A Small Step to Normality
It’s nice to see the children,
Playing in the park again,
Barriers and tape removed,
With groups of up to ten.
It’s nice to hear their laughter,
See them swinging on a swing,
Or sliding down a slide,
Only to climb back up again.
There’s a perception of normality,
Although it’s only a small part,
And watching on gives us hope,
That were’re making a good start.
Autumn Tapestry
Colours infiltrate me,
Infuse into my mind,
Riding on an autumn leaf,
Leaving earth behind.
I see a tapestry of leaves,
Scattered far below,
Red and ochre intertwined,
Putting on a show.
Uplifted by the current,
I drift into the sky,
On a wave of breeze,
Floating way up high.
Suddenly I’m falling,
Then up again I go,
No sooner have I risen up,
I’m in a downward throw.
Finally, I land,
Amidst the other leaves,
And I find myself again,
Part of the tapestry.
Autumn Leaves
Autumns natural carpet,
Made of falling leaves,
Bold and bright colours,
A tapestry it weaves.
Trees feel lighter,
Branches open to the sun,
Absorbing its energy,
As sun’s rays rest upon.
Winter fast approaching,
Bear branches await,
The cold and the comfort,
When they can hibernate.
Artistic Creation
A box of coloured pencils,
Or watercolour paint,
Place together with a child,
There’ll be no complaint.
May get a little messy,
When creating at a table,
But art will be produced,
As much as they are as able.
Little need for guidance,
As imaginations flow,
Paint or pencil are applied,
And then there is the show.
A sharing of the art created,
By young and loving hands,
A glimpse into the future,
Of potential artists stands.
My Mum
My mum is the best,
She cooks my favourite meals,
She gives me lots of hugs,
For her I’d do cartwheels.
She does all my washing,
And all my ironing too,
Drives me to footy training,
There’s little I need to do.
She often takes me shopping,
For cloths and shoes and stuff,
I’ve never heard her complain,
Even when things get tough.
She’s a very special person,
Unselfish, loving and kind,
I’m so lucky she’s my mum,
I love her with all my heart and mind.
I want to be a dog,
I don’t want to be a cat,
A rabbit or a hog.
I want to live at my house,
With parents just like me,
Where I’ll be fed and pampered,
And looked after to the tee.
Naturally Artistic
Kids are naturally artistic,
In so many different ways,
Free from self-judgement,
Not restricted in anyway.
Their mind’s an open palette,
With fearless application,
Producing works of art,
With gusto, not frustration.
There are no expectations,
Just imaginations wild,
Creating an extension,
Of what they feel inside.
Anzac Day
In two thousand and twenty,
We will celebrate,
Anzac Day a different way,
And we can all participate.
We won’t be going to the shrineBut, in the morning at 5.55,
We’ll observe a minute’s silence,
At the very end of our drive.
We can all stand as a nation,
Honour those who fought the war,
Whilst fighting our own battle,
Against this virus so obscure.
My Hero
My hero is a gentleman.
Named Jimmy Arkell,
Who recently turned 98,
Has many a story to tell.
He was a country boy to start,
And moved into the city,
Where he gave away his heart,
To a girl who was so pretty.
He has survived two wars,
Widowed and lives alone,
Around the corner from a school,
From his very home.
He walks past nearly every day,
The kids all know his name,
They say, “Hello Jimmy”,
And he greets them just the same.
He’s truly an inspiration,
And he still drives his car,
He is vibrant and full of life,
He is a shining star.
Should I ever reach that age,
I wish that I could be,
Half the person that he is,
It’s what I wish for me.
Rescue Dogs
On the radio,
I heard the news today,
There was a rush on dogs,
I pray they have good homes,
With love and stimulation,
Assisting their new owners,
To cope with isolation.
Shelters almost empty,
Which is wonderful I know,
But when this crisis ends,
Will it still be so?
There’s a question I ponder,
“Which is really true?”
Between the two of them,
“Who’s actually rescuing who?”.
Australian Children’s Poetry 