Category Archives: Poem of the Day

Butcher Bob by Allan Cropper

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BUTCHER BOB

Butcher Bob from Iron Knob was known throughout the land

for cooking food that tasted good, with produce fresh at hand

Now, Bob he strove to get his stove to turn out something new

He’d not prepare the common fare the common townsfolk knew

 

From out the back was heard a quack, a gobble and some clucking

a chop or three, then glory be, a mess of feather plucking

It seemed absurd, he stuffed each bird into its larger cousin

and finally, he sang with glee as he shoved it in the oven.

 

With carving knife, he and his wife had settled down to tuck in

to Sunday treat, this three-way meat, he invented roast turducken

‘Next week, my dear, my next idea…the roast I will be making…

roast beef, pig too, and kangaroo…my kanga-beefy-bacon.’

© Allan Cropper

Yesterday by Robyn Youl

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 I am 72 today,

Yesterday

In Grade Two

The Hobyahs came to stay.

They came through the gloomy gullies

Creep, creep, creeping.

They came through the grey gum-trees

Run, run, running.

They came into my dreams

Skip, skip, skipping.

The Little Old Man

Cut off Little Dog Dingo’s tail

And Little Dog Dingo’s legs

And Little Dog Dingo’s head

To stop Little Dog Dingo barking.

To frighten the Hobyahs away

The Little Old Man

Hid under the bed

When the Hobyahs took

The Little Old Woman away.

The Little Old Man

Was very sorry.

He took Dingo’s tail and his legs and his head

And gave them back to Little Dog Dingo.

Little Dog Dingo saved the Little Old Woman

Little Dog Dingo ate up every one of the Hobyah’s

I am not so sure

There are no Hobyahs now

Even now

Now I am 72.

See for yourself.

Today.

To Bee or Not? by Celia Berrell

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To Bee or not?

Is it a bee without a buzz?

It could be a bee with all that fuzz.

But then its wings stick-out too far

and all six legs have got no hair.

 

You want to know the reason why?

Because it is a bee-sized fly!

 

They seem to wear their bee-costumes

and pollinate the same bee-blooms.

Their females are a bee’s worst pest

and lay their eggs in real-bee nests.

 

To be a bee-fly small or large

it helps to be bee-camouflaged.

Celia Berrell

Celia said: This poem isn’t about bees.  Honest!

http://bie.ala.org.au/species/urn:lsid:biodiversity.org.au:afd.taxon:5c4d1b74-df10-4cda-9bfc-220490890500

Bombyliidae (Bee Flies)
Bee flies are large, fat, and hairy, often with a long, rigid proboscis. They are excellent mimics of bees, and may have black and yellow stripes along the abdomen. The adults are avid seekers of nectar from various flowers, although a few species feed on pollen. They are important pollinators, and can reach the nectaries of many wildflowers that are inaccessible to other flies. Their larvae are brood parasites on various species of bees and wasps.

 

 

Inside / Outside by Jaz Stutley

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INSIDE/OUTSIDE

 

I have a cat and she lives inside;

Inside the house, where she grows quite fat.

BUT often that fat cat wants to go outside;

Outside the house to hunt for a rat.

 

Inside, outside, inside, outside –

Cat at the window goes meow, meow, meow.

Inside, outside, inside, outside;

Make up your mind, cat, right away, NOW!

 

I have a dog and he lives outside;

Outside the house where he stays on guard.

BUT often that guard dog wants to come inside,

Inside the house and away from his yard.

 

Inside, outside, inside, outside –

Dog at the door going howl, howl, howl.

Inside, outside, inside, outside;

Make up your mind, dog, right away, NOW!

 

Jaz Stutley

 

Inside Out by Allan Cropper

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INSIDE OUT

I found a box

I saw ‘inside’

though what’s inside

I could not see.

Without a doubt

it’s inside out –

outside ‘inside’

just stares at me.

Perhaps ‘inside’

should be inside,

and ‘outside’ shown

externally

But no,  ‘inside’

was outside wrote –

What’s ‘writ’ inside

perplexes me.

© Allan Cropper

The Snooze by Monty Edwards

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The Snooze

 

When Dad’s at the seashore,

This bit he likes best:

After all the swimming,

Take a well-earned rest.

Once lunch is completed,

This is what he’ll choose:

Lying on his towel,

He will have a snooze.

 

Soaking up the sunshine,

Lying on the beach,

Seeking for a suntan,

Drink within his reach,j

How long he will lie there

None of us can guess.

Asked if he’s still snoozing

He just mumbles:”Yes”.

 

We return to swimming,

Wait for him to come,

When it doesn’t happen,

We send back our Mum.

Suddenly Mum wakes him:

“Dave, you’re getting hot!

You look like a lobster,

Lifted from the pot!”

 

Monty Edwards

 

Monty says: “I considered calling the poem “Redback!”, but in order not to confuse, chose “The Snooze”. Although the poem ends as above, one or both the following verses may be added for didactic purposes.”

 

Dad forgot to sunscreen:

Didn’t slip, slop, slap;

Left his head uncovered:

Didn’t wear his cap.

Now his back is blistered,

Face is sore and red,

He will struggle sleeping

Even in his bed.

 

We all learnt a lesson

On the beach that day,

Sunshine is a blessing

When you want to play,

But the sun can hurt you,

If you don’t take care

Best to have protection

With you everywhere.