In my world tigers eat leaves

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Selected poems

  

 

Sky

Stars, a mystical thing
Twinkle, twinkle they shine
Like the eye of a mischievous child
With a secret
Like the spitting flames of a camp fire
In the dead of night
Like the shine of water in late afternoon
Like the jewels on the lady's neck
You saw striding down the street today

Clouds, a miraculous object
Moving, blowing
They come together
They run away again
Like a special game only clouds can play
They block out the blinding sun
On overcast days
And when not there
They make the day
Look so glamorously clear of everything
You are forced to stop and admire it

We can all experience these things
All over the world.

— Estela Pintos-Lopez (age 12)

 


I remember those green fields

I remember those green fields
Those vast and luscious plains
Those never-ending winding roads
That loud and shattering rain.

I remember those busy towns
Those quiet empty streets
Those long and sandy beaches
Those cities, so unique.

I remember those crashing waves
That fresh and chilling breeze
That crystal sparkling water
Those giant towering trees.

Although it was nice to have this change
To discover all things new
To see places unfamiliar
Many different things to do

I will always love my country
Although I loved those plains:
My home, my town, my city
There's nothing quite the same.


— Aiva Johnson (age 12)




I bite into a crispy golden croissant

I bite into a crispy golden croissant
Perched underneath the Eiffel Tower
On my chequered picnic blanket
The smell fills me with open fields
And warm fires
My fingers slip on the buttery shell

The cherry blossoms dapple the sunlight
Around me,
Creating playful shadow puppets,
Controlled by Mother Nature
The cold sushi sends chills down my spine
Fresh and delicious
And one small sip of miso warms me up
Like the sun on a winter's day
These delicious foods caress my taste buds
Like oriental silks.

I scoop up curry with my dahl
And breathe in the tingling aroma of spices
Tickling my nose and
Burning in my mouth
Down my throat
Warming my whole body.

I start on a crunchy banh mi
Weaving in and out of the busy traffic
The traffic flows with me, trusting me
I trust it
It leaves me to eat in peace
My teeth crunch past the warm roll
Reaching the tender, soft pork
Moving on to the perfectly cooked egg
The yolk exploding in my mouth
Fresh green lettuce tips the scales
And balances everything out.

I pull the cheesy strings of my pizza
Stretching them on for miles
Starting at the tip and working my way
To the crust
While expressive conversations
And kegs of wine are
Passed around the room.

All around the world there are cultures
And languages, trtaditions and dress
And always good food.

— Arkie Barrett (age 12)

 


The fig tree

Down at the bottom of the paddock
There stands an old fig tree
I can see it from the window in the attic
And I know where I long to be
Sometimes I like to watch the ripples on the lake
Sometimes I like to meditate
Up in my fig tree in my own little world
I like to look at all the branches
Curled in their most peculiar way
Imagining, from my own world up in my fig tree,
The next cake I'm going to bake,
Asking what my clay is going to make.
When I'm in the tree alone
I know where I belong.

— Pepa White (age 10)

 


Beware the wild world

Hey, wait, what's that I hear?
With my left ear
You want to sail the world, you say?
If you do, you will pay.
From far and wide, monsters lurk
From the Comadoro lashing
To the little flurk
Beware the wild world.

No, no, don't go to the Isle of Low,
Where rivers of acid flow
The monstrous sharglich is found
Under the isle's ground.
It jumps from the dunes
With its poison harpoon
Then it will spear you through
Till you're nothing but goo.
Beware the wide world.

What about Cutoo
On the Isle of Loo?
Where the bumbaling unblings rule
Who eat meaty, muddy gruel
They will hunt you
Then put you in stew
Beware the wild world.

Oh wait, there's more
The jugger thug
With its big claw
On the Moogey Mill
With its lava lice.
Shun the Clooger
Who snub the Ogre
Beware the wild world.

This is why you should not go
On your journey high and low
Beware the wild world.

— Hector Hennessy (age 12)

 



The eagle

The eagle soars above the world
His keen eyesight catching every detail
The trees waving in the wind
The shrubs, trodden down
By the animals
The highest peaks being beaten
By the rain
He sees animals
Rabbits running into their holes
Deer cropping the grass
Koalas sleeping in their trees
He sees the city in the distance
The tall skyscrapers
Glistening wet with the rain
Planes flying high into the air
Cars driving along the roads
He hears the birds
Calling to each other
The gunshots of a hunter
A bushfire
He is gone.

— Red Durad (age 12)





My world

My world has tigers and birds
My world is full of trees that have nests made of wool
My world has lilypads floating in the sky
My world is special.

In my world the tigers eat leaves and play with sticks
In my world the birds don't fly, they swim.
In my world there is no ground, only water.
In my world it is different.
I love my world.

— Gracie Myers (age 9)

 

 

These seven poems were written by students of the Fitzroy Community School in Melbourne. They were among the many submitted to the Dorothea MacKellar Poetry Awards, the oldest and largest annual national poetry competition in Australia. This year's subject was 'All Over the World'.

 

Recent articles by Fitzroy Community School students.

Everything has its own colour

Topic tags: Fitzroy Community School students, poetry


 

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Existing comments

Thank you, Aiva, for restoring my faith in poetry. And thank you, Hector, for reminding me of Lewis Carroll.
Frank | 05 December 2017


Congratulations you special young people on gorgeous poems. And Gracie, keep loving your wonderful world. We wish we lived there too.
Ann and Gerry | 05 December 2017


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