Our Council gives us three bins,

Each has a special calling,

The red top is for general waste,

And the yellow for recycling.

And then we have the green bin,

That recycles plants and trees,

Egg shells and food scraps,

Organic waste and leaves.

The green bin is my favourite,

Because it’s nature’s gold,

Mulched and used as compost,

Its benefits unfold.

In the fortnight that it’s waiting,

For collection to take place,

In warmer months the process starts,

At a faster pace.

Lift the lid and feel and smell,

The heat as it meets the air,

And you will know that your green waste,

Won’t be going to waste elsewhere.

 

 

It started out as a seed,

And slowly put down roots.

Then struggled to reach the top,

By sending up a shoot.

It pushed its head above the ground,

And then it grew more leaves,

Produced a lot of flowers,

Which attracted many bees.

It grew to become a plant,

Bearing fruit which housed the seeds,

And thus, the cycle continues,

But what precedes?

Did the seed come before the plant?

Or the plant before the seed?

It’s a question that’s been asked before,

And will be asked again, indeed.

 

 

Exhilarating Spring

 

Daffodils and jonquils,

Herald in the Spring,

Wattle trees in flower,

Fruit trees blossoming.

 

Birds begin to build their nests,

Weather’s getting warmer,

The farmer sows his seeds,

And the days slowly get longer.

 

Dormant plants begin to grow,

Snakes, come out of hibernation,

The winter blues are shaken off,

It’s pure exhilaration.

Farmyard Election

At John Jackson’s farmyard,

There was a meeting held,

And all the animals were there,

To vote, as compelled.

They were voting for a leader,

And amongst themselves would choose,

Each could address the meeting,

And from that they’d win or lose.

The cow was the first to stand,

And gave out a loud ‘moo’,

He told them he was big and strong,

And very responsible too.

The pig got up to ‘oink’ a word,

And said it wasn’t true,

He was just as strong as the cow,

And cleverer too.

The chickens, geese and ducks arose,

To give their point of view,

But ‘squawked’ and ‘quacked’ amongst themselves,

Offering nothing new.

The horses and donkey stood together,

‘Heehawed’ and ‘neighed’ in chorus,

But were so loud they couldn’t be heard,

They were just a little too boisterous.

The sheep stood up and followed the goat,

Who  ‘bleated’ clear out loud,

But the sheep just  ‘baaed’ and ‘baaed’ and ‘baaed’,

Which didn’t please the crowd.

The rabbit hopped up to the stand,

Followed by the Border Collie,

But decided better to hop down,

For to remain would be a folly.

The Border ‘barked’ he was the smartest,

He could round up sheep and cows,

Chickens, geese and ducks, and more,

Even boars and sows.

All the animals parted,

To consider and cast their vote,

The ballot was counted with the result,

The Border Collie beat the goat!

Evolving Books

 

When I was very young,

My mother read to me,

And I met ‘Winnie-the-Pooh’,

And young ‘Heidi’,

Then there was ‘Charlotte’,

And ‘Koala Lou’,

‘Thomas the Tank Engine’,

And the ‘Gruffalo’.

When I was a little older,

And had learned how to read,

I met Enid Blyton,

Her ‘Famous Five’, I believe,

And later it was science,

And then literature galore,

Biology and math equations,

History, art, and even more.

And later in my life,

When the decision was mine,

I embraced murder mysteries,

Biographies and crime.

There is so much to choose from,

And so very much to learn,

But with technical evolution,

Let’s pray our books don’t burn.

Cat on a Post

 

“What is that?” The young Alpaca asked

Looking at a creature on the post,

And the others just stared in amazement,

Not wanting to get very close.

“I don’t know” the mother answered,

Whilst stretching her neck out longer,

All ears were pricked and eyes just stared,

At this creature, whose stare was stronger.

“I’m a cat chasing a mouse” ,  it said

“When through this fence it scurried,

And I was unable to follow it,

No matter how much I hurried.

The mouse disappeared into the grass,

And up this post I ran,

Looking far across this field,

At least that was my plan.

And then you interrupted me,

By standing in my way,

Asking each other silly questions,

Whilst I lost sight of my prey”.

The Alpacas’ were stunned at this outburst,

And there was nothing left to do,

But turn around and wander off,

Leaving the cat to stew.

 

The Lion King

 

A lion

Is known to be tough,

But cheated by family,

Is certainly rough.

The rough and the tough,

Come together to be,

Simba, the lion cub,

In this touching story.

 

The loss of his father,

Is devastating,

And the guilt served by Scar

Convinces him,

To leave The Pride Lands,

And a new life begin.

He meets new friends,

Along the way,

Who come under threat,

On this particular day.

Nala, his past love,

Has them in her sight,

But Simba intercepts,

And saves their plight.

In love again, from her he hears,

What Scar has done,

And they decide to return,

To where it had all begun.

 

 

He challenges Scar,

With the support of his friends,

In an effort to reclaim Pride Lands,

But Scar does not give in easily,

With the Hyenas he takes his stand.

They fight a battle and Simba wins,

When Scar begs for his life,

And offers to betray the Hyenas,

Who are now in strife.

Simba agrees on the condition that,

Scar leaves Pride Lands forever,

But Scar has one last thrust at him,

Which ends up not being clever.

He survives the fall and stands to meet,

The Hyenas who overheard all,

And Scar thus meets his maker,

Leaving Pride Lands once and for all.

Simba and Nala now return,

Accompanied by their friends,

And reclaim the reign of the kingdom,

Where this story almost ends.

But the real end to this story,

Which makes it more the merry,

Is Simba and Nala sharing their news,

Showing their new cub to the assembly.

Hidden Vegetables

Johnny,

Doesn’t like his greens,

He hates to eat,

Zucchini and beans,

He will not eat,

Brussel sprouts,

Asparagus,

Or sauerkraut.

He doesn’t like,

To eat peas,

Or anything,

That look like trees.

Lettuce and kale,

He will not eat,

And spinach, Bok Choy.

Or silver beet.

His mother,

Almost pulls out hair,

In frustration,

And in despair.

She tries to hide them,

In her cooking,

Soup and lasagne,

When he’s not looking.

The Band

I can hear the band playing,

The sound is very loud,

The drummer hits the cymbal,

And delights the watching crowd.

Sax and cello come in on que,

The drummer beats his drums,

Followed by the trumpet,

They are having lots of fun.

I wish I could play an instrument,

One of any kind,

For music means so much to me,

And I think to all mankind.