Iggy
An impressive, aggressive iguana
while eating his breakfast banana
slipped on the skin
went into a spin
and ended up flying to Ghana.
Pat Simmons
Category Archives: Australian children’s poetry
Tanka by Katherine Gallagher
Leave a commentTanka
Last night, the full moon
hung like a papery lamp
over my quiet road.
I savoured the chilly sky –
the moon tagging my shadow.
Katherine Gallagher
First published in The Unidentified Flying Omelette, ed. Andrew Fusek Peters, Hodder & Stoughton
Fear by Vanda Lockyer
Leave a commentFear
Night skies flash
Windows groan
Parents clash
Dinosaurs roam
Shadows hover
Bear held tight
Under the covers
A fearful night
Vanda Lockyer
Too Late for Chocolate? by Celia Berrell
Leave a commentToo Late for Chocolate?
It’s best to say YES to sensible food.
Eat all our veggies
with meat well chewed.
It’s best to say YES to exercise.
It helps keep us fit
and also wise.
It’s best to say YES to a good night’s sleep.
With eight to ten hours
of dreaming deep.
BUT
It’s hard to say NO to late TV shows
with popcorn or ice-cream
or marshmallows.
SO …
You wouldn’t say YES, if handed a plate
of yummy baked cakes
or some sweet chocolate …
would you?
Celia Berrell
Celia said: When we’re tired, we are more likely to give in to temptations. Well that’s my excuse. What’s yours?
Self-controlled people have better lives – but for the rest, lack of willpower is more like physical fatigue than moral failure, says Roy F. Baumeister, professor of social psychology at Florida State University.
A Plea for Green by Jaz Stutley
Leave a commentA Plea for Green
Green are the hills for children:
a sunlit place of grasses,
dandelions and daisies;
as green as an apple, a fig,
an unripe fruit; the green
of memory and melody,
the scrubby bushy slopes
for exploration; tall trees
to climb, parks to run through.
Screens are not green
or sunlit; the blue wild
winds do not blow there –
a static buzz bends
the mind in dark rooms.
This is my plea for green.
Jaz Stutley
Dinner Time Rhyme by Monty Edwards
Leave a commentDinner Time Rhyme
Did you hear how little Miss Muffet
Sat down to eat some food on a tuffet?
Her curds and whey were soft and wet
(These curds and whey are what you get
When using milk for making cheese,
So do not look for them on trees).
If you went out tonight to eat
Instead you’d likely have a seat
And choose a favourite food or two
And wait till it was served to you,
Or from the buffet eat your fill,
But not so much it made you ill.
Now should Miss Muffet too turn up
With curds and whey in bowl or cup
And say: “This buffet’s not for me,
Try this, it’s better, you’ll agree.”
Here’s what I suggest you say:
“Let’s go and get some takeaway.”
Monty Edwards
Monty says: “A buffet dinner celebration with family a few months back came to mind with the prompt. This got me thinking about how confusing a child might find the pronunciation of “buffet”, having been exposed at some point to little Miss Muffet, let alone what she ate, so I decided to explore both in this simple poem.”
Retractable Teeth by Kesta Fleming
Leave a commentRetractable Teeth
Imagine, my friend…if you please, if you will…
That teeth were attached to your gums with great skill
By elastic – retractable, spit-proof and strong –
So that when they were wobbly, they’d not wobble long…
That the mean, ancient aunt who with glee and guffaw
Recommends that you tie your poor tooth to the door
With some cotton, then slams that old door with a bang!
Would faint dead away as your tooth, with a twang,
Zoomed back to your mouth in its boomerang way
Ready to chomp, munch and gobble all day.
Imagine, my friend… if you will, if you please…
That your teeth could extend down as far as your knees.
You could sit at the table with very straight back
Crunching secret supplies that were down in your lap.
And your mum, for whom manners at table are utmost,
Has cooked, let’s imagine, a nice, healthy nut-roast,
With no earthly clue that her child, yes, that’s you…
Is secretly eating the worst kind of goo.
The sugar, the colour, the taste, oh so yummy!
Is chomped in your lap, then transferred to your tummy.
Imagine, my friend… if you please, one last time…
That your teeth – so retractable, yes, so sublime –
Were immune, nay impervious, to plaque and to grot
And were teeth, everlasting, that just couldn’t rot,
So that if you ate junk, and let’s face it, you would,
Your teeth would stay healthy; your breath would stay good.
And your dentist, with beam fit to light up her clinic
Would trumpet your praise: ‘The example to mimic!’
Wouldn’t you grin at your photo beneath
Her new dentistry ad for Retractable Teeth?
