There was a young man from Crete,
Who walked on his hands not his feet,
What a fun affair
To have your knees in the air,
And shake toes with the people you meet.
There was a young man from Peru,
Who swallowed a mouthful of glue.
His lips were sealed,
His nose was congealed,
And his face turned a bright shade of blue.
Loony Limericks by James Aitchison
Image from Pexels
A row of Ficus
Line the drive
Evergreen
And air revive.
On a branch
Possums nest
Escaping from
Daylights quest.
Annoyingly
The leaves shed
Continuously
The drive, their bed.
Falling softly
When winds blow
Floating leaves
Put on a show.
A quiet whisper
Through the trees
As branches shuffle
In the breeze.
Lovely Ficus
Large and strong
Manicured
They’re now oblong.
As they look out
Upon the street
The trees observe
The passing feet.
They see the birds
That fly on by
Or those that perch
On branches high.
Lovely Ficus
Line the drive
Evergreen
Where they survive.
Lovely Ficus (Ficus hillii) by Toni Newell
Photo taken by Toni Newell
Though pirates get by
with a patch on one eye
their lives out at sea can be grim.
No wonder they’re mean,
all the pirates I’ve seen
have clearly been missing a limb.
I now understand
all those hooks for a hand,
the clumping around on a peg.
To fit out their ships
for those plundering trips
must cost them an arm and a leg!
Pirate plight by Jenny Erlanger
Image from Pixabay
candy coloured twists and twirls
little wicks charred and curled
melted wax holding fast
to memories of birthdays past
candles in a box by Graham Seal
Image from Pixabay
Gentle look giver
And of soft, knowing back pats
Loving, truth-teller.
Mumsie by Leigh van der Veen
Image from Pixabay
Whether we wills or
Whether we won’ts
Whether we dos or
Whether we don’ts
Whether we oughts or
Whether we on’ts
It all depends on choice
Whether we shalls or
Whether we shan’ts
Whether we cans or
Whether we can’ts
Whether we mights or
Whether we man’ts
It all depends on choice
Choice is rather marvelous gift
It offers a moment to make a shift
To think through or guess
To say no or yes
To do right or wrong
To be weak or strong
To be good or bad
To be calm or mad
Whether we wins or whether we loses
Depends in the end on how we chooses
Choices by Andrew Plant
Image from Pixabay
A mother’s love is like a freshly picked bouquet;
Full of life and colour, making everything okay.
A mother’s love is like the brightest shining star;
Lighting the way with warmth, even from afar.
A mother’s love is like the best pages from a book;
Guiding with truth and wisdom, as you take a fresh look.
A mother’s love is like a lioness watching her cubs play;
Defending and providing as you grow stronger every day.
A mother’s love is like a moon beam full of gentle light;
As her prayers of protection keep you safe at night.
A mother’s love is celebrated on a special Sunday each year.
Spend some time with Mum in May to show her that you care.
A Mother’s Love by Linda Davidson
Image from Pixabay
Ahoy there, school of fish,
who may you be?
“We are not fish, we are children.
We don’t belong in the sea.”
Then how are you swimming beside me
as if you are under the water?
“We aren’t swimming, we’re walking.
We’re dry while you’re getting wetter.”
Walking you say. I heard that a fish
tried something like that,
before my time.
“Yes, we learnt that at school.
Our teacher said
fish became mammals
on leaving the sea behind.”
That means we’re related
and you’re just like me!
“Yes, Mr Whale, we are just like you
because we all came from the sea.”
Mr Whale Says Hello by Bill Mallard
Artwork: AQUARIUM by Kaushani Mufti
“I like the heat,
freezing nights too,
clear cloudless skies
with stars blinking through.
Grant me a wilderness
so desolate and dry,
that echoes in its silence
for every passer-by.
“I’m not a fussy eater
but know just where to look.
I can eat the plants
which make others really crook!
My soft lips of velvet
take thistle, thorn or prickle.
I’ll nibble away without delay;
their spikes barely tickle.
“For those who do believe
my hump’s a jerrycan,
I would like to share with you
why that is not the plan.
It’s how I store some fat
to use when times are tough,
for energy and water
and if that’s not enough,
I recycle vapour
back along my nose;
a clever way to sort
and solve my water woes.
“My long and steady legs
cut distance every stride;
padded feet for trekking
won’t split, sink or slide.
No matter the terrain
hills, rocks or sand,
we can journey onward
across the desert land.
“These eyes have luscious lashes,
and my face shows a grin.
I can shut my nostrils
to stop sand from getting in!
Strong, tough and hardy;
they say we are all three.
We’re made for desert life
as I was meant to be.
“Now in modern times
trekking ‘s still the same.
I’m here among my Caravan
and Carmel is my name.
Relax to the rhythm
of rock, roll and sway,
all in line with my friends
and we are on our way.”
CLEVER CARMEL BY EDWINA SMITH
Image from Pixabay
Why do kangaroos cross the road?
To get to the other side!
But ’roos don’t know their highway code
and some of them have died.
When travelling through Aussie bush,
best keep your eyes peeled wide.
Watch for signs and please don’t rush –
especially ’round dawn and dusk –
as that’s the time when ’roos might hide
along a lonely roadside.
Roo Road Rules by Celia Berrell
Artwork: THONGS CROCS AND FLIPFLOPS by Ella Rousseau
