sweet and strong.
You spice the breeze and fill the air,
your flowers white, your fragrance rare.
The moment all your blooms appear,
you tell me that spring is here.
Photo credit Ginette Pestana
Why is it called a bearded iris?
There’s not a whisker in sight.
Unless, of course, it had a shave
sometime in the night.
I think it looks just great
without a bristling beard,
and it if had a moustache
that would look very weird!
Bearded iris. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Sunshine and warmer weather are here along with swooping magpies and hay fever! The smell of wattle is in the air and flowers are blooming. Send in your Spring poems to ozchildrenspoetry@gmail.com
Don’t forget to add the URL and proper attribution to any photos you send in with your poems.
Photo by Daiga Ellaby on Unsplash
The tadpole’s now a frog – how strange!
and where’s that duckling gone?
It’s undergone some mystic change
and turned into a swan!
The caterpillar’s been reshaped,
been made a butterfly.
Once, just a bug, it’s now escaped
to navigate the sky.
Spectacular and free to see
in grasslands, trees and ponds
these wondrous acts of wizardry
require no magic wands.
Photo by Pixabay
A wilderness of tea-trees
In our paddock playground
One free day in the midst of childhood
A day filled with everything
We are wild things,
Charging, ducking, hiding,
Flies swatting our sweaty faces
A dove, startled, flies up and
Petals fall like a sprinkle of rain
As we play
Cowboys and Indians
With imaginary guns
Bang! Bang! You’re dead!
Falling to the ground face-up
Wisps of clouds slide above
As if breathing in and out.
Photo from Pexels by jonas mohamadi
i pluck weeds
by a white wall
come spring
i move the mower
over a mountain of green
come spring
i brush the rough
old deck clean
come spring
i look up at
all the weeds
growing in the gutter
In response to prompt Spring Has Sprung
Upon arrival of September
There’s one thing I do remember:
Winter’s gone and spring is here
Bringing warmth back to the year.
Giving us more outdoor fun,
Extra time beneath the sun.
Walking barefoot on the grass,
Sipping fruit juice from a glass.
Football finals if you’re keen;
Horses racing on the green.
Pack your coats and gloves away,
Birds within your backyard play.
Birthing time for kangaroos,
Platypus and wombats too.
Blossoms grow with colours fair,
Pollen floating through the air.
Of spring I’m a great believer,
So why now must I have hay fever?
How can I smell a lovely rose
When suffering from an itchy nose?
I long to feel the evening breeze
Without an urge to cough and sneeze.
But let me cast those thoughts asunder;
Spring should be a time of wonder.
So sit beneath a shady tree,
Go watch the surfers at the sea.
I love the springtime sunset skies,
Albeit seen through teary eyes.
Australian Children’s Poetry 