On Gratitude

I am doing a short course titled “Poetry Writing for Fun” through my local U3A. This week we were asked to write something using personification and repetition. Here is my attempt:

I am Gratitude

I gave her the ocean –

She wants bigger waves.

I gave her good health –

She says she’s bored.

I gave her friends –

She asks for more.

I gave her love –

She seeks perfection.

I gave her peace and quiet –

She longs for the City lights.

If only she would know me –

She would have it all.


The mind journey to work …

I am startled awake by the alarm
I get up and methodically eat and get ready for work
I don’t want to go – not really – don’t feel up to it.
I must go – just deal with getting to work
Then deal with getting started
Drive to my next location – notice the colours of the cars
Be in the moment
Be friendly and do what I have to do
Remember that life is about love – be loving – be friendly
Pretend to be confident – no-one will know I am pretending
Enjoy the sunshine – relax into it
Drive to the next location
Try and do a good job – be loving
It gets easier as the day progresses
Healed by the warm sunshine and warm smiles
Do what I need to do – be kind
I am grateful for a good day.

Passionfruit flower PS

Once upon a skink :-)

A skink is not a skunk
No matter what you think
Not even if you are truly drunk
A skink is a skink as sure as ink is ink!

Now a skunk is altogether different
And never to be found Down-Under
Skinks love my home, it is apparent
How many live here – I wonder?

Skinky One is drinking out the back
Another sighted in the front this morning
Reptilian friends – we have no lack
You can be sure life is never boring!

A Special Gift

fairy wren


The pretty blue fairy wrens had nothing to do
When one of them spotted a pretty blue stone
One said “I will fly close and inspect it for you”
He soon called out for help to carry it home.

Just at that moment and very close by, a little girl is born
She is very sick and might not live
Her parents are indeed quite forlorn
The fairy wrens decide they have something important to give.

They magically carry the precious blue stone to the babe
And cleverly hide it in her tiny navel
They disappear quickly into a nearby cave
And wait for news via twitter or cable.

The little girl is now better and going home to stay
Her lovely eyes are becoming a pretty shade of blue
The tiny blue stone glows within her each and every day
As she gets older the wrens decide to give her a clue.

She learns that the little blue stone
Is full of love, wisdom, truth, beauty and kindness
It is always there to help her when she feels so alone
It frequently helps her out of a mess.

Inside she becomes beautiful, wise, honest, loving and kind
But others don’t seem to know about her little blue stone
She wants to tell them, if they look carefully, they too will find
There is a special gift inside each of us waiting to lovingly bring us home.

My favourite poem for this week

When I set myself the task of finding a poem to post this week I had no idea how difficult it might be. Most of the poetry I found (and liked) was about death, grief and broken hearts and I didn’t want to go there. I am also a little nervous about posting poems that are subject to copyright. I think the one I have found overcomes these obstacles. It is called:


Last night while I sat watching

There came a dream so fair

A television drama packed

With all its usual flair

The Thane of Fife had a carving knive

And a damned spot plagued the Queen

While the virtues of Palmolive Soap

Were lauded in between

Then Lancelot mused a little space

And Shylock rocked with glee

‘ A pound of that poor merchant’s flesh

Will fare me well for tea’.

The fate of kings and clowns and queens

Is often cruel and crude

As Joan of Ark was heard remark

When she was barbecued.

But on with the dance, here’s Hungry Jack

And a dozen females squeal and quack

The virtues of a tasty snack.

If life is dull and you are bored

See Westpac; splash out; buy a Ford!

A notation says it comes from a poem by Jim Jones called Sixty Minutes and brought up to date by an anonymous would-be poet.

little stars


Three poems by Edward Lear (1812-1888)

I hope you enjoy these three little poems as much as I did :-).

Ferguson Valley 034 (Copy)

There Was an Old Man with a Beard

There was an old man with a beard,

Who said, “It is just as I feared!-

Two Owls and a Hen, four Larks and a Wren,

Have all built their nest in my beard!

There was an Old Man in a Tree

There was an old man in a tree,

Who was horribly bored by a Bee;

When they said, “Does it buzz? He replied, “Yes it does!”

“It’s a regular brute of a Bee!

There was an Old Man Who Supposed

There was an old man who supposed,

That the street door was partially closed;

But some very large rats, ate his coats and his hats,

While that futile old gentleman dozed.


From the Norton Anthology of Poetry – Third Edition (W W Norton & Company, New York & London)

Ode to Laughter

I found this little poem in an old book of my mother’s called Philosopher’s Notebook. It was compiled by Monty Blandford and published by Hallcraft Publishing Company in 1952.


A laugh is just like sunshine,

It freshens all the day;

It tips the peaks of life with light,

And drives the clouds away.

The soul grows glad that hears it,

And feels its courage strong,

A laugh is just like sunshine

For cheering folks along.

A laugh is just like music,

It lingers in the heart,

And where its melody is heard

The ills of life depart.

And happy thoughts come crowding,

It’s joyful notes to greet,

A laugh is just like music

For making living sweet.


flowers from Tom 002 (Copy)


A poem: Magpies by Judith Wright

wild life 004 (Copy)

Along the road the magpies walk
with hands in pockets, left and right.
They tilt their heads, and stroll and talk.
In their well-fitted black and white.

They look like certain gentlemen
who seem most nonchalant and wise
until their meal is served — and then
what clashing beaks, what greedy eyes!

But not one man that I have heard
throws back his head in such a song
of grace and praise — no man nor bird.
Their greed is brief; their joy is long.
For each is born with such a throat
as thanks his God with every note.

Magpies by Judith Wright was published in Poets and Poetry by Sadler/Hayllar/Powell. Published by Macmillan, 1992

* Judith Wright was a prolific Australian poet, critic, and short-story writer, who published more than 50 books. Wright was also an uncompromising environmentalist and social activist campaigning for Aboriginal land rights. She believed that the poet should be concerned with national and social problems. At the age of 85, just before her death, she attended in Canberra at a march for reconciliation with Aboriginal people.


A poem from “Word From Home” – an Anthology

Word from Home is an anthology of prose and verse compiled for THE KING’S FORCES by Lt. General Sir Tom Bridges and published by English University Press.

I often pick up books that look interesting and this is one such book. It came out in 1940 and has a diverse range of poems and poets. I have selected one to share today.   It is called The Sunken Garden by Walter De La Mare.

Speak not – whisper not;

Here bloweth thyme and bergamot;

Softly on the evening hour,

Secret herbs their spices shower,

Dark-spiked rosemary and myrrh,

Lean-stalked, purple lavender;

Hides within her bosom, too,

All her sorrows, bitter rue.

Breathe not – trespass not;

Of this green and darkling spot,

Latticed from the moon’s beams,

Perchance a distant dreamer dreams;

Perchance upon its darkening air,

The unseen ghosts of children fare,

Faintly swinging, sway and sweep,

Like lovely sea-flowers in the deep;

While, unmoved, to watch and ward

Amid its gloomed and daisied sward

Stands with bowed and dewy head

That one little leaden Lad.


Weekly photo challenge: Abandoned

I wrote a poem this morning as part of the writing course I am doing.

It just so happens that my school experience links with this week’s photo challenge. As it is a PHOTO challenge, I have chosen an old school photo to match the theme. I really DID feel abandoned on that day. It didn’t take long to get used to school, but I still didn’t enjoy it. I have only learned the joy of studying in recent years 🙂


Mum left me in a big room

Boys, girls, Sister Kevin

I struck out in fear

I had to stay – Mum left me


Boys, girls, lunch boxes

The stale smell of unwashed flannels

Banana sandwiches every-day

Awful warm milk at playtime


Spelling is fun h I p p o p o t o m u s

Cuisenaire blocks – to add up and take away

A prize for top of the class

Maybe school is OK


Latin Mass, First Communion

Rosary beads, confession, and penance

The smell of incense

Not at Mass? Line up for the strap


Decades have come and gone

Back to the same church

This time it is saying goodbye

To my loved ones and to my past