Beach Cones by Monty Edwards

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Beach cones

 

The shapes I like are conical. They taper to the tip.

Perhaps you’ve seen some shells like that when going for a dip.

Such shells are very pretty and they’re great fun to collect:

Their range of colours, streaks and spots – much more than you’d expect!

 

While at the beach you may well see a different kind of cone:

Far bigger, in a lifeguard’s hand, it’s called a megaphone.

Through this his booming voice is heard to call us back to shore.

It’s warning us of danger we’d be foolish to ignore.

 

When heading home, our swimming done, one final cone I eat.

I’m sure you’ve guessed just what it is, so icy cold and sweet!

Then as I lick the one I pick, my tongue can taste and test.

Of all the cones I’ve ever known, I like an ice-cream best!

Monty Edwards

Monty says: With no clear direction, I made a list of shapes, along with articles that either embodied them or words that rhymed with them. I wanted to avoid the familiar square/cube and circle/sphere and work with something specific that was less common and also three dimensional. From my list of words and ideas the resources for a seaside scenario emerged featuring the cone.

 

Family Tree by Bill Condon

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Family tree

 

The mother was a ghost gum,

a really terrific tree-mum.

The father was a noble oak,

a shining prince of tree-dom.

You’d think with a family tree like that,

the offshoot would have to be a winner.

Instead he was a toothpick,

who lived in fear of dinner.

Bill Condon

 

Bill says: I wrote this years ago when I was very silly. Nothing’s changed.

 

The Holiday is Over by Carolyn Eldridge-Alfonzetti

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The holiday is over

 

Bone tired

Mum bends over yawning suitcases;

sorts by colour

the jumble

of sea-scented clothes.

 

The groaning washer

shudders in sympathy

as tiny souvenir shells

swim from sand-peppered pockets

to tinkle and swirl

in foreign

lemon-boosted foam.

Carolyn Eldridge-Alfonzetti
  • First published in The School Magazine (Touchdown, April 2011)

 

And Interview With T by Vivienne Nicoll-Hatton

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An Interview with T

 

You really want to know about me?

I’m not too ordinary for you?

I mean, I’m everywhere.

Even in Scrabble, my tiles are worth one, not two!

 

I like to keep slim, like my friends I.

E & F, and L, too,

Though they all look a bit unbalanced to me.

My horizontal hat is beautifully symmetrical.

You have noticed, haven’t you?

 

Being the 20th letter and so towards the end of the alphabet

means nothing!

I am the most frequently used letter

after those vowels, a, e, I and u.

And I’m not fussy about where I go inside a word,

Beginning, middle or end, doubled, to name just a few.

 

I’m a bit of a softy,

or at least the sound I represent is.

Toddlers can speak it by the age of two,

A gentle tap of the tongue to the roof of the mouth, behind the front teeth,

But don’t use your voice, you’ll get my cousin D’s sound if you do!

 

Do other letters want to hang about with me?

Yes, there are a few.

There are the vowels, and also some consonants

H is probably my best friend, because when he’s beside me to the left

We do this weird thing with G, you know, eight, night, and tight.

But when you put him to my right, we represent another sound, no, two.

Listen: TH: with voice we make they, their, there, they’re, and those.

Now listen again, TH: without voice we make thick, thin, thunder, through

 

Sufficient information, you say!

That’s fine. I know I’m a bit talkative.

But how many words within this little poem am I, your humble servant T, not in!

Count, I dare you to!

 

Vivienne Nicoll-Hatton

Vivienne says: I love poetry and am particularly concerned that we can get kids interested both in reading it, and then, later, writing it.

I also have an interest in English orthography: boring to many others, but not me. Hence my contribution.

 

 

 

 

 

T for Tree by Virginia Lowe

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T for Tree

 

Straight trunk

Typical tree

Outstretched arms

Thick canopy

Leaves trap the sun

brilliant green

Dark brown trunk

A child’s drawing

 

Burnished silver

Polished gum

Dead, but shining

in the morning sun

Froth of regrowth

at its roots

Towers a silver

toasting fork

Branches curve tortuous

weaving and gliding

starting way up

the tall straight trunk

the architecture

fully exposed.

 

Architecture exposed,

even living.

Dull eucalypt green

Narrow leaves

loosely bunched

hang down to escape

the sun’s rays

Trunk bright pink-gold

Burnished by

morning sun

 

Huge animals

that hopped

Egg-laying mammals

with duck bills

The first Europeans

couldn’t believe

their own eyes

Painted what

they longed to see

Dark trunk

outstretched branches

thick canopy

typical (Northern) tree

starting with T.

 

Virginia Lowe

Virginia says: I spent the first weeks of January in the mountains, Falls Creek (about 40 friends took over a ski lodge). Falls Creek was in the middle of a bushfire about 12 years ago, and is surrounded by bleached white dead trees – sad, but beautiful – and regrowing. I had several phrases in my mind, and the letter T sparked off contemplation about the comparison between Northern and Southern Hemisphere trees, and reactions to them.  It is my usual blank verse, short lines, with some half rhymes thrown in.

 

 

School Holidays by Myra King

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School holidays

 

Get outside and play you kids,

my mother said one day,

go climb a tree, or fly a kite,

just get outside and play.

 

But the tree is small,

the kite is broke,

it’s been raining here all day.

We have to stay inside today,

it’s far too wet to play.

 

We’ll have a look, the oldest said,

and find a middle ground.

We’ll channel surf the TV now

and see what can be found.

 

A show on rocks and mountain tops,

fresh air, and stuff like that

and here is one of flies in flight

and how to clip a cat.

 

Us younger ones are crying out

how boring are all those!

The oldest one just winks at Mum

and gets out raincoat clothes.

 Myra King

Myra says: Thinking about kids on school holidays and Mum wanting some peace and quiet. My sister was 10 years older than me and wise beyond her years.

 

Under the Stairs by Lynelle Kendall

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Under the Stairs

 

In my very big house

There’s a very small room

That’s just the right size for me

 

It’s under the stairs

It’s got pillows for chairs

And a torch so my teddies can see

 

There we read and we play

And tell stories all day

You see, we don’t need too much space

 

It’s all that I need

And I’m happy indeed

When I’ve crawled into my secret place.

 

Lynelle Kendall

 

T is for Trouble by Monty Edwards

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T is for TROUBLE

 

T’s always starting Trouble as we very clearly see,

In Trains it must sit at the front, as selfish as can be,

Then when it comes to Taking Turns, of course it must be first,

As Time and Time again, in this, it really is the worst.

 

Its influence is very bad, of that there is no doubt,

For when there’s work for it to do we find it backing ouT.

A man named Ben was joined by T and instantly was BenT,

So gained a reputation that was never his intent!

 

Now people sometimes tell you, you should “mind your Ps and Qs”,

But when it comes to letters there’s another that I’d choose.

Its awfully bad behaviour’s bound to lead you into error,

So I’d advise: “Beware of T!” It truly is a Terror.

Monty Edwards

Monty says: My basic idea for the poem was to work with the actual letter T: its position in words and how it could be taken from or added to words to change them into new words. Although I could find lots of examples, for me it proved difficult to shape these into any sort of coherent narrative that could be taken literally, and also had a consistent rhyming scheme (which was my goal). I nearly gave up, but I found giving the letter T a personality helped focus my effort and gave the poem unity.

Fields of Summer by Dianne Bates

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Fields of Summer

 

Peakhurst

A wilderness of T-trees

In our paddock playground

One free day in the midst of childhood

A day filled with everything

 

We are wild things,

Charging, ducking, hiding,

Flies swamping our sweaty faces

 

A dove, startled, flies up and

Petals fall like a sprinkle of rain

As we play

A game of cowboys and Indians

With imaginary guns

Bang! Bang! You’re dead!

 

Falling to the ground face-up

Wisps of clouds slide above

As if breathing in and out.

Dianne Bates

Dianne says: The letter T reminded me of tea-tree bushes that as children my brother, sister and I played among. We didn’t get much time to play as we were forever working on the farm (pigs, goats and poultry).