The sun is warm, the fish are biting
Snapper, squid and shoals of whiting
Ice-cream jingles sound inviting –
Summer’s on its way.
The breeze is up, the current’s running
Tourists bare their legs for sunning
Seagulls stealing chips are cunning –
Summer’s on its way.
The sky is bright, the waves are rolling
Zinc-nosed lifeguards are patrolling
Cricket-crazy kids are bowling –
Summer’s here – let’s play!
The shapes I like are conical. They taper to the tip.
Perhaps you’ve seen some shells like that when going for a dip.
Such shells are very pretty and they’re great fun to collect:
Their range of colours, streaks and spots – much more than you’d expect!
While at the beach you may well see a different kind of cone:
Far bigger, in a lifeguard’s hand, it’s called a megaphone.
Through this his booming voice is heard to call us back to shore.
It’s warning us of danger we’d be foolish to ignore.
When heading home, our swimming done, one final cone I eat.
I’m sure you’ve guessed just what it is, so icy cold and sweet!
Then as I lick the one I pick, my tongue can taste and test.
Of all the cones I’ve ever known, I like an ice-cream best!
Monty says: With no clear direction, I made a list of shapes, along with articles that either embodied them or words that rhymed with them. I wanted to avoid the familiar square/cube and circle/sphere and work with something specific that was less common and also three dimensional. From my list of words and ideas the resources for a seaside scenario emerged featuring the cone.
I lift a hand up to my eyes
While scuffing shoes and shooing flies
Watching the heat cloud wave and rise
As I journey under cloudless skies
The path is long to our home gate
The only traffic, trucks and freight
Frustrating if the mail is late
Meaning yet another day to wait
But not today, I have no fear
I sense it as I’m drawing near
That in that box, with address clear
Today I know, my book is here
Unwrapping it, the cover cold
Embossed with letters nice and bold
What tales are waiting to be told?
What new adventures will unfold?
I lift my hand up to my eyes
Now flying feet and fleeing flies
Watching the heat cloud wave and rise
As I journey under cloudless skies.
TIME
I put off going to bed,
The cloud cover,
Keeps the heat in…
And the stillness
Is oppressive.
Robins, wrens, honey eaters,
Panted the day away,
In shaded canopy,
Their beaks open.
Too hot to complain.
I open up the house,
All the doors; windows.
Something might wander in…
But hopefully,
It will wander out.
Thrown wide,
It’s no longer a house.
It’s a shelter,
A secret place.
A bed in the forest.
Under the sheets,
I listen to the night’s music.
Muted waves break,
Crickets click, ruffled feathers soften.
And at last, the birds are asleep.
Image courtesy of Rosemary Ratcliff at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
We scrabble over sun
warmed rocks and peer into
rock pools. Small crabs scuttle
sideways, sea anemones wave
and we climb on further- feet slip
in rubber thongs and we glimpse
a squishy sea cucumber, silkworm
soft. In another pool lies a blue starfish.
We race to the ocean to cool our skin,
water so clear we see a large bream flick
its tail and swim off into the depths.
Australian Children’s Poetry 