Author Archives: australianchildrenspoetry

Hello Dear Goose by Rose Roberts

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Hello dear Goose

Hello dear Goose, it’s time for tea

So please come over and sit with me

I have some cakes and a sticky bun

I think that we shall have some fun

Buster goat has brought some bread

And although he carried it on his head

With strawberry jam and Vegemite

I’m sure that it will taste alright

Thank you Duck, it does look sweet

I’m glad he didn’t use his feet!

 

Oh look dear Goose, the Man in the Moon

Do you think that we can go there soon?

Of course Duck dear, we both shall fly

Out of the night, into the sky

Just close your eyes and rest your head

And tuck your feet up in the bed

For when you dream the moon you’ll see

And the Man within shall give you tea!

 

Oh look dear Goose, it is the sun

Is he smiling down on everyone?

Or is his radiance just for me

For I am a good little duck you see?

Of course Duck dear, he shines for you

And all the other creatures too

He gives us light and makes us warm

And dries us out after a storm

Oh dear Goose, how very clever

I hope the sun shall shine forever!

 

Rose Roberts

 

  • Rose has written, illustrated and self published two books for children,  The Adventures of Duck and Goose and Another Adventure for Duck and Goose.  ‘Each ended with a little poem,’ said Rose.  ‘I have continued to write little poems about them.  Duck, Goose and others live with me on a little farm in Verona on the far south coast of NSW.’

 

Mud by Bridh Hancock

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Mud

 

The sea gulls are in from the beaches,

Wheeling above the roof tops —

(Kiirr, kiirr, skreeik!

Such lovely voices they have) — or

On the grass in the park,

Like a flock of well-behaved cockies;

A brightly white grazing bird mass.

 

The gulls are in from the beaches.

Soon we’ll have some proper inclement weather;

Skies of storm-cloud, wind and rain howling, and

Perhaps if we are good,

LIGHTNING!

Enjoyable, memorable, coming with thunder,

Blustering unchallenged to skies east in elsewhere.

 

Soon it will be back to ordinary,

Water retreating to safety ‘neath lush green grass,

Or spread all wet and puddly on asphalt.

(What a way to go!)

Weather must be really bad to be really good.

I hate cold wet miserable gray glum old days to gloom, and

I hate mud, but

Squiddily, iddily, uddily, squd

Sometimes there are no times like those spent in mud,

But you need a steam-cleaning to be human again,

And a steam-cleaning’s fun;

So bring on the rain!

Bridh Hancock

Mal Kennington Malone by Katherine Gallagher

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Mal Kennington Malone

 

Mal Kennington Malone

wasn’t good at games.

His classmates always laughed

and called him names:

 

dumb-chum, drophead,

you silly billy shark –

biggest flapfingers

in Bladestone Park.

 

I think I’ll try running –

I know I’m not bad.

I could really show ’em,

he told his Dad.

 

He trained and trained

around an old dirt track;

he trained every day,

ran to school and back.

 

He trained and trained

and ran like a hare,

even trained when it rained,

racing everywhere.

 

When sportsday came,

he was first off the mark,

became the fastest winner

in Bladestone Park.

 

© Katherine Gallagher

School Rules by Kate O’Neil

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School Rules

 

Books and pens and scratching chalk

Gotta think but you’d better not talk

Stop that running. Can’t you walk?

You must obey the rules.

 

Rewrite this page – and keep it neat.

Please don’t fidget with your feet.

Please sit properly on your seat.

Don’t you know the rules?

 

Perhaps you did not hear me mention

that you have to pay attention?

If you don’t you’ll score detention

writing out the rules.

 

Writing rules? I’d like that gig.

Creative writing’s what I dig.

Woo hoo! Stand back for something big

when I write the rules.

Kate O’Neil

Flea by Karen Hendriks

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Flea

 

Jumping, biting, annoying,

Sneaky little flea.

Scritch, scratch, scritch,

I have a terrible itch.

 

How do I ditch this itch?

A flea on board,

Becomes a terrible game.

Flea twister is no fun,

Trying to find the little biter.

 

Take off your clothes,

And jump into the sea,

Swim, dive, and float,

Surf a few waves.

 

No more itch,

Wash those clothes,

Peace at last,

No more sneaky little flea.

 

Karen Hendriks

The Class Photo by Jenny Erlanger

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The class photo

The photo man’s getting quite hot in the face,

he really is looking a mess.

He’s spent a whole hour trying to get us in place

but he hasn’t had any success.

 

Annabelle’s tripped over Christopher’s chair

and Bethany’s started to bleat

’Cause Ben spat his chewing gum into her hair

after stomping on both of her feet.

 

Emma keeps poking her tongue out at Rose,

Alison’s taking a nap.

The girls in the front are adjusting their bows

and won’t keep their hands in their lap.

 

Tom’s spilled the drink he’s been secretly slurping

all over the back of my neck

and someone above me keeps farting and burping.

The photo man’s looking a wreck!

 

He’s glaring at me and I wish I could hide,

he’s just about out of his mind.

But it’s hard to keep both of my hands by my side

when I’m poked in the ribs from behind.

 

We’ve finally stopped all the wriggles and squeals

but I’m not sure the photo’s still on

’cause the photo man’s suddenly turned on his heels

And he’s packed up the camera and gone.

Jenny Erlanger

The New Ssstudent by Jessica Nelson

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The New Ssstudent

 

Slithering, whispering

A snake came to class

Brightly glittering

Its scales like glass

 

Short, thick body

Banded with grey

Wiggling lure tail

Tempting for prey.

 

Terrible, horrible

It gave us a turn

But Mrs MacWinkle

Said, ‘It may wish to learn.’

 

Snake failed English

Again and again;

Snakes are not built

For holding a pen.

 

Snake could not learn

To decipher a map,

Of history and science

It knew not a scrap.

 

But to our surprise

That snake was able

To complete with a snap

The seven times table.

 

At sums and fractions

It couldn’t be greater:

Its mind was just like

The best calculator.

 

When we realised the truth

We could hardly be gladder:

Mathematics comes easy

When you are an adder.

Jessica Nelson

 

 

 

 

A Letter From the Principal by Pat Simmons

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A Letter from the Principal

Dear Mr. Smith and Mrs. Smith,

I’m writing you this letter

because your son’s behaviour

isn’t getting any better.

 

His writing is untidy and

his spelling is a worry.

He’s often late and consequently,

always in a hurry.

 

His recent science project

nearly caused a school disaster.

The explosion covered twenty boys

in clouds of ceiling plaster.

 

He’s been with us for twenty years,

or is it twenty two?

Dear Mr. Smith and Mrs. Smith,

just what are we to do?

 

He’s untidy and he’s silly

and he always acts the fool,

but still the students say he’s

the best teacher in our school.

Pat Simmons