At the Park

Great sticks in hand

we marched along

in lines as straight as roads

heading to the forest

where trees stand tall in rows

A sudden halt

I ground my stick

look back way o’er my shoulder

he follows,  s l o w

stick trailing now

behind my little brother

“Come on!” I cry

to speed him up

one last green stretch to cover

not knowing what the forest holds

it’s best we stayed together

He caught up fast

stick raised up now

and pointed like a sword

quietly we crept along

eyes peeled as we moved forward

tip-toe

tip-toe

tip-toe

tip -

We stop again

feet poised and still

and listen to the breeze

it brings the sounds of something

that lives within these trees

We feel it getting closer

hot breath and heavy steps

sniffing those who trespass

growling

then he leapt!

The fury of the dragon

was felt in flames of red

firing from his toothy mouth

smoke swirling round his head

We squeal as terror finds us

deep in this tree-lined forest

swords waving ‘round

as high-pitched cries

and beating wings surround us

Running hard

we stumble t’wards

the lit end of the path

an exit from the danger

a dragon’s angry wrath

Feet flying now

we cross the grass

and flop onto the mat

relieved, and breathing hard

we laugh … should we go back?

*This poem was featured as "Poem of the Day" on the Australian Children's Poetry site here.

Swinging

This poem is for my son who loves to swing.

Higher! Higher!

I’m soaring over trees!

Gliding over branches

thick with emerald leaves.

Higher! Higher!

I can almost touch the sky!

I think I saw an aeroplane

with bright red wings race by.

Higher! Higher!

I see the moon up close!

Its surface marked with craters

and dark, solid lava flow.

Higher! Higher!

Into space I go!

Comets zooming past me;

stars sparkle, planets glow.

Higher! Higher!

My rocket swings me up!

‘til at the top I fall again

in one almighty drop!

Higher! Higher!

… please?

Twelve Treasures

My children love to go treasure hunting. 

At the beach parks, we pretend to be on a boat which stops at islands, each holding a different treasure to find. Rough things, smooth things, brown things, green things. The emphasis always on texture or colour. As they've grown older, they like to find things based on clues, so I wrote this treasure hunting poem for them. It's simple - twelve treasures - that can be found while on a walk or playing in the park. 

Sometimes I'm round, sometimes I'm  l o n g .

When the wind blows I help make a song.

I'm a ... (leaf).

I grow down low right on the ground.

Under your feet I can be found.

I am ... (grass).

I'm made of wood and thin as can be.

I used to grow up on a tree.

I'm a ... (stick).

Sometimes I'm rough, sometimes I'm smooth.

Sometimes I'm big and hard to move!

I'm a ... (rock).

I can be pink, yellow, purple, or even red.

I'm found in every flowerbed.

I'm a ... (petal).

I'm found on trees and am often rough.

Trunks need me to stay really tough.

I am ... (bark).

I wear shiny armour and scuttle about.

I have six little legs and sometimes wings that spread out.

I'm a ... (beetle).

I have woody scales arranged in rows.

Up on a tree I used to grow.

I'm a ... (pinecone).

I'm made of grains, tiny and white.

A handful of me feels very light.

I am ... (sand).

I'm round like the moon or curved like a smile.

I hold tiny seeds tight for quite a while.

I'm a ... (seed pod).

I have three green leaves, each shaped like a heart.

If you find me with four, it's a lucky start!

I'm a ... (clover).

I carry my house on my back and move oh so   s  l  o  w  .

I like it best outside when the rain starts to flow.

I'm a ... (snail).