A queue of curious pelicans
A cue of queueious pelicans
The English language
Never ceases
To amaze
And amuse
Mother counted sixty four
swans and pelicans
on Lake Colac once
when I was a child
in the days
when the lake
was full
before
climate
change
hit.
Saffron and rose madder
sea-sheet reflects
in symmetry the sky
On this burnished brightness
waves encroach
Leaden opaque they flow
zinc white against
the watercolour’s glow
A vision or a concept
beckons bright
But words
which seemed so clear and pure
across it spread
do nothing but obscure
On an African Train
Far from Australia
I have suddenly discovered
Something glorious and homely
Symbolic and ordinary
Through a train window
In Zambia
To remind me of home
But as well I have found
People who are fascinated
When I point it out
Europeans for whom it is
A thing of romance
Read about, dreamed of
And never seen before
And they are gripped
By my stories
Of sharp cold clear nights
In the Wimmera
Or the dimmer glimpses
From the front yard at home
Where even the bright pall
Of city electricity
Cannot hide its design
The Southern Cross
And friends to share it with
THE FARMYARD
The Farmer in the Dell
The farmer in the dell
Hi-ho, the derry-o
The farmer in the dell
The farmer births a child
The farmer births a child
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer births a child
The child gets a cat
The child gets a cat
Hi-ho the derry-o…
The child gets a cat
The farmer milks the goats
The farmer milks the goats
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer milks the goats
The child feeds the goats
The child feeds the goats
Hi-ho, the derry-o
The child feeds the goats
The cat drinks the milk
The cat drinks the milk
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The cat drinks the milk
The farmer plants the seed
The farmer plants the seed
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer plants the seed
The child picks the peas
The child picks the peas
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The child picks the peas
The farmer cooks the peas
The farmer cooks the peas
Hi-ho, the derry-o…
The farmer cooks the peas
The farmer and her child
The farmer and her child
Hi-ho the derry-oh
The farmer and her child
©Virginia Lowe
Tasty fruit rainbow
Raspbemato
Carronge
Pearanana
Grapple
Fejoa smells perfumey in its blue-green skin
Aubluegineberry
Red
Orange
Yellow
Green
Blue
Indigo
Violet? Not one
Sample a fruit
Vegetables aren’t some?
Aubergine is egg plant
resembles an egg only in shape
coloured indigo like blueberries
Tomato perhaps is
But all grow as fruit
Demetrius to Elizabeth
The donkeys of Hydra
are sure-footed, reliable
taking goods from the harbour
up steep cliffs to town
Kangaroos in Australia
will not carry loads
their convenient pockets
hold nothing but babies
These unlikely animals
at unbeatable speed
leap yards at a bound
but only on flats
Without animals to harness
or bear our loads
how can we farm?
We’ll get rich with children!
We’ll get rich with gold!
Virginia Lowe
April Fool
I’m looking for Spring
as so many do
for blossom and bulbs
shy violets hold dew
What greets me is change
Winds, rain and shine
It’s now Autumn here
but there’s no call to pine
There are strawberry guavas,
feijoas and pears
very few flowers
but no one much cares
We’d rather our garden
is brimming with fruit
There’ll be time in October
For Flora’s fair loot!
April Fool
I’m looking for Spring
as so many do
for blossom and bulbs
shy violets hold dew
What greets me is change
Winds, rain and shine
It’s now Autumn here
but there’s no call to pine
There are strawberry guavas,
feijoas and pears
very few flowers
but no one much cares
We’d rather our garden
is brimming with fruit
There’ll be time in September
For Flora’s fair loot
Teacher Notes for Spring:
Watch this famous poem written by William Wordsworth as a class.
For William Wordsworth, poetry was “the spontaneous overflow of emotion reflected in tranquility.” In this poem, the aim is for the speaker to experience a connection with nature.
Look at the key words in this poem then go outside for a walk in nature with the students.
See if they then can write a poem that connects people with the natural world.
From the blue spring sky
hard hail and soft pink petals
falling together
Spring morning –
overnight the wind has picked
the last camellia
