Long Wallabies Poems
Long Wallabies Poems. Below are the most popular long Wallabies by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wallabies poems by poem length and keyword.
Pups, imps, joeys, wiggling tailed marsupials, hunting in parties of five.
Deadly facial cancer has killed lots of us, it’s a wonder I am still alive.
I screech when I eat, carrion, my utmost favorite food, road kill.
My aggression insured me at babyhood alive I would be still.
There were fifty in my litter, but only four teats so we scrappers had to fight.
Growling and viciously, snarling at each other, slapping away nice ones in the night.
Our mother was grabbed by a caveman devil who dragged her off by the neck.
I was incensed, and promptly chased after them, thinking “what the heck?”
Some of my siblings were frightened out of the old hollow log,
not many decided to stay.
I was not one of them. I showed my teeth,
and my aggressors promptly ran away.
Wombats, wallabies, opossums and other animals on this island of mine.
Steer clear of my hollow log, knowing I will
snap them up and eat them in no time.
Excitement filled the bushland as December was near
Every creature had been waiting for Christmas time - all year.
Wallabies hung their stockings on a gumtree branch with care
Just as all nice children do – everywhere.
Meanwhile those more up to date logged on the internet
sending E mails to Santa to see what they could get
Koalas draped high treetops with shiny garlands green
And furry possums lined their dens in golden glitter sheen
Wallabies joined in with bright balloons hung on their tails
All the crows tied streamers, cascading from the rails.
Kookaburras’ laughter changed to Christmas songs
While magpies and peewees piped along in throngs.
A wombat and a bandicoot made honeysuckle punch
The parrots came too early and drank’ til they got drunk
And when the’ Magic Pudding’ came to help with Christmas Dinner
His taste was so delicious he left a trifle thinner.
With a Kangaroo as Santa, his pouch stuffed full of cheer
hopping ‘round the outback in the hottest time of year
Just guess what all the drovers got- lots of ice-cold beer.
Suzanne Delaney
For Children's Christmas Poem Contest for Carol Eastman
How to find the art of living,
how to find the art of love
To find the very art of harmony
circulating from above
Native trees shrubs and tussocks
growing down along the creek
Birds, wallabies, frogs, echidnas,
that's the kind of life I seek
Planting seeds in the garden,
building a wooden fence
It's the nature that surrounds me,
that really makes so much sense
Lying on my back in the sunshine,
watching fluffy clouds go by
Sometimes a wedge tailed eagle
glides across a clear blue sky
Running on the grass bare feet
naked in the warm moist breeze
Exhilaration fills the body,
with so much delighted ease
Found the very art of living,
found the very art of love
Found the very art of harmony
circulating from above
Charred wood and ash
stink, after fires
in Garigal high-country.
A single crow cries
road-side, on a black tree-post
guarding road kill –
a round brown wallaby
with feet stuck-up.
Ash covers ash:
grey dust lies still...
until rain drizzles sweet liquid,
wets dirt, licks seeds, nudges life.
Seeds swell, unfold,
lift leaves to prick the air :
grass-whiskers spring up.
Fat globes of summer-rain spill
between sandy soil-crumbs
where roots sip silver water.
One tomorrow, black-skinned scarred tree-trunks will sprout leafy chests,
and white cockatoos will screech graffiti over skies patched with clouds.
Once more, warm lips of wallabies will graze over green grasses,
nibbling: blessed again.
"We are one, but we are many and from all the lands on earth, we come" Bruce Woodley and Dobe Newton
There's a special kind of feeling,
a pride that's so appealing.
The people passing in the street,
say "G'day" That's the way we greet.
From someone we know, there's a smile.
We'll often stop and talk for a while.
Rarely a hurry, that we cant afford a chat.
This land around me is just like that.
The first to live here were indigenous tribes.
English came to settle as history describes.
Aussies all of us, yet we're from every land.
A comradeship among us, we understand.
You see, the world around me is right here.
There's an honesty about us with little fear.
A richness in this country, not much we lack.
Not near beaches, I live in the outback.
Gum trees grow where my house stands.
Its quite different to all the other lands.
Orange soil and mountain ranges long.
There's a familiar feeling that we all belong.
The scent of eucalypt fills the atmosphere.
Man woman and child all glad we are here.
To be born here is just a bit of luck and fate.
But no matter how we came we'll be right mate.
Some say we are a weird mob the way we joke.
Most of us are ready to help another bloke.
The animals I chance to see here in the bush,
are unique to us when shove comes to push.
Emus and Roos, Koalas, Platypus, Wombats,
Possums and Wallabies and our own Bush Rats.
We act like we are proud of our deadly snakes.
To scare a tourist with a tall tale is all it takes.
A melting pot with all types and colours of skin,
We are all Aussies and everyone seems to fit in.
There's floods and drought and some crime,
but this is the world around me, I'll spend my time.
Night brings a wondrous display
a mix and blended menagerie arrayed
with colors, melodies and creatures unmatched
by any hunter's imaginary superiority scratched.
In my wildest dreams at the midnight hour
comes the magical images of children's power,
a cartoon reality that finds life so interesting
with visions of all nature in peace co-mingling.
The majestic trees germinate flowers to grow then fall
where feathered birds and squirrels gather beneath its shawl
of catkin clutches formed to pollinate some distant tree of long ago
with love and purposeful blend hosted under the rainbow mistletoe.
Each dream images the strangest encounters
in melodic song for wallabies and flounders,
making sense of what was displayed in the vision quest
still lies a secret unrevealed to this nightly guest.