Posted in Life

Thoughts of an enigmatic spectator

She is an enigmatic spectator

perplexed by this impossible game.

Never knowing when the bell will toll.

Never knowing when darkness will fall.

She wants. She wants to be… here.

She is an enigmatic spectator.

Pretending to know what she’s doing

expectant of something to happen

clutching to the tails of reality

afraid of letting go

and falling into oblivion.

She is an enigmatic spectator.

This global animation is a party

and she dreams of her place in the light.

She is a story destined for the stars

living and learning

hoping – this dance never ends.

She is an enigmatic spectator. 

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Posted in Australia

Rhyme and Reason: Why give the taxman more money?

 

Storm clouds gather around this sky scraper

why must every day feel like a battle

all we’re asking – is look at the papers

there is more to it than just tattle.

 

Have you dreamt of sailing around the world?

Or buying a cottage out on the bay?

Or creating as your golden years twirled?

Living out your life – free- day to day?

 

Monkey Man would have you chained to your desk

trapped and imprisoned in the daily grind

ol’ weary travellers will have no rest

till they reach fifty years – having served time.

 

Why give all your money to the taxman?

Wealthy – he’s like the mouse that got the cheese.

Why wait till later? Why not make a plan?

Earn some money now not lose it on fees.

 

Monkey man is not going to help you

he’ll have you work till your six feet under

So pull it together, let it accrue

it is your future; not that Mans plunder.

 

***

Prompt: Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 19 – Rhyme and Reason 

 

Posted in Australia

St. Kilda Pier

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Pausing above the breakwater

on the edge of St. Kilda Pier

capture a father and daughter

tangled in photography gear.

Her pink scarf dances in the breeze

as her world falls behind the trees.

In the shadows with bells and chimes

she stops being guarded by time.

Enchanted by the soft whistles

emerging from the creaking boats.

Posts, etched in sailors initials

tells the stories of life afloat.

Raptures of little blue penguins

Modeling for their human friends

nestle themselves in the deep rocks

quiet and safe along the docks.

Posted in Life

Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 16: School Days

Inspired by Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 16:

 

 

Bomber jacket over navy blazer

black gothic hair and skeleton satchel

conversations about vampires and ghosts

scrawled across feeble exercise books.

Walking north to a religious prison

resistance was met and judged by Fathers

asking about Church attendance on Sunday

and expectations of Confirmation.

School was like society’s theatre

marionettes performing to loud bells

and playground whistles choreographing

a sea of blue polo tops and black shorts.

I stood in the wings, the old science block

was my home for three years, Guildford Rd site

Copying math homework and writing poems

I still can’t believe I failed English class.

The best days were further down this long road

Sixth Form found a brown-eyed girl called Charlie

where love and friendship began its journey

happy in her individuality.

Posted in Australia, England, Life, Loss, Technology, Time

Farewell, Postman Pat

It’s time to hang your hat, sir.
Your work has come to an end.

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Harry S Alford My Grandfather the Postman
I’ll miss the hand waves and the bells
of a much beloved friend.
Seeing you early each morning
counting out the coloured cards
placing them through each letterbox
with a smile, wink and kind regards.
Rain or shine, you were always there
the glue that held the villages
together with paper and ink
and postcards of flowery bridges.
But, the wheels of time push progress
and you have been found wanting.
Time, she has made you redundant
and so Death has begun knocking.
It’s time to hang up your hat, sir.
Your work has come to an end.
We’ll remember you in our scrapbooks
and label you, a long lost friend.
 
Poem was inspired by an article in The Age: Are you ready to abandon snail mail
 
Posted in Writing

OneDayOneWorld – Hour Two – 1pm

Written for the 1 Day 1 World Project – one hour a week around the world.

Photo taken just after 1pm at Half Moon Bay, Victoria, Australia.

Sunday 1pm


Out on the road for Mum’s Day

drawn to a beach symphony

of seagulls across the bay

trying to catch the imagery.

An animation of friends

singing in wondrous chorus

to the town around the bend

their melody was flawless.

Posted in England, Life

Bourne Road

Pooky’s Poetry Prompt 11:

 

 

Back in the days of jeans and bandana’s
I would tip toe along the old stone brick walls
taking a swing on the old iron gate
into the old tennis-racket shaped road.
We were the children of the River Bourne
playing happily above our ancient wood
cycling in circles around our bubble
waiting to venture down the unknown path.
We created chalk worlds on the grey pavement
where our art reflected our village life
of summer carnivals and bonfire nights
bringing this circle into another vibe.
I remember standing outside my home
eighteen years of me imprinted in those bricks
echoes of laughter bound through the parish
as I waltzed into the woods, goodbye.
The 90s children have all grown and gone
new pedals and canine friends take their place
but the brown robins are still all twittering
like the old ladies down by station house.
The road I grew up on belongs elsewhere
in a time of jeans and bad bandana’s
when dancing to ‘Under the Sea’ was cool
and dinner was hot curry sauce on chips.
 
Posted in Life, Music

You Gotta Be…

Inspired by Pooky’s Poems where today’s challenge involved writing a poem to the rhythm of a song you enjoy. I chose Des’ree ‘You Gotta Be’ because this song has been stuck in my head since the first day I heard it back in 1994; when I was a nine year old English village girl getting up to mischief in her ‘Little Mermaid’ roller-skates. I kept the chorus because I feel as though it’s always been my life lesson.

 

This is who you are today

brown eyes on a summer day

stepping our from behind Grandpa’s knee

Your friends, they will grow with you

fly with you to Timbuktu

live, laugh, dance, this planet

young birds flying free.

 

You gotta be…

You gotta be bad, You gotta be bold, You gotta be wiser

You gotta be hard, You gotta be tough, You gotta be stronger

You gotta be cool, You gotta be calm, You gotta together

All I know, All I know, love with save the day.

 

Listen to want Des’ree said

seal the words inside your head

cherish every chapter cherish every line

some will teach you how to be

but all you need is family

my oh my, yea, eh eh

 

You gotta be bad, You gotta be bold, You gotta be wiser

You gotta be hard, You gotta be tough, You gotta be stronger

You gotta be cool, You gotta be calm, You gotta together

All I know, All I know, love with save the day.

 

I know you’re only nine, but life is beginning

story’s start – moments of time and space

the years keep on turning

they won’t stop; they will find you

one day you will wake up to another face

whoa-oh-oh

 

You gotta be bad, You gotta be bold, You gotta be wiser

You gotta be hard, You gotta be tough, You gotta be stronger

You gotta be cool, You gotta be calm, You gotta together

All I know, All I know, love with save the day.

 

Listen to want Des’ree said

seal the words inside your head

cherish every chapter cherish every line

some will teach you how to be

but all you need is family

my oh my, yea, eh eh

 

Posted in Time, Writing

OneDayOneWorld – Hour One – 12pm

Ever wondered what everyone else is up to at any given time on any given day? The following was written for / inspired by the 1 Day 1 World Project running from May to October (24 weeks) where each week will unveil a particular hour around the world.

Sunday 12pm

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Bound inside my suburban walls

like the spider caught in the drain

watching as the dark shadows fall

under the loud thundery rain.

Nestled in my big blue armchair

I read my book and drink my tea

the smell of pizza fills the air

with my warm fuzzy boots and me.