Tag Archives: Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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Are you a children’s poet with a passion for sharing poetry and promoting Australian children’s poets and their work?

An enthusiastic volunteer is needed to take over the administration of this popular blog.

After working on Australian Children’s Poetry for two and a half years, I feel the time has come to step aside and hand over to someone new because I have a number of writing projects that will be demanding more of my attention over coming months. It’s been such an enjoyable experience being involved in the site and connecting with so many wonderful children’s poets. Your generosity in sharing your work with others for the Poem of the Day posts has been overwhelming and it’s always exciting to see what new poems have turned up in my in box in response to the weekly Poetry Prompts, which are fun to create.

Basically the administrator’s role involves receiving poems by email and posting the Poem of the Day to the blog, approving (or trashing spam) comments, updating the A-Z of Australian children’s poets as required and sharing information about competitions and articles about Australian children’s poetry.

If you’re interested in taking on this voluntary role, please contact me at teenawriter@gmail.com or Dianne Bates at dibates@outlook.com

Teena

Santa’s New Clothes by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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Santa’s New Clothes

 

Santa had a problem—his special suit no longer fit.

It was snug around the tummy. When he sat, his trousers split.

One bight and early morning, Mrs Santa said:

“Dear, I must tell you something that I read.

I love you roly-poly, I love you as you are,

but if you took a health test you wouldn’t get a star.

It’s really most important to have a healthy heart

and if you want a long life, it’s not too late to start.”

Santa called in at the health club—the trainer checked him out.

She said: “We’ll plan a program that’ll work without a doubt.”

She booked him in for workouts three times every week,

then talked about his diet and told him what to eat.

He ate lots of fruit and vegies, chose grilled instead of fried

for every single main meal, with salads on the side.

He said no to morning tea cakes and had carrot sticks instead.

Whenever offered sweet treats, he firmly shook his head.

Santa also started walking quite early in the day

and soon those extra kilos began to melt away.

He said: “I feel fantastic, this year will be a breeze.

I’ll deliver all those presents without the slightest wheeze.

I won’t get stuck in chimneys or struggle up steep stairs

or stop to have a rest whenever I see chairs.”

Then on Christmas Eve, a problem as Santa dressed to leave.

His suit no longer fit him except for length of sleeve.

His top was loose and baggy where tight it was before,

and when he pulled his trousers up, they slid down to the floor.

He looked at Mrs Santa. “Whatever will we do?

Perhaps some safety pins? Could you sew a seam or two?

We need a quick solution for I really ought to go.

The children are all waiting and I can’t be late, you know.”

Mrs Santa nodded and tried to hide a smile.

“Thank goodness it’s late shopping. This will only take a while.”

So that’s why this year Santa won’t be wearing his red suit.

He’s got a brand new outfit. Mrs Santa thinks it’s cute.

It’s a bright red fleecy tracksuit for warmth in North Pole cold,

and a pair of sporty sneakers replacing boots of old.

For his head a woolly beanie instead of pom pom cap.

So if one Christmas evening you should glimpse a bearded chap

who looks a lot like Santa except he’s fit and trim,

don’t think that you’re mistaken, for yes, you’re right, it’s him!

Teena Raffa-Mulligan

Moving Marvel by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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Moving Marvel

I can

Banana bend

Licorice twist

Jelly wibble wobble.

 

See me

Caterpillar creep

Snake slither

Deer dash and dart.

 

I am

Rock steady

Tree tall

River rush and flow.

 

Love this

Body mine

Body strong

This moving marvel.

 Teena Raffa-Mulligan

First Published in Blast Off July 2005

Leaf Lace by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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Leaf lace

 

Lace maker

Toils secretly

Tucked out of sight;

Creates ornate

Patterns

Until they’re just right.

Delicate, intricate

Handiwork done

Designer departs

To start

The next one.

Serrates, decorates

All my plants in this way.

I confess

I’m impressed

At this leaf lace display.

Teena Raffa-Mulligan
  • First published in Orbit by The School Magazine (May 2016)

Santa’s New Clothes by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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Santa’s New Clothes

 

Santa had a problem for his suit no longer fit.

It was snug around the tummy. When he sat, his trousers split.

One bight and early morning, Mrs Santa said:

“My dear, I must tell you something that I read.

I love you roly-poly, I love you as you are,

but if you took a health test you wouldn’t get a star.

It’s really most important to have a healthy heart

and if you want a long life, it’s not too late to start.”

Santa called in at the health club—the trainer checked him out.

She said: “We’ll plan a program that will work without a doubt.”

She booked him in for workouts three times every week,

then talked about his diet and told him what to eat.

He ate lots of fruit and vegies, chose grilled instead of fried

for every single main meal, with salads on the side.

He said no to morning tea cakes and had carrot sticks instead.

Whenever offered sweet treats, he firmly shook his head.

Santa also started walking quite early in the day

and soon those extra kilos began to melt away.

He said: “I feel fantastic, this year will be a breeze.

I’ll deliver all those presents without the slightest wheeze.

I won’t get stuck in chimneys or struggle up steep stairs

or stop to have a rest whenever I see chairs.”

Then on Christmas Eve, a problem as Santa dressed to leave.

His suit no longer fit him except for length of sleeve.

His top was loose and baggy where tight it was before,

and when he pulled his trousers up, they slid down to the floor.

He looked at Mrs Santa. “Whatever will we do?

Perhaps some safety pins? Could you sew a seam or two?

We need a quick solution for I really ought to go.

The children are all waiting and I can’t be late, you know.”

Mrs Santa nodded and tried to hide a smile.

“Thank goodness it’s late shopping. This will only take a while.”

So that’s why this year Santa won’t be wearing his red suit.

He’s got a brand new outfit. Mrs Santa thinks it’s cute.

It’s a bright red fleecy tracksuit for warmth in North Pole cold,

and a pair of sporty sneakers replacing boots of old.

For his head a woolly beanie instead of pom pom cap.

So if one Christmas evening you should glimpse a bearded chap

who looks a lot like Santa except he’s fit and trim,

don’t think that you’re mistaken, for yes, you’re right, it’s him!

Teena Raffa-Mulligan

Bookworld by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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Bookworld

 

Tell me a tale of treasure untold,

buccaneers’ bounty, jewels and gold.

Spin me a yarn of a hazardous quest,

until it is ended the hero won’t rest.

 

Share stories of dragon, damsel and knight,

princesses rescued from a grave plight;

of monsters, aliens, mystery and magic,

adventurous, exciting, funny or tragic.

 

Whisk me to markets jostled by crowds.

Trek me up mountains shrouded in clouds.

Spin me through space at heart-stopping speed.

Chase me through tunnels –where do they lead?

 

Sail me across oceans so vast and deep,

I cannot help wonder what secrets they keep.

Lead me to forests where birds nest on high –

Wind through the trees is a whispering sigh.

 

Such silence and splendour fills me with awe,

inspires me to whisper, please show me more

of far distant places where I’ve not yet been.

Draw open the curtains upon the next scene.

 

As I travel abroad without leaving home,

I’m scientist, pirate, astronaut, gnome,

crook, cop or detective solving a crime,

anyone, anywhere, freefalling in time.

 

Thrill me, delight me, chill me, excite me,

amaze me, intrigue me, above all invite me

to enter a world where anything goes,

created for me in wonderful prose.

 

Words are my passport, ideas the key

To unlock my fancy and let it roam free.

I turn the first page to open the door

into magical Bookworld, its realms to explore.

Teena Raffa-Mulligan

* This poem appears in Charms, Volume Three, edited by Sally Odgers. Charms is a collection of stories, poems and illustrations by a range of contributors. It is also a fantasy novel in three volumes. For more information about this and other Prints Charming projects visit www.printscharmingbooks.com

Moving Marvel

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Moving Marvel

 

I can

Banana bend

Licorice twist

Jelly wibble wobble.

 

See me

Caterpillar creep

Snake slither

Deer dash and dart.

 

I am

Rock steady

Tree tall

River rush and flow.

 

Love this

Body mine

Body strong

This moving marvel.

Teena Raffa-Mulligan

* First published in School Magazine.

The Call of the Wind by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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The Call of the Wind

 

The wind whispered softly through grass and through gum.

She heard it call clearly, invitingly, “Come!”

Felt fingers of freshness caressing her face,

ruffling her fur with such gentle embrace.

The earth had a freshness that comes after rain

and she heard the wind calling, again and again:

“Come and run with me, seek freedom, take flight!”

Its call roused a longing to know such delight.

 

It whispered so softly, in murmur so low.

It beckoned her, “Come,” and she wanted to go.

To forage in green grass new-kissed by the rain,

to taste of its sweetness and know once again

how it feels to run freely with life unrestrained,

to run with the wind, by a fence uncontained.

She pricked up her ears, her body was tense.

Her heart filled with longing, she leaped at the fence.

 

The sweet taste of freedom was brief – incomplete –

for she soon heard the sound of hurrying feet.

Familiar voice calling, she paused in her flight,

heard gentle voice saying, “I know it’s not right.

But sorry, old girl, I can’t let you run free.

If you’re on the loose the ranger might see

And take you away. Then you’d no more know

even brief tastes of freedom – a walk every day.

It’s not much to offer, but home you must stay.”

 

 

Teena Raffa-Mulligan 

A Mouse in the House by Teena Raffa-Mulligan

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A mouse in the house

 

“There’s a mouse in our house,” said old Farmer Fife.

“Well, a cat will fix that,” said his good lady wife.

But the cat clawed and spat at the dog – how fur flew.

Fife yelled “Out!” What a shout, that house trembled, it’s true.

Next a trap it went snap but Mouse, she ran free.

Then a man in a van tried his luck for a fee.

Mouse hid ‘neath a lid till the danger was past.

Hunger gnawed – soon Fife snored – time Mouse broke her long fast.

Out she crept while they slept and feasted her fill

“It’s a pest not our guest!” Fife vowed, “Catch her I will.”

They tried brooms and loud booms, every potion and powder.

But Mouse she stayed, on she played, and her gnawing grew louder.

‘Twas not food but a brood in her round little tum.

They were born in the morn and the one had become

Nine, no less, and oh yes, Wife and Fife were distraught.

Those lodgers, smart dodgers just wouldn’t be caught.

In a trice those fine mice multiplied to three score

until Fife and his wife could not take any more.

Yes, they fled, out they sped, left their house to the mice

who skittered and tittered and sighed, “This is nice.”

 

© Teena Raffa-Mulligan