Wednesday, February 29, 2012


                                                                                                           Brenda Bryant


'Glitter', on a human scale
Is, very often, gaudy;
Cheap and nasty, over-the-top,
And hinting at the bawdy.
On the stage it looks quite good;
It brightens-up a play.
In daily life it's out of place,
And not for the everyday.
'Two-Dollar' shops are fond of it,
It's great for fancy-dress,
But glitter, when it's over-done
Is nothing but a mess.
Nature is a different case;
Take a look at this sea!
That's how to handle glitter.
That is pure poetry.


Here they go again! Those wretched upright creatures!
Fiddling with our DNA and altering our features!
I was once a mighty wolf, roaming the barren wastes,
But, seemingly, a mighty wolf was not quite to their tastes!
Oh no! They had to bribe us with little bits of food,
And their designs upon us were completely misconstrued!
We thought they were just friendly and we barked and barked with joy.
But no! They merely looked at us and saw a future toy!
Over the years they bred us to be fat or to be thin,
Or to be full of wrinkles with a very wobbly chin.
They bred us to be skinny, or cuddly perhaps,
Breeding us to nestle in fat ladies' ample laps.
They trained us to go sniffing, they trained us to pull sleds,
They sometimes squashed our great big brains inside much smaller heads!
They tell us that they love us, but I never see the proof!
We have become automatons with a humble doggy 'Woof!'
They tie leather straps around our necks and drag us round on leads,
And they carry little plastic bags to attend to our basic needs!
Now, above, see the ultimate foolishness! Indignity? Oh yes!
This dog is a noble creature but no-one would ever guess.
There's not much wolf left in him; look at those mournful eyes!
No doubt he'll be dragged off to a show and win the 'Comical' Prize.
But does the wild still stir in him when the full moon comes around?
Does he remember wolfish ways, poor humiliated hound?



Are you into writing plays
With other manners, other ways?
Are your characters Earls and Dukes?
 Then let them utter the word 'Gadzooks'.
That's a word that sets the stage
For oaths of a very different age.
The fact that they were all blaspheming,
Should have sent the audience screaming.
'God's Hooks!', the nails of the Crucifixion
Have been added to your little fiction.
Be that as it may, it's a useful phrase
For setting the scene in amateur plays.
Melodramatic bits of frippery
Need a bit of bodice-rippery!
So use Gadzookery if you must,
Then launch into frilly-costumed lust.
The gent above spies  a lady's hips
And the word 'Gadzooks' is on his lips!
Are your characters Earls and Dukes?
Then let them utter the word 'Gadzooks'.



Outside the heat is blistering;
In here the air is cool.
There's the gentle ripple-ripple
Of the lovely turquoise pool.
With the sparkle of the sunlight
Twinkling in each direction
We can build a little fantasy
Of weather-wise perfection.
No photo, but I had a heart-stopping experience early yesterday morning! VERY early! It was just before two a.m. and I couldn't sleep, so I got up to blog (as you do!) Imagine my horror when this message, or something very like it, met my eyes.....'Illegal activity! This blog has been removed!' I have no idea what lay behind it! I was asked to send my mobile phone number and then a verification number was sent to it. I clicked on it and all was well. But what if I hadn't got a mobile phone (many of my elderly friends haven't.)! I was so horrified by the whole episode (it would have been the end of my blogging after nearly four years) that I woke Malcolm to share my distress and he had to make me a cup of tea to calm me down! Quite a night!

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Breaking It Off

supplied the prompt


Tomorrow we were getting engaged.....
That was the arrangement.
How can I tell the family
That there's been an ....estrangement?
They're all so fond of Oliver;
And so thrilled about the wedding,
Though I've had sneaking doubts 
About the way we two were heading.
We've known each other since childhood;
Our families intertwine;
He's lived next-door for ever;
His interests have been mine.
It was always taken for granted
That we were 'made for each other',
But, truth to tell, our relationship
Was more like sister and brother.
Then, one day, he kissed me,
It was then I realised
That he felt something more for me.
I was quite surprised!
It all seemed so inevitable,
So safe, so sweet, so calm.
But something happened yesterday
Which sounded the alarm.
I met a young man on the train;
We just exchanged a glance.
But, for the rest of the journey,
I sat in a trance.
This was how I ought to feel!
There was no doubt about it!
This  was what was missing!
And I'd have to live without it!
I've tossed and turned through half the night;
I've come down to make some tea.
And there are the party nibbles
Laid out in front of me!
Tomorrow I'll have to tell Oliver
That I can't be his wife.
Tomorrow I'll face our families.
Tomorrow I'll start my life!


I'm a fan of Dolly Parton!
 Not the singing or the hair
Not even the curving bosom
Or the business-woman flair.
I became a fan one evening
When I chanced to hear her speak
And I found her personality
Delightfully unique.
She was interviewed on radio
And I listened avidly
As she spoke about her childhood
In the wilds of Tennessee.
One of a dozen children,
'Dirt poor' to use her phrase,
She had the guts to rise and shine
In very many ways.
But forget all her accomplishments,
The things that she can do.....
She was laughing at herself
Throughout the lengthy interview!
That's what endeared her to me!
Not accomplishments, as such,
But a wonderful ability.....
A self-deprecating touch.
'I'm just a cartoon, darling!
With my bosom and my hair!'
What a down-to-earth approach,
Refreshing and so rare!
And when she said she'd been married
For more than forty years,
And that to the same husband,
I nearly shouted out 'Three Cheers!'
The world is full of celebrities
Who simply leave me cold.
Dolly! You've got character!
And that's worth more than gold.

Drink With Me


asks us to use the first line from the song sung in
'Les Miserables'


Drink with me to days gone by!
Forget that they were flawed.
Time adds glamour to each scene.
Memory's a two-edged sword.
Gaze at his misty photograph.
Ah! That, indeed, was love.
The smiles, the kisses, the romance...
That's what you're thinking of.
Time has blotted-out the hours
Of waiting for his call;
The fact that he could be so brusque
And make you feel so small.
In deep recesses of your brain
The imperfections cower
Yet you remember living through
A truly shining hour.
One imagines ancient ladies
With only sweet recall,
But I have now discovered
It's not like that at all.
A certain nasty realism 
Has crept into my thoughts.
I have memories of passion
But there are other sorts.
I'll drink with you to days gone by
But I'll only sip because
Although I'd like to fantasise
I remember how it was.


There is something about perspective that is very satisfying,
Something which seems, artistically, so right.
One's eye delights in tracing lines which, eventually, disappear,
Arrowing to nothing, out of sight.
I've heard talk of 'discovery'; how people, long ago,
Didn't understand perspective in the least!
But how could they not notice the diminishing of lines
And not appreciate this visual feast?
Brunelleschi and Alberti  first 'discovered' what is seen
Quite clearly by the un-artistic eye!
I can't believe that no-one else had noticed this before!
That something obvious just passed them by!
I'll never understand this fact, but here is my home town,
With beautiful perspective on display.
The Middle Ages may have been blindfolded for a while,
But perspective is a joy that's here to stay.

Monday, February 27, 2012

The Way to a Girl's Heart

                                                             Bob Adelman
supplied the picture


I'm reasonably intelligent! What was I thinking of?
To see a face on the TV screen and instantly fall in love!
She had that flowery quality, rather like an opening rose,
And oh those sweet delicious lips and that little turned-up nose!
She should have been a model.....she had the qualities;
But no, she was a scientist, with a number of degrees!
To cradle such a bounteous brain inside such a cute little head!
I tossed and turned as I thought of her, all night in my single bed.
(I think of buying a double! She's had that effect on me!
I find myself dreaming of wedding-days and raising a family!)
I could hardly remember her subject, though she'd spoken for quite a while;
I'd been  so besotted by her wide eyes and her smile.
Ah yes! Now I remembered.........the subject wasn't rewarding!
She spoke, as a sociologist, on the problem some have with hoarding.
It seems there are people around the place, who can't throw things away.
They always think they'll need 'whatever' on a later day.
And so they hoard until the house is chock-full of their stuff,
And it gets filthy and smelly, and treating them is tough.
It appears she is writing a treatise on the hoarding malady
And she said 'If this is your problem, get in touch with me!'
I looked around at my monk-like pad, with everything in place.
Rubbish? Unwashed dishes? Hoarding? Not a trace.
So that is why you see me, stocking-up like mad.
A problem with hoarding rubbish is one I've never had.
This is my thirteenth visit to buy-up this and that;
Toilet rolls and chocolates and stuff to feed the cat.
My lounge-room's overflowing, with cartons packets, jars;
I've even bought some caviare and some boxes of cigars!
Tonight I'm going to write to her and this what I'll say....
'I think I have a problem; please visit me today.'



This could be a promising match, for both of you seem to know
Togetherness can be overdone; 'Space' is where to go.
Aquarius can be bossy and Aries can get mad,
But still you’ll love to sit and chat about good times you've had.
The physical chemistry works quite well and so do conversations,
And so you'll learn to rise above the minor altercations.
Aries, full of energy, suggests exciting schemes,
And Aquarius sets the scene in life with imaginary dreams.
Together you’ll be quite a force, a powerful combination,
With one to drive and one to dream in every situation.
Aquarius will be the manager; Aries needs control,
While Aries is the humaniser, adding a touch of soul.
Aquarius' independence can give rise to insecurity
But acceptance is the ingredient reflecting your maturity.
You’ll appreciate each others strengths, that is the vital key,
And you two both acknowledge that vague urge to be free.
In many ways you are alike, and yet you have the sense
To make life a celebration,
Saying 'Vive la Difference!'

Fast Work!



Madge was driving much too fast and a policeman flagged her down,
Sternly fixing her with his eye and a terribly  harrowing frown.
'Is this your car' the policeman said. 'Well, no' Madge then replied;
'I saw it parked outside a house and took it for a ride!'
'Indeed!' said the Officer ' Fancy that! What's that parcel on the seat?
Madge began to cry! It was very clear she was starting to feel the heat.
'I confess! I confess!' she wept and wailed ' Those are human remains!
 I'm afraid I killed my mother-in-law! In there you'll find her brains!'
The Policeman phoned the station....... 'Assistance needed here!
I've apprehended a criminal; a vicious one, it's clear!'
Reinforcements then roared up and Madge was interrogated.
The Officer in Charge soon found that her driving licence stated
That she was the owner of the car! She saw the Policeman wince!
As for the package it was found to be some sausages and mince!
'What the hell are you playing at?' cried the Officer in Charge, bright red,
Accusing the first Policeman of not being right in the head!
And Madge chimed in 'Don't trust him! The next thing that he'll do
Is try to try to tell another lie and say I was speeding too!'



Vegetarians! State your case!
Greenery to the fore!
Here's a dress made up of leaves
Sweeping to the floor.
They look like cabbage leaves to me,
Wonderfully uniform,
And clinging very charmingly
To a most curvaceous form.
So if you're turning over leaves
(And some are good to eat)
Become a vegetarian
And give up eating meat!
On the other hand, if you like a steak
Stick to one, for goodness sake!

Sunday, February 26, 2012

On the Roof

The Wordle

An Aircraft Spotter during the London Blitz of the Second World War

asks us to use the words in the wordle 


The wail of the siren is halted; we wait for the drone of the planes.
Skyward I look for the first signs, above the city's remains.
The map of London has altered, smoke rises from earlier fires;
St Pauls stands firm on the sky-line, but where are the little-boy choirs?
Cement and stone have crumbled; murder will pelt from the sky.
I am looking for an answer and the question is always, 'Why?'
My senses are alerted by a murmur in the air;
The planes are dense and cumbersome, but ....are they over there?
I know that I am reckless and yet I stay entranced.
I am reluctant to leave it, my city which is enhanced
By the glamour of the danger, the heightened majesty,
The excitement and the tension, the feeling of History.
                 Martin Whitlock


Here see Dover Docks at dawn
On a bleak and chilly day
As one of the many vessels
Sets out upon its way.
The docks, the sea, the shipping
All uniformly grey,
Brightened by a pallid sun
And its faint but valiant ray.
The wind-chill doesn't photograph,
But it takes ones breath away.
Not quite the time of year, my friends,
For a seaside holiday!


supplied the first line


A fellow who looked like a hick*
Was really quite smart and quite slick.
When they questioned his brain
He said 'Do that again
And I'll give you a whack with a stick!'

* Description from the Urban Dictionary (for non-Americans)

         A derogatory slang term for lower class whites raised in rural areas, usually within trailer parks or hog farms. Generally used more for Midwesterners than Southerners (see: redneck) General defining characteristics of a hick: Protestant upbringing, usually Baptist; racist and sexist opinions; does not attend collage ; dumber than a post.
That hick Dwayne wanted to take me muddin' in the stripper pits last night.  

(I still don't understand the explanatory sentence!)


I wish that I were practical!
I wish that I could wield
A hammer and a chisel
Or plough a rustic field.
I cannot open tin cans,
I cannot paper walls,
I cannot tat or crochet
Or run-up home-made smalls.
I do not dare get busy
With a gimlet or an axe,
And I often need assistance
When I'm working out my tax!
The essence of my problem
Lies in parentage, I fear,
For neither of my parents
Were practical, that's clear.
But I've found there's always someone
To do these things for me,
All I need to bleat is 'Help!'
And, with alacrity,
Practical people swarm around
To show me what is what
Proving they are everything
That I, poor thing, am not.
So my job in life is obvious!
Maybe I can't build shelves,
But I do make other people
Feel darned good about themselves.
When they're comparing themselves with me
They're certain of their worth.
Maybe that's why the cack-handed
Are the true salt of the earth.


                                        Brenda Bryant



They urged me to be delicate, for that befits the rose.
Roses are quaint and lady-like, as everybody knows.
They hoped I'd have some pallor to reflect a lady's cheek,
The faintest rosy blush of pink was all they seemed to seek.
'We want you to be pretty and feminine and gentle.
We want you to evoke the thoughts that are sweetly sentimental.'
But when I blossomed I observed blue sky and golden sun!
Everything was gaudy! I wanted to have fun!
'Bring me Nature's paint-pot!' I shouted out with glee.
'Paint me scarlet, touched with gold! I want everyone to see
That I'm no prissy little flower, hiding behind a fan!
I'm an extrovert at heart, not some also-ran!'
So here I am, splendiferous! I'm taking my rightful place
Among the sunflowers of the world with a smile on my painted face!


The city of Perth in Australia is the world's remotest city.
And, as it's well-worth visiting, that fact is rather a pity.
It's the only city to be seen from Space in absolute isolation;
All the others merge their lights and become one destination,
But the lights of Perth, in a sea of black, shine out like a star,
Because all other cities are away so very far.
This is the great Swan River, flowing on into the sea.
And there we stopped to meet a friend and share a cup of tea.

Shock! Horror!

supplied the illustration for this VERY short story


Who's that creature coming in the door?
Never seen a thing like that before!
Is it a monster, do you think?
Unbelievable! Its nose is PINK!!
(140 characters)


I do admire lateral thinking!
Thinking 'outside the box'!
Giving the unsuspecting
Giggles and, maybe, shocks!
Skin, as we know, gets blotchy,
There are pimples and polka-dots!
But stripes are something novel;
More original than spots!
This cover really intrigues me!
The girl is in dire straits.
And, clearly, the situation
Is something that she hates!
There must be an element of magic.
Does it involve the cup?
She looks dubious about the contents;
But will she drink it up?
The book must be written for children;
Adults are such a bore;
But any childish reader
Must wonder what's in store.
A design that's so intriguing
Has passed the book-cover test;
We long to take a peep inside.
Does the story pass the test?

Saturday, February 25, 2012

The Listeners


We are asked to take a famous first line and run with it.
I chose the first line of
'The Listeners' by Walter de la Mare


'Is there anybody there?' asked the Traveller, knocking at the moonlit door.
'I can hear  somebody moving, deep in the house, for sure.
I'll rattle my tin a bit louder; I'll also raise my voice.
Then you'll have to give me an answer, because you'll have no choice.
The neighbours will surely hear me, they'll see what's going on.
All of them gave donations. I said 'thank you' and then was gone.
In all of Ridgeway Avenue, you haven't donated a cent!
And I know you're in there, hiding! I'm determined you'll repent.
The evening's come, with the moonlight, but I still stand my ground.
You are people of substance.....lots of money, I'll be bound.
I'm collecting for a threatened species......a very worthy cause.
I bet when it's December you say 'Humbug' to Santa Claus!
Hear me! Rattle, rattle! And my watch says half past three!
I'm very fond of lizards! You wont get away from me.
Ah! There you are.......a dollar! Paltry! I might have known!
It's a very tiring business, getting blood out of a stone!

Kevin Rudd and Julia Gillard

(Written in response to the present Australian political shambles.)

I'm worried about Democracy.
It equates with popularity.
No-one wants a cruel dictator,
But the lowest common denominator
Is reached when people, just like me,
Vote on the surface things they see.
So Kevin was great on a morning show;
That's about all the people know.
So Julia lacks some feminine charms;
That's put other women up in arms.
But Kevin's a house-devil, so they say,
While Julia's looks are by the way.
Phrases such as 'stab in the back'
And 'faceless men' keep us on track.
The catch-cry and 'what's in it for me?'
Are all part of Democracy.
What proportion of populations
Discuss important situations?
In a world of conflict, hunger, fear
'Popularity' is what we hear.
So what about 'policy', what about 'grit',
What about that old 'statesman' bit?
Our Labor Party will not survive,
And then 'that Tony' will arrive.
Then 'that Malcolm' will raise his head,
Popular because he's so well-bred.
We have the vote, we have our rights
But all these these silly playground fights
Are making me a 'polly' hater.
Oh for a great benign dictator!
I have heard that there's a strong move against democracy in Portugal!




There's nothing like a bargain
To make the bright eyes shine!
Whatever they have in their pretty pink bags,
I bet it's pretty fine.
I've had a peek, so I know what's there,
And I'll keep it in mind,
For one day soon I'll have a chance
Of being a bit unkind!
They'll waltz into a meeting
In a very cut-price dress,
And everyone will admire them;
They're certain to impress.
And Pam will say 'Oh, this little number
I bought in Gay Paree;
A handsome lover I had at the time
Said how well it suited me.'
And Bev will chime in 'Well, mine was made
By the Queen's couturier .
We became firm friends at the theatre,
When watching a famous play.'
Now I shall know they're untruthful,
But I won't call a cop.
I'll merely shout 'They got them
From the $22 Shop!'
I wrote this one almost exactly a year ago. And I still have my doubts!


I write as one who knows nothing;
Let's make that clear at the start.
I've woken to news from Egypt
That, at first, delights my heart.
The singing, the cheering, flag-waving,
Reveal such wild emotion,
But does anyone in that wild throng
Have even the slightest notion
As to how to run a country?
Will even they split into factions?
Will the jostling soon begin,
The actions and reactions?
'Love of Power' will raise its head again
In another different guise;
Religion or the Military!
Which one is on the rise?
'The Power of Love'...... an emotive phrase:
I prefer 'Goodwill'.
Let's hope Egypt can muddle-through
Once the clamour of joy falls still.

Friday, February 24, 2012

Mourning Has Broken

supplied the book-cover

Would this blurb make you want to read this book?

Ellersley Rumpkin F.R.C.S.T.Q.

Suspicions are aroused at the funeral.
' But Cedric always hated  
His Uncle Beau!'
This from Aunt Millie.
You will devour chapter after chapter
Of this enthralling tale!
Cedric's grief is real,
But it is not for Uncle Beau.
It is for lost opportunities.
What ties the two men together
In a bond broken only by death?
Is this a case of murder?
Is Cedric both perpetrator
And grief-stricken nephew?
And what of Gretchen,
Beau's widow?
What does the coffin contain
Other than Beau's remains?
This intriguing tale
Family friction,
Illicit love,
A surprisingly macabre crime!
(Not forgetting The Scandal!)
The Coffin-Makers' Quarterly: Note how poorly this coffin is made! Where are the brass handles? Start studying for our on-line coffin-makers' diploma. Contact us at 'cwiccoffs @  for further details. The Editor.



A splash of red on a blue, blue day,
A red-hot colour, as if to say
'The blue of the sky and the blue of the sea
Can't hold a candle to the red of me!'


asks us for an unusual view of nature


The way life is.
Sweet-smelling and langorous.
But, sometimes,
There it is again!
My brown, shiny, crisp skin
Oh the agony of it!
I feel the need to push.
Is this birth?
I must push up, up, up.
 I cannot prevent it.
Something green and white,
From me!
A hard object in my path.
I have new strength.
I can tilt it,
Work my way around it.
Oh now more pain!
Growths pushing downward.
 Yet strong.
Yes, I am strong!
I am new life.
So onward and upward!
Downward too!
Into sweetness.
Delicious brown soil,
Full of goodness.
Oh the brightness!
The dazzle
The agony of air.
I am gasping,
I am frail,
 I am delirious
With growth!
I suddenly realise
I am going to be
A sunflower!


I'm just about to dazzle you!
Sizzle you!
Frazzle you!
Just about to blind you with my glorious light!
In a second I'll be glimmering!
How lucky you could catch me looking calm and white!




Joy portrays an elegant pose,
Paying homage to 'the hat',
Gazing into the distance;
What is she looking at?
Surely she's at the races,
Watching the speeding steeds.
And an equally elegant shadow
Is what every lady needs.


Surely you can hear them,
The footsteps on the stair!
The clattering, terrified footsteps,
The danger lurking there.
The looming figure behind him,
The endless flights below,
The breathing, sharp and rasping,
The speed that is oh so slow.
The eyes fixed on the glimmer,
The little spot of light.
The clattering of footsteps;
The eternity of flight.
The round and round of descending,
The feet that slip and slide.
The nakedness of discovery,
With nowhere left to hide.
Round again and round and round,
And yet again round and round,
And, echoing through the building,
That dreadful clattering sound.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Cancel Elastic Labour!

asks us to use the three words
'cancel elastic labour'


'Cancel Elastic Labour!'
The cry is on the streets.
The placards are waved above the heads
Of protesters that one meets.
The year is 1940,
And I remember it well,
When elastic powered aeroplanes
Were the very best thing to sell.
I speak now of toy aeroplanes,
Beloved of little boys,
And the very favourite favourite
Of all their precious toys.
One took hold of the propeller
Joined to an elastic band,
And turned and turned and turned it
In one's eager little hand.

When the elastic was twisted
As taut as it would go,
One merely let-fly, literally,
And watched out from below
As the aeroplane looped and circled
Up in the air above.
It really was a little toy
That any child could love.
When it landed with a thump,
Not very far away,
One flew it again and again and again!
One could go on all day.
But technology was waiting
Not far off, in the wings.
(Please excuse this little pun;
I've a weakness for such things.)
The Mechanical Bit-Parts Factory,
Wanted the upper-hand.
The workers there thought cogs and things
Were infinitely more grand
Than little bits of elastic!
They decided on some action.
They took to the streets waving placards
In the hope of satisfaction.
It saddens me to tell you,
That Bit-Parts won the day.
Elastic powered aeroplanes
Just were not here to stay.
The little boys cried 'Yippee!'
Give us remote controls!
Having the latest gadgetry
Is among our favourite goals!'
And now they twiddle with their thumbs
And play computer games,
And everything works with a button
Or shoots out real live flames.
It's a little footnote to history;
A loss among many a gain......
The demise of that thrilling little toy,
The elastic-driven plane.


It should be so relaxing
Gazing up at the sky;
Nothing really taxing,
And so easy on the eye.
But I'm beneath a pergola,
Of a plain criss-cross design,
And my brain is quite insistent
That things should be in line.
One way straight, one way across;
It's hardly rocket science.
But my brain rejects the diagonals,
There's simply no compliance.
Instead of a peaceful afternoon,
I'm squinting the day away.
I think I'll go indoors and rest....
Give my eyes a holiday!
The summer arrived today! About a week before Autumn starts!!!!! Although we've been delighted to have had such sensible temperatures this year, the constant grey skies and drenching rain have irritated everyone. Luckily for us, March and April are always our most pleasant months so we have nice weather to look forward to....we hope.

Be that as it may, the weather today could not have been better for our visit to the Lake. Malcolm belongs to an Ex-Servicemen's Club and we went to Rathmines, on Lake Macquarie, to tour the sea-plane base from the Second World War. The lake is always a joy and the drive there, through unusually lush countryside (thanks to the rain) was most enjoyable. The Allied Forces were based at Rathmines throughout the War. The airmen must have felt they'd landed the greatest location, although there were a lot of bombing missions, particularly after Darwin was bombed.
Here, Malcolm and our friend, Dave, stroll by the water.
A stained-glass window.
An old shot of the Air Base
And of a sea-plane taking-off'.
Rather lovely words if one ignores the spelling!
Me in the Remembrance Garden. (It's a sunshade, not an umbrella!)
And with others.
A photo that reminded me of part of my lost youth. Margaret will understand.
 And a photo for Joy Hughes, to show her that Merewether Lady Bowlers knock spots off the Rathmines'  ones!



(Pronounced 'Karindigh' with the emphasis on the second syllable.)

Set among the gentle hills of inland New South Wales,
And far away from all the world's alarms,
The little town of Quirindi is a quiet sort of place,
Never boasting of its very many charms.
I would have passed it by, I know, except for family ties,
Which caused me to enjoy it now and then.
My daughter has since moved from there and so I don't expect
That I'll ever journey up that way again.
But I still recall the golden hills that shone there in the drought,
The cattle lowing in the cattle sheds,
The horses running up to greet a walker passing by,
And, in Spring, the many glowing flower-beds.
When city life gets noisesome  and I long for peace and calm,
And my nerves feel that they're just about to fray,
I fantasise I'll pack my bags and get on the next train
To that haven in the hills, Quirindi way.


(An Acrostic)

Oceans surround it! Pounding, pounding!
Under our feet are treasures astounding!
Riches are everywhere! Life unbounding!
Let us not waste
And ruin in haste
Nature's largesse!
Do more with less!

Wednesday, February 22, 2012


asks us to try a Trolaan!

Not easy! The repetitive nature of the form is obvious from the colouration


Trolaan! There's something new to try,
Tempting me today
To write a poem, me oh my,
This very special way.

Repeating letters? Cogitate.
Rules must be adhered to.
Results may not be all that great
Reactions? Pretty weird, too!

Every time I see a meme
Even if it's night
Excitement grips me from the theme,
Encouraging me to write.

Various poetic forms
Vie for my attention;
Very homely are the norms
Vastly too dull to mention.
And if I had another verse
( A thing I'm not allowed)
Acclamation of my Trolaan
At last would make me proud!


Janine had been out with her friends
Creeping home in the dark of the night.
She tiptoed upstairs to her room
And there got a terrible fright!
Her husband was snoozing away;
She could see his two feet sticking out.
But two other feet showed themselves ;
The feet of a lady, no doubt!
While Janine had been out with her friends,
The lady now slumbering there
Had crept up the stairs to her bed!
She'd uncovered a flagrant affair!
A baseball bat lay close at hand;
A weapon that now could be used.
She whacked and she whacked and she whacked
She bludgeoned the sleeping accused.
Exhausted she staggered away;
In the spare-room she hoped for some rest.
She heard howls from the couple she'd beaten;
A retreat seemed to be for the best.
Imagine her shock and surprise
When she reached out and switched on the light.
Her husband said 'Your Mum and Dad
Are staying with us for the night'!

Flies of Fancy


Some people see two flies and see two flies!
Some people see two flies and fantasize!
A flight of fancy! Just a bit of fun!.
Two flies on the Riviera in the sun!


    "I told you Maudie Randall was a scream!
I asked you round to meet her for yourself.
She acts just like the cat that's got the cream,
But it's certain that she'll end up on the shelf!
I told you that she wears the oddest clothes!
That tippet is so out-of-date my dear!
Can you see that little pimple on her nose?
They say her father is an engineer!
Yes! 'In trade'. 'New money'! Think of that!
I felt some pity when I met her first.
But, Ruby, just look how she wears her hat!
And she drinks her tea as though she has a thirst!
(Don't giggle in your cup! It isn't nice.
Though I can scarcely stop a little smirk!)
I've met her awful parents once or twice;
It must be dreadful when one has to work.
She never had a Nanny, so they say!
Now that's a really horrible admission!
It isn't too surprising that today
She looks in such a lower-class condition!
I only asked her round so you could see
How there are people different from us two.
I'll never ask her here again for tea!
I'll never even say a 'How'd'ye do!'
But I thought that we could have a bit of fun,
 Drawing her out and laughing in our tea.
After all, dear Ruby, when all's said and done,
Not everyone can be like you and me."