Sunday, September 30, 2012

Wrong Climate

gave us the first line.


A woman displayed her dismay
When invited to ride in a sleigh.
She was in Timbuctoo
So snowflakes were few.
She'd have been better off in Bombay!


Puff-ball perfection, white upon white;
Each flower identical, rotund and bright.
A bold sphere of elegance heralding Spring
And all the delights that the season will bring.
A big side-walk bonus that lights up the street.
A bubble of brilliance to prove life is sweet.

Pink Ribbon



There's a teeny little speck of me
Inside this little tot;
Diluted time and time again,
So there's really not a lot!
DNA! Such magic stuff!
It makes its own decision.
It mingles,couples and ejects,
Madly but with precision.
This little girl is carrying
That tiny speck from me
For her Grandma is my cousin's daughter,
From the Hogben family.
The child will neither know nor care
About this distant link,
As she lies there in her Grandma's arms,
Wearing a bow of pink!
The baby's an American
And I'm in the land of Oz,
While the shared bit is from England,
Where the Hogben family was.
It will matter less than nothing
In her great heredity,
But, funnily enough, in my old age
It means a lot to me.

Were I a raptor in the air, hovering over prey,
The earth would not look blank and clear, in this unoccupied way.
Human eyes, looking from a height, see a picture such as this,
But there are many, many things the human eye must miss.
We see the sea, we see the trees, the beach and sandy shore.
But the raptor soaring in the blue sees this and so much more.
He sees the little field-mouse as it trembles scared and cowering;
He sees it as a tasty meal he'll soon be overpowering.
He sees the minute insects as they scamper to and fro;
Each one a morsel he will snap as soon as he  flies low.
He sees the eggs deep in the nest, and fledglings by their side;
They are simply prey to him; there's nowhere they can hide.
We think that we see clearly, but our eyesight can't compare
With the vision of a raptor as it hovers in the air.
Back with 'les girls' again today. We had a meeting to discuss last Sunday's show.......most remarks were favourable but all agreed that our lack of mikes lets us down.Then we discussed our future progam, October's and November's, and then we read a new play, as Carole wrestled with my lyrics! I write them according to the tune in my head and I'm not always writing according to the correct music! Then, of course, we had the requisite tea-party and ended with a photo of 'The Class of 2012'.

Les Girls

Ros was the Photographer.

Unending Bending

suggests the quotation

(after Patience Strong)

'Sometimes you bend; sometimes you break'......
Mostly, it's the bending.
The human spirit lifts its game
When problems seem unending.
'I couldn't stand it!' we may say
Thinking of something bad.....
Illness, parting, even death......
Are all too dire and sad.
You expect to go right under,
Drown in the pain and sorrow;
Hide beneath the bed-clothes,
Refusing to face tomorrow.
Human-beings fail to 'break'
Even though bruised and battered,
And though their hopes and dreams sometimes
Are very cruelly shattered.
Time and again we marvel at
The way that we recover;
Our little trees bend in the gale
But don't break, we discover.
(106 words)

(To the tune of 'Hey Look Me Over!')

A parody from one of my melodramas.

Hey look me over!/ I’ve got it made!/ Romping in clover!/ Call a spade a spade/ I’ll have the lolly! / I’ll have the dosh!/ And all of the mud that is on my skirt will come out in the wash!/ And I’ll be up like a rainbow,/ Bright as the sun!/ I’ll see the rain go, / I’ll be number one!/ With a little bit more of the ‘how’s your father’ I’ll escape this slum! / So look out World here I come!/

Hey look at me, folks!/ I’ll get the cash!/ Won’t mess with poor blokes! / I shall be so flash!/ I’ll wear the satin. I’ll wear the silk/ And I‘ll have a servant to scrub my back when I bathe in asses milk!/ For I’ll be up with the nobs, girls,/ Drinking champagne!/ No dirty jobs, girls,/ Working is a pain!/ When you've got all your curves in the chosen places wasting them is dumb!/ So look out World here I come!/
It being school holidays in this neck of the woods, holiday photos are to the fore. Greg has just sent photos of Max and Harry enjoying a few days in Sydney.

In Hyde Park
On the Manly Ferry
In the Aquarium
On Bondi Beach

Wishful Thinking

Wishful Thinking

This week we use the title of a song from China Crisis.


Wishes have no power at all!
They just occupy the mind.
They are just little stories
Of a self-deluding kind.
They may be fun to think about;
Day-dreaming does no harm,
And manipulating the future
Has a certain flimsy charm.
But relying on the wishes
Is a very dangerous sport;
Thinking one can alter things
Just with the power of thought.....
Religious thoughts are wishful;
People hope for the best.
They call their wishful dreams 'belief',
And consider that they're blessed.
Maybe these thoughts console them,
But I will always shrink
From building my life on day-dreams
And relying on a wishful-think.


A letter and a number, and a message lies therein;
It says to us 'Just Be One and then you're bound to win'.
It's promoting mind over matter, and all that sort of guff,
But, believe me, imagination is never quite enough.
Throughout my dumpy, awkward years I longed to excel at sport,
Thinking I could 'B1' through the power of positive thought.
As a ball came hurtling to me I'd think 'I know I can!'
Saving the team from ignominy, that was my earnest plan.
I longed to be the heroine whom everyone applauded;
I longed to get a trophy and be universally lauded.
But the ball slipped through my fingers, or whizzed straight past my ear,
And all I heard was a soulful groan not a long and adoring cheer!
I'd admire the local athletes and think 'I can B1 too!'
But it was always obvious that I hadn't got a clue.
And the more I tried the more I failed! Till I often lay in bed
Thinking of the playing-field and wishing I were dead.
The Power of Positive Thinking can only go so far.
If you haven't got the equipment you can never be a star.
I soon gave up the struggle, knowing I could never 'B1',
And since then I've found a million things that give me much more fun.



supplied the first line


A woman who tended to whine
Told her husband that he was a swine.
She said 'I have found,
Just by looking around
That no husband's as awful as mine!


When we had that conversation, 
The casual one in the mall,
I didn't tell you I felt fine
Not missing you at all.
We talked in a stilted manner
About our daily lives,
No nasty innuendos,
No sticking-in of knives.
I asked about your mother;
You asked about my trip;
I said I was very busy;
We didn't make one slip.
We didn't remind each other 
Of the very last time we'd met;
Of the screaming accusations
That I know I don't forget.
We didn't mention the anguish
That we both were thinking of;
We didn't even hint at
That terrible thing called love.
I didn't mention Josie,
You didn't mention Ben.
Although they were so important
Way back, way back when.....
Both of us pretended
To be quite at our ease,
As though we'd just erased them,
The awful memories.
There were no backward glances,
No sentiment at all.
We were completely natural,
When I met you in the mall.
There was that one omission
So an apology's due.......
I didn't say 'I no longer love you.'
How could I? It isn't true.

Saturday, September 29, 2012



Oh thou great creature of the deep,
That haunts me and denies me sleep,
Whose serpentine and scaly tail
Lashes at great shark and whale,
Whose mouth breathes fire, whose teeth are knives,
Whose gaping mouth no thing survives!
What caused humanity to tell
Of thee thou terrible Prince of Hell?
What sparked a foul imagination
To create such an abomination?
Thou livest in the human mind 
And were by man alone designed.
From the human brain comes this ghastly creature,
Fearsome in every scale and feature.
Return  to the ocean now, forthwith,
For I know that thou art just a myth.



Where does shadow end?
Reflection.... where does that begin?
When a shadow is a reflection,
Which is going to win?
The table is a mirror
For the bowl that we see here,
But if it were not reflective,
A shadow would appear.
The sky we see reflected,
There's no doubt about that,
And the room's reflected in the bowl
Looking round instead of flat.
But the bowl has a shadow-reflection
Or so it seems to me.
Passing by a table
It's surprising what you see!

Serene Senility

         Brenda Bryant



If only we could bear our scars as proudly as this tree,
And soldier on against all odds into senility!
It's felt the wind blowing harsh and strong and still it's stood erect;
It's felt the drought crisping at its toes and suffered the neglect.
It's known the rain and known the hail; it's been battered and been bruised;
The lightning's shivered round its limbs and it has felt misused.
It's wrinkled now and out of shape; the future's looking grim;
But like a banner it reveals its crude, misshapen limb.
Yet still it stands erect and proud, waving its crown of green.
As proud to be a part of life as it has ever been.
No Botox here, no magic creams, no startling cures for age,
For it accepts that senility is just another stage.


And do they have a conversation
As they sit here in the sun?
Two old friends who've been together
Since their working lives were begun?
Do they discuss the sitters
When they get up to leave,
And when some go never to return
Do the two seats ever grieve?
'We haven't seen Sarah lately;
I wonder if she's been ill.'
(Sarah never did return
And the seats are waiting still.)
Seeing them sitting face to face
Casting shadows on the fence
Gives them a strangely human air.
But they probably talk more sense!




So China sets about making things
And does it with a will!
But I've a funny feeling
There's been a bit of over-kill!
By manufacturing everything
And paying workers poorly
China's affected other countries
And they've suffered sorely.
Factories have closed down
In countries in the West.
'Let's leave it all to the Chinese
Because they do it best.'
But all the millions of unemployed
Have little money to spend!
And that is bound to hurt 
The Chinese people in the end.
If noone buys the Chinese goods
Exports will simply stop
And then the Chinese wages
Will drop and drop and drop.
We sink or swim together,
Co-operation's best.
It's no good being self-centred
And ruining all the rest.
I know nothing of finance;
My case may not be strong.
But it seems to me that, somewhere,
We've got the whole thing wrong!
                                                           Brenda Bryant     
(A Haiku)

Now we see the sky
And the green grace of the leaves.
Soon will come the grapes.
Rebecca and her husband and son spent a lovely day at Jimmy's Beach earlier in the week. She took a lovely set of photos, which it is a joy to share.

Brian's private Paradise

Good to be alive.

Sand between Blake's toes.
Breeze-blown Rebecca.
Playing porpoises.
Bliss for Banjo.
(Becca AND the beach!)



Do I believe in magic?'
Certainly I do!
For magic is all around us,
Constantly in view.
I don't believe in 'numbers';
Or even 'horoscopes'
And I think those that do believe 
Are merely gullible dopes.
I don't believe in 'tea-leaves' 
Or even 'rabbit's feet';
And I think that Fortune Tellers
Are inclined to lie and cheat.
But I do believe in the magic
Of the atom and the cell;
And I do believe it's magic
 When a pearl grows in a shell.
I think the fact that I'm alive
Is magic undeniable;
And I think of magic when the sun comes up,
Daily and so reliable.
What need is there of Fairies,
Or Angels, come to that,
When we are floating in a magic
That's like some Magnificat?


You ask us to write about Shame
And my mind is blank!
Have I led a blameless
As opposed to a shameless,
I can recall moments of 
And, even, Unkindness.
But the memories
Are softened by time.
I'm sure I wasn't that bad after all!
At night I enjoy a dream-free sleep,
The sure sign of a clear conscience.
How is it then
That when I rest on the settee
For half an hour
In the afternoon,
And I doze,
Every stupid action surges back?
I'm jolted back to wakefulness
By the reliving
Of each miserable act!
I wake feeling I have only just committed it!
It is
 So fresh,
So bald,
So appalling,
So humiliating
That the thought kills all slumber.
Of course,
I can't recount my sins to you
Because I am wide awake.
Pity about that!

Friday, September 28, 2012


                     Margaret Gosden



Some lunar photos that we see
Really defy reality.
They show the moon filling-up the sky,
A great monstrosity way up high,
Beautiful but quite unreal,
With no veracity appeal.
The moon takes up such little space;
It's often hard to see the 'face'.
The vastness of the universe
Makes the moon look the reverse......
A tiny circle of glorious white
In the black enormous night.
But, here, it is perfect and serene,
The little lamp we all have seen,
With the sky, still blue, and clouds surrounding,
Small, but delicious and astounding.


I never had a Shirley Temple Doll!
That's why I'm such a crazy mixed-up pensioner!
Shirley Temple was the icon to extol.
I still go weak if anyone should mention her!
For she was such a perfect little girl,
With her dimples and her pretty curly hair!
She could tap-dance, she could curtsy, she could twirl!
All in all I felt that life was hardly fair!
But if I had had a Shirley Temple toy,
Some of the magic might have come my way.
And so I tried out every female ploy
Nagging my parents each and every day!
'All the other little girls I know have one! It's true!
I'm the only one without one that's for sure!
If I don't get one I don't know what I'll do!'
On and on I'd go with many an encore!
So my Mother bought a 'Shirley Temple' dress!
It said it on the label at the store.
So, in a way, I had a small success.
Though it never really evened up the score.
My life has been deprived, as you can see,
And I very nearly turned to alcohol!
Are there any others out there just like me
Who were denied a Shirley Temple Doll?
Here is THE dress!
(My small success!) 

Thursday, September 27, 2012

The Bay


Sydney Harbour, down the way,
Has a link to this gorgeous bay.
Nelson Bay, which is quiet and pretty,
Could have been a bustling city.
Botany Bay, near Old Sydney Town,
Where all the settlers were put down,
Was chosen over this peaceful spot,
Which is now just a little dot
On the huge map of Australia.........
But that doesn't mean that it's a failure!
Holiday-makers make their way
To enjoy the delights of Nelson Bay.


Are you seriously ordering another martini!'
Why not! The last one was only teeny.
What about the other six that went before?
Why am I lying on the floor?
I didn't come here to be embarrassed.
And I am sick of being harassed.
I've only been drinking lemon juice.
I'm trying to get up but it's no use.
Some first date this has proved to be!
I don't think you came in here with me.
Everyone warned me that you were a slob.
Are you one of the Clancy mob?
Good Heavens! You've even forgotten my name.
If you're forgettable I'm not to blame.
Are you seriously ordering another martini?
Only if you take off your bikini!

Wednesday, September 26, 2012




Are you a kicky-wicky? The answer is probably 'Yes'.
If you're reading this and you're female you're a kicky-wicky I'd guess.
Of course, some of you may not be but I'd say the vast majority
Would belong, as I do, to the kicky-wicky sorority.
Shakespeare was a genius, very far from a dunce,
But he invented this silly word and he only used it once.
'All's Well that Ends Well' Shakespeare wrote ; that was one of his plays,
And, in it, he invented this word on one of his few 'off' days!
The word means 'wife!  Can you credit it?  It really is obscure.
Is it any wonder that the nonsense did not endure?
If you're famous, like Shakespeare, you can make-up words at will,
But if I tried doing the same thing I'd be treated as  a  dill.
A friend suggests that this word would have had more meaning in the days when it was acceptable to kick one's wife around!


The tragi-comedy that is life is captured here so well.
That's Heaven flying out the window; this breakfast table is Hell.
This must be the nineteen-thirties, judging by dress and hair,
And, in the nineteen-thirties, life was far from fair.
She married because...... she married. Wasn't that what everyone did?
And women, in the nineteen-thirties, just did as they were bid.
A little girl at sixteen, a wife at seventeen.
Ask her about education. Ask her where she's been.
And , oh, it was all so lovely, being asked to be a wife!
On a cloud of white tulle she expected to sail through a joyous life.
So much for expectations. She very quickly found
That the man of the house didn't notice her, didn't care if she was around......
Except in his bed when 'habit' soon replaced the first night of passion,
And 'hubby' became unpleasant if he didn't get his ration!
Look at her face and see 'last night'; it's written there quite clearly.
She desired the title of 'Mrs' but she's paying for it dearly.
So now he's reading the paper; men need to follow the news.
We know he'll never discuss things, or ask her for her views.
He'll be off in a moment after, maybe, a peck on the cheek,
And she'll stand and watch his departing back, feeling unsure and meek.
And then she'll do the ironing, and even make a cake;
And she'll never dream of admitting that, maybe, she's made a mistake.
Why should she? For she is a woman, and this is the life she's got.
Yes, she is a woman, and her's is a woman's lot.
Mr Rockwell, when you painted this, what was in your mind?
If you thought it merely funny, how could you be so unkind?

A much more low-key 'gig' today. We performed for the National Seniors' Group at Adamstown. It was their tenth birthday and so we had to wait awhile until they'd completed their cutting-the-cake palaver but, once they were settled, they proved to be a good audience and, as you can see, the men were good sports.

The Squire, Dan the Librarian, Mother and the spotless Heroine.