Penny’s poems

Under 8’s When I was barely eight years old My mother did despair, ‘Cause even though I was a girl I thought this was unfair. For boys always had much more fun Than girls could ever know. They got to choose what they would do; Girls kept the status-quo. So, I’d pretend I was a boy And dress with that in mind, In hand-me-downs my brothers gave While dresses I declined. My poor mother was mortified Her little girl would not Conform and be more lady-like - A tomboy’s what she got. So, there I was one Sat’dy ‘morn All dressed in footy gear, When fate stepped in and brought to bare My mother’s greatest fear. A rugby coach came up and said “I don’t know what’s his name – But would your son be keen to play? Our team’s short for this game.” “My son’s a girl” my mum replied, Much to the man’s dismay. But undeterred, I argued for The right for me to play. I don’t know how, I can’t recall Somehow, I won the day Convinced them all I’d be alright - Ran on to ...

Ten Cents I grew up in the suburbs Where the streets were lined with trees We had backyard games of cricket And the flowers called to bees Where my Mum would give me ten cents To run errands at the shops For something she’d forgotten Maybe mince or peas or chops So on hot days I would have to walk (Coz I didn’t have a bike) And dream of what ten cents would buy So many things that I would like I prob’ly should have worn a hat For my hair was flaming red And freckles dotted on my skin But there was nothing on my head I’d choose a route that let me walk The shortest way I could Avoid the hills, marauding dogs, And boys up to no good I’d feel the sun upon my neck Cicadas shrilly calling The deafening noise the backdrop to The groceries I’m hauling With the sticky juice of icy pole Running slowly down my thumb Where my tongue jumps in to rescue Before it continues to succumb And the walk back home seems longer Though you know that can’t be true So you...

Rastus We had a dog when I was young Of dubious descent A Kelpie, Labrador type cross You’d say, a chance event We got him from the pound back then That’s the way that it was done No fancy breeders or pet shops You nagged … and then you won A trip was planned and off you went One Saturday to choose A dog that jumped or sat or barked Or maybe one that snoozed And then you had to pick a name Where everyone agreed A name that matched his temperament, His colour, and his breed Our dog was mad! Would bound about, We never had control. He jumped the fence, went underneath, Would dig another hole. Escaping from the yard each day He roamed the neighbourhood. Stole loaves of bread, sheets from the line, Generally did nothing good. He could be a good fielder When cricket was our game But spoilt it all by running off When the ball we tried to claim. I’ve never seen food go so fast When put up in his bowl You’d have to say at the very least He was lacking in...