Category Archives: Poem of the Day
Australia – In Great Shape by Louise McCarthy
Leave a commentAustralia has a lovely shape; it truly does look great.
Compared to any other land; there’s simply no debate.
I’ve studied maps in atlases, seen globes that spin around,
But nowhere on this planet can a better shape be found.
From north to south, from east to west, the outcome is quite clear.
Australia’s shape is just the best – so I will stay right here.
By Louise McCarthy
Fish and Chips by Kylie Covark
Leave a commentChips was a seagull,
His best friend was Fish,
Together they made their own
Favourite dish.
A real set of villains,
Wired to steal,
Swooping and snatching
From humans mid-meal.
They could have been heroes,
This larcenous pair,
But there was a problem;
They just couldn’t share.
The other seagulls,
Tired of scraps,
Began making plans
For tricks and for traps.
They held all their meetings
In secretive places,
Aboard mighty ships
With stowaway spaces.
Then Livingstone Seagull
Came up with a scheme,
To rid their fair beach
Of that greedy gull team.
They planned a great party
On one of the ships;
The two guests of honour
Would be Fish and Chips.
They were to be named
Joint “Bird of the Year”,
And they boarded the ship
To a gushing gull cheer.
On each of their heads
Was placed a gold crown,
Pretty but heavy,
Those crowns weighed them down.
The pair smiled and waved,
As proud as could be,
The party went on
As the ship sailed to sea.
Some seagulls made speeches
Which seemed sort of long,
Then Livingstone stood
And sang them a song.
Well Fish and Chips
Were tired by now,
“We really must fly,”
They said with a bow.
The others agreed
And flocked to the sky,
Shouting “So long”
“Adios” and “Good bye”.
But poor Fish and Chips
Were weighed to the ground,
Their heads had been glued
As they had been crowned.
And try as they might
To get them unstuck,
Those crowns were on tight;
They had run out of luck.
And as they sat glumly
Each one had a wish,
Fish wanted chips,
And Chips wanted fish.
By Kylie Covark
Trim by Pat Simmons
Leave a commentTrim
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
I was born on the Reliance in 1799.
Of all my mother’s kittens
I was the one most fine.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
I have four snow-white paws
And a white star on my chest.
Of all the cats on board this ship
The sailors like me best.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
When it’s time for dinner
I don’t eat with other cats.
I sit at table with the men.
I don’t care for rats.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
I have a trusty friend
And Matthew Flinders is his name.
He has called me Trim.
I think together we’ll find fame.
I’m a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
Matthew is a clever man
He’s sailed all round this land.
He’s given it a name
And that’s Australia – how grand.
Perhaps you have a cat at home
Is it as fine as me?
Would it like to come aboard
And sail upon the sea?
With a black cat
A special cat
A ship’s cat.
Pat Simmons
A Leisurely Bike Ride by Louise McCarthy
Leave a commentA leisurely bike ride along the bush track,
Nothing too strenuous – 2ks then back.
Nothing competitive; dawdling along,
Enjoying the scenery and humming a song.
A leisurely bike ride – me on my own,
No need to hurry, 2ks then home.
4ks in total, pedalling with ease,
One cloud of pollen watch out I may sneeze.
The bell birds say “tink” as I ride through their patch.
Then past an echidna having a scratch.
Butterflies easily keep up the pace.
Dragonflies hover; their wings look like lace.
The ride is delightful – it’s time to turn back,
But just wait a minute – what’s that on the track?
A kangaroo lazily hopping ahead.
Is it a grey or is it a red? I’ll just go and see…
Faster and faster I quadruple my cadence
Just scraping through a gap in a farm fence.
The kangaroo is bounding in front at great speed,
But I am the one who will soon take the lead.
I crank up the gears and decrease my resistance.
By crouching down low, in less time more distance.
With speed and endurance I’ve almost succeeded,
In passing a grey kangaroo unpreceded.
The tail wind is strong; I am zooming along,
But all of a sudden something goes wrong.
The kangaroo disappears off the bush track,
Into the scrub and doesn’t hop back.
I skid to a halt – my heart is arrhythmic.
I cannot believe it – oh what a mean trick!
And as the dust settles, I stand all alone,
Except for a sign that says – “20ks home.”
Louise McCarthy
Fire! by Jill McDougall
1 CommentOld Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
were travelling south
where the icy winds blew.
As night came around,
they found some flat ground
in the shade of a cave
where the river gums grew.
“It’s freezing down here,”
grumbled Old Kangaroo.
“But I’ll make a good fire
to warm us right through.
I’ve never seen trees
As enormous as these,
I’m sure I can find us a big log or two.”
So into the bush
Hopped Old Kangaroo,
Straight to the place
Where the biggest trees grew.
He was back in a while
With a humungous pile,
“This is great,” said his mate, “cos I’m shivering too.”
Then Old Kangaroo and his mate Cockatoo
fetched small sticks and big sticks
and old sticks and new.
They even took leaves
from the bushes and trees.
“This will soon warm our bones,” laughed the triumphant two.
As the fire came alive,
the old fellows threw
more branches, more logs,
and a giant tree or two.
Way up on high
they could see the sparks fly.
“I’m feeling much warmer,” said Old Kangaroo.
Then down from the ranges,
a little breeze blew,
and it whistled and whined
through the trees as it grew.
Soon everywhere
in the hot smoky air,
sparks from the roaring fire floated and flew.
“Now I’m … ouch! … much too hot,
complained Old Kangaroo,
“Well my feathers are melting,”
cried poor Cockatoo.
And as a fresh breeze
carried sparks to the trees,
the two silly friends were beginning to stew.
“Bushfire!” At last cried one of the two,
“Everything’s burning!
What are we to do?”
But try as they might,
it was too late to fight,
for feathers and fur were burning up too.
Yes, feathers and fur were burning up too –
Nothing was saved
as the fire roared through.
All the birds and the bees,
all the bushes and trees,
all the creatures that lived there,
had perished there too.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Many years later, a young kangaroo,
was travelling south
with his mate Cockatoo.
They stopped at the scene
where the fire had been,
and decided to camp
where the river gums grew.
“I’m shaking with cold,”
said one of the two.
“Let’s have a fire
to warm us right through.
I’ll get some sticks,
and a few little bits.
We don’t need too much –
just a small fire will do.”
First published in Anna the Goanna, 2000
A Goat Afloat by Pat Simmons
Leave a commentA Goat Afloat
I wear a silver collar, I’m a rather special goat.
Hooves firmly planted on the ground, but once I was afloat.
‘A goat afloat?’ I hear you say.
It’s true. Ask Captain Cook.
Twice I’ve sailed around the world.
I’d like to write a book
Called
Memoirs of my life at sea
Jottings by a goat
The good the bad the ugly facts
Of life upon a boat.
Well, all right, ships,
Let’s get it right
Named
Dolphin and Endeavour
And with respect, I must say this,
I really hope I never set hoof again on either one.
Three years was long enough.
Giving milk for all that time quite frankly dears was tough.
Smelly sheep and smelly hens, smelly cattle too,
Smelly cats and smelly dogs
And very smelly crew.
Snow and storms and slippery decks, fresh grass in short supply.
No other goats for company to help the time pass by.
But now I’m home and quite well known
(My story’s in the press)
Enjoying my retirement, free from stormy seas and stress.
I wear a silver collar, I’m a rather special goat.
Hooves firmly planted on the ground, but once I was afloat.
Pat Simmons
Lying on the Beach by Monty Edwards
Leave a commentOne day I saw a bottle that was lying on the sand.
I asked: “Why are you lying?” Then I grabbed it with my hand.
The bottle made no answer and it gave a glassy stare:
It clearly felt it had a right to spend time lying there.
I saw a drip form on its lip and thought it was a tear,
Which seemed to say: “Just go away and leave me lying here.”
But I’d been taught that lying was a serious sort of sin,
So straight away, without delay, the liar went in the bin!
The Unhappy Astronaut by Monty Edwards
Leave a commentThe astronaut was angry. He was clearly not amused.
He spooned his soup from pot to bowl, but seemed a bit confused.
Though landing near the launch pad, he had fallen in a puddle!
This left his spacesuit shrunken and his maps an awful muddle.
Then, when he told the others who’d been in a different craft,
They thought his “trip” was quite a joke and all of them just laughed.