If the sun is warm in the morning,
If the breeze begins to blow,
If I come to yours in a hurry,
Where will we both go?
If you run with me down the sand-dunes,
If the waves begin to curl,
If you jump with me in the ocean,
Then I’ll teach you how to surf.
Image from Pixabay
This grevillea inflorescence
is like a hairy Huntsman spider
lying up-side-down.
Delicate pink appendages,
fuzzed and curled,
make awkward question marks
from those posing bendy legs.
Will the next hairy Huntsman then,
seem a fuzzy flower
with curvy pistil tubes?
Perhaps…
if it is dead…
But, maybe that’s too sad to say.
It must be fun to run that way,
‘BOO!’
Teacher’s Note: Often called “Spider Flowers”, Grevilleas are Australian natives. The pistil is the curving part of the grevillea made up of style and stigma. Inflorescence is a fancy word for flower.
Image from Pixabay
“I see that your eyes are so blue,”
said Jenny to charming young Hugh.
She blew him a kiss
of ultimate bliss
and fainted head first in the stew.
Image from Pexels
There once was a chicken called ‘Polly’,
whose name sounded happy and jolly,
‘til one morning at two,
she crowed, “cock-a-doo,”
now our chook is a rooster called Wally.
Image from Pixabay
It’s a tick-tock clocka,
or that’s the word it used to be:
Let’s play the bells on the glockenspiel.
The bells would clang
for the missionary monks,
and the word travelled ’round
with its clocka sounds.
A clock is a clanger
that hangs in the steeple.
Later, cloak comes from clock,
like a bell-coat for people.
So, the word for bells pealing,
cloaks secrets, concealing
that clock is a contranym
– its very own antonym.
Image from Pixabay
The wide sea swells with muscular power:
surges under thundering clouds.
Waves
in chaos
rush and tower,
careless of steepness,
smash
in whirls of foam,
slam
on slabs of rock.
Until
tiring,
sighing.
Rays of sunlight
slice a shredded grey sky,
sparkling silver sequins twinkle
on her scaly skin,
and the ocean lies still.
Vast and deep is the mighty sea that roars.
Yet, at curving edges, surfers ride waves,
landing softly on sandy shores.
Sleeping under an afternoon haze,
the sea stretches out between headlands:
a salty green ocean
beneath the sky’s hot breath.
A toddler with his mother is paddling in the shallows,
where little ripples run up the beach now the storms are gone.
The Sea by Jeanette Swan
Image from Pixabay
If we could float in a paper boat,
we’d rock and bob on the turquoise sea,
I would sing for you in Imaginese
so painted whales rise from the deep.
If we could float in a paper boat,
I’d call flotillas of butterflies
to flutter and bumble across the sky
past clouds where dreamy creatures fly.
Could you imagine this was true?
This is what I wish we’d do.
IMAGINE THIS by Jeanette Swan
Artwork: YOU ARE HERE by Hayley Gillespie
Who is that banging on the door?
Read on, read on…
…Who’s there? Guess who?
Knock, knock, it’s you…
…In a faraway land, in a dreamy corner,
a small bunyip was sleeping and snoring…
…’Sing in the storm,’ whispered Dotty.
‘See now. Now, it’s stopping…’
Reading pages, turning, turning,
other worlds, ancient, modern…
Scary, sweet, funny, deep:
I walk in stories; poems I feel.
Tomorrow, tomorrow
I’ll borrow another…
Every day I need to read!
I really love the library:)
I NEED TO READ by Jeanette Swan
Image by Pixabay
The whoosh of the wind has lifted its sail.
It flips and flaps and flicks its tail.
My kit-packet kite is pecking the sky,
jigging and jagging, higher and higher!
Soaring in circles – a marvellous thing!
I am the keeper.
I hold the string.
Oops, it’s in a tree…
Image from Pixabay
