Doh ray me fah,
I’m going to be a music star!
Plinkety-plunk, plunkety-plink,
sounds pretty good, don’t you think?
Next, I’ll learn the violin;
I’ll tuck it underneath my chin.
I’ll slide the bow across the strings
and play all kinds of funny things.
Squeaky-squawk, squawky-squeak,
eeky-awky-awky-eek.
I can hear them clap for more
when they hear my music soar!
Herberton Historic Village, North Queensland. Photo by Ginette Pestana.
Train leaving,
Train leaving platform nine,
Leaving platform nine in five minutes,
I repeat, train leaving shortly.
Train leaving, tickets ready,
Tickets ready, have your tickets ready,
Have your tickets ready,
Get your tickets, tickets selling fast,
Get your tickets,
Roll up, roll up, and get your tickets
Roll up, roll up…
The circus is in town,
The circus is in town, forget about the train,
The circus is in town, the train’s left anyway,
Next train, will be leaving from platform three,
Next train, leaving in five minutes,
It’s your choice, the circus is in town
It’s your choice, support the clowns
It’s your choice, there will be other trains.
Image from Pixabay
You’ll only find them here,
in the northern Kimberley —
whole colonies of palms
growing majestically.
Some reach thirty metres,
they seem to touch the sky,
bearing flowers and fruit
where the monsoons pass them by.
Livistona palms, native to the Kimberley in northern Western Australia. Photo by poet.
Please Note: Captain R Jaken’s “jackspeak” (slang) and vanity means he pronounces Kraken like his name Cray-ken.
Let thar be no mistakin’
Said Captain R Jaken
Don’t ever, noooooo never awaken the Kraken
If youse awaken the Kraken
Said Captain R JaKen
Knoooows this for sure, I’m not foolin nor fakin
The seas will start bubblin-n- squubblin-n-shakin
Jack tars-n-mermaids will be quiverin-n-quakin
Islands-n-light’ouse will be battered til breakin
Many-a ship for meals will be taken
All plans to go swimmin will needs be forsaken
Ain’t no myth I’m makin’
Said Captain R Jaken
Don’t ever, noooooo never awaken the Kraken
Image from Pixabay
Here it stands
in the Flinders Ranges,
in arid soil,
scarred by changes.
Still it stands,
hollow yet growing,
spreading shade,
no sign of slowing.
Loved by all
who come to see
Australia’s spirit
in one tree.
This iconic gum became famous in 1941 when photographed by Harold Cazneaux. This photo by Ginette Pestana in 2024.
How many tunes do we know
and how many songs can we sing?
Hearing those high notes and low
is making my heartstrings ring.
Our crickets sing faster or slow
with temperature ruling their timing.
Rubbing their wings like a bow
on some scratchy violin.
How many tunes do they know
and how many songs can they sing?
Their music will only flow
if it’s warm, beginning in spring.
Who are they chirruping to?
It’s strictly a lady’s thing.
Our cricket choir sings to woo
their girls with their carolling.
Artwork: Mr Charles Chirrup the Cricket and his Choir by Cindy Wider
I find it disconcerting
alarming and alerting
the unashamed asserting of their glee.
It is true they sound impressive
if not manic and aggressive
then undoubtedly excessive definitely.
Their reaction is confusing
as I’m not at all amusing
it’s my ego they are bruising carelessly.
Don’t they know it’s impolite
taking unabashed delight
cracking up at all in sight hysterically.
With their cacophonic chorus
piercing skin that’s thin and porous
you would think that they abhor us certainly.
But apparently this bird
whose refrain is so absurd
was created to confer a word of warning.
To the spirits who reply
to the Kookaburra’s cry
lighting up the inky sky at dawn each morning.
A Note for Poets: is it time for your submission to Jackie Hosking’s Spring Competition (deadline 30th November)
Image from Pixabay
Oysters, oysters,
fresh from the bay,
their shells are shining
in the sun today.
They’ve been growing
for one whole year;
the time to eat them
is almost here.
Oysters taste slimy,
some people say.
But I think they’re great,
any old day!
Teacher’s note: It takes a year for an oyster to grow before it’s ready to eat. People either love them or hate them. How many students in your class like oysters — and why? How many know where they come from? In the photo, the yellow “fingers” are visible — that means the shell has further to grow.
Inspecting oysters at Mooney Mooney, Hawkesbury River. Photo by Ginette Pestana
Captain R Jaken owned a ship
Named the Spick-n-Speck
Cleaner than clean he would tell one and all
“Argh you can eat lunch of t’ deck’
And that’s exactly what they did
The Captain and the crew
Ate all their meals off the deck
Which meant – no washing up to do.
Captain R Jaken often said
“Argh clean ship sails t’ quickest”
So come storm or calm he always made sure
His was the speck and spickest
Thus every day the crew would clean
The ship from top to tail
Dust, polish, vacuum, mop
And even iron the sails.
Captain R Jaken had a first-mate
The crew all called him Splosh
Who day after day and week after week
Simply refused to wash
After a while Splosh really stank
So the Captain shouted an order
“Take him and make him walk the plank
Into a barrel of hot soapy water!!”
Captain R Jaken recalls with a shiver
The terrible day of Tyrone
Storming through harbour and on to the ship
With the whirl and the swirl of cylcone
Dashing and splashing, tipping and flipping
Dumping seaweed, sand and bog
The crew mopped and swabbed but no matter what
They could not control this dog.
Captain R Jaken loved how sun
Made Spick–n-Speck shine-n-shimmer
And more than the gold and jewels of his dreams
How the moon made it glisten-n-glimmer
This sparkle-n-glow had so won his heart
Spick-n-Speck never left dock
And to ensure the ship would stay clean
It was moored with big a chain-n-lock.
Image from Pixabay
Moon, I know
you’re rather fickle –
not long ago
you were thin as a sickle
but look at you now –
It’s night’s high noon
and you’re fat and full
as a blown balloon.
Moon, your face
is made of light
and you hang like hope
against the night,
waxing, waning,
sometimes gone,
always changing,
moving on.
Image from Pixabay
