A Small Pleasure

Early morning 

MY WORLD

A SMALL PLEASURE

Just view from out my window;

Just a small suburban plot.

And an owner of a green thumb

I most certainly am not.

But I love my little garden

With its comfortable seats

Even if I never manage

Any horticultural feats.

Now it's spring, the plants are sprouting

Without any help from me;

Most are grown from others' flowerings,

(Little acts of larceny.)

You may dream of rolling acres,

Lawns that spread from here to there,

Giant trees that wave their branches

High into the friendly air.

 But my garden is so handy.....

Simply step outside the door

With a steaming cup of coffee!

No-one could ask for more.

*

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                                           Gerald Gee

THE GREAT LOTTERY

Variegated size and tint;

Similarities? A hint.

The DNA wheel spins around;

In for a penny, in for a pound!

What we land on goodness knows!

Granny's ears or Uncle's nose.

Auntie Annie's double chin

And her liking for pink gin.

A distant cousin's high-pitched laugh;

Her neck resembling a giraffe.

Sometimes, maybe, we inherit

A little something with some merit:

A  rosebud mouth like Auntie Ann's

Or a head of hair like Uncle Dan's.

The scientists head in the direction

Of creating babies of perfection.

They'll tweak the egg or tweak the sperm

( The thought of it just makes me squirm)

And out will pop this perfect creature,

Glorious in every feature.

How boring! How devoid of charm!

I view the future with alarm!

View the row of folk above

To see what I am speaking of.

Not one of them is without a flaw!

They drew wrong numbers in life's draw.

But when I see people such as these

I long to give them all a SQUEEEEEEZE!

*

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PS

We have just given a presentation of 'Cindy Eller' at a Maitland church. We were treated right royally with a tasty morning tea and a handsome gift and we all enjoyed ourselves. We had to make one or two alterations at the last minute as our pianist is unwell and our 'Prince' had sudden family problems. Such is the way of the world with our group! But Yvonne, fresh from a knee replacement (!) and Betty (who had to drag herself away from the arms of a lover!!!!!) filled in beautifully and I managed to be a Fairy Queen who also acted as Reader, so we got there!It all adds to life's rich tapestry!Afterwards we had a light lunch at one of our favourite restaurants at the Heritage Gardens.

The Chorus Line!

Wonderful facial expressions all round.

A rather elderly Fairy Queen!

Not a good shot but a delightful pose.

This is what True Love looks like . (One always tends to catch flies when this happens.)

This is my favourite shot.

And here is poor Yvonne, lurking in the background working the music. 

Note the Fairy Tale stage decorations arranged especially for us.

The Waterfront

THE WATERFRONT

Our waterfront pays homage, slightly
To historic days of yore.
These modern buildings boast a likeness
To buildings that were there before.
Maybe the paint, like sugared-almonds,
Was not in vogue in days gone by,
But see how pleasantly the colours
Are enhanced by the bright blue sky!
Only the lookout tower looks modern,
With its head up in the air
But the waterfront is spacious......
There is lots of room to share.
Modern life and other centuries

Jostle for space here by the sea,

Which goes to show we get it right

When we doff a cap to history.

*

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THRILLING!

A thrill has an element of danger.

A thrill has an element of strife.

It's something outside the ordinary realm

Of the everyday ho-hum life.

It is something which passes in a moment,

Unlike joy or pleasure;

It is something which positively shouts 'Excess!'

Because it is hard to measure.

Like a flash of lightning running through one,

Or a  stab of overwhelming terror,

It involves every fibre of ones body

And it screams 'No room for error!'

Base jumpers feel it as they're standing

On the edge of a towering cliff,

As they edge towards their take-off

And their minds whisper 'What if?'

Young girls feel it on blind dates,

That mixture of excitement and dread.;

Young men feel it in their vehicles

When the highway stretches ahead. 

Death is always lurking when life's thrilling,

One's involved in something that can kill.

Me, I like my pleasures less exciting;

Give me ho-hum rather than thrill.

*

Spring Market

MY WORLD
http://showyourworld.blogspot.com/


SPRING MARKET

Spring, the sweet Spring

Is the year's pleasant king'!

Oh dear! Somebody said that before!

Oh well, he was right!'

When it's sunny and bright

The phrase has a definite ring!

*

And say, what great fun it's

Pursuing the punnets

To make sure that the garden's ablaze!

Be sure you can collar

Some blooms for a dollar

And prepare for some colourful days.

*

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A FINE EXAMPLE!

Ben said 'A place for everything
And everything in it's place'!
How did the old chap realise
My drawers are a disgrace?
His words have echoed in my ears
Each day, more or less;
Always in my mother's voice;
Yet I'm always in a mess.
But deep inside this muddler
Is a person who is neat.
And even in my waning years
I can't admit defeat.
I buy big boxes from the store;
This time I'll organise!
This time I'll follow Ben's advice;
There will be no compromise.
But then I forget to label them,
So I scrabble deep within
To find an item I've mislaid!
I simply cannot win!
Sometimes I tip the boxful out
Then shove it back again.
I really will be neat next time.
But when is next time? When?
But I wonder if old Benjamin
Was such a neatness freak.
If I could find his chest-of-drawers
I'd like to take a peek.
I bet they were an awful mess,
If only we could see.
Maybe he wasn't as honest
As little old scruffy me!
Have a look at my picture!
See 'stuff' strewn on the floor!
Goodness gracious Benjamin!
That's what boxes are for!
So now I'm going to rustle up
A homily myself.....
'Don't believe Ben Franklin
Till you've checked-out every shelf!'
*

Marching Koalas

                                      Press Photograph

MY WORLD

http://showyourworld.blogspot.com/2010/09/my-world-tuesday-season-2-episode-48_06.html

MARCHING KOALAS

This is the Great Wall of China! Not 'My World' at all!

But it's here our Marching Koalas are standing proud and  tall.

Not 'My world' but of 'My World'  for I was in at the start,

And, in a very tiny way, my family's played a part.

*

When I was still a teacher a message was sent around;

'If you wish to form a school band the money can be found'

This came from the Government, it was offering instruments,

And having our school in the scheme really made a lot of sense.

But who could play an instrument and who could form the band?

'Raise your hand' was requested! And nobody raised a hand!

Then Geat, a member of the staff, spoke up, 'Well, I admit

I played the trumpet in my youth.' So everyone said 'You're it!'

*

And, from those slim beginnings, the local school band grew,

Though it sounded squeaky at the start, that's absolutely true!

Soon it grew beyond the confines of the school in which it started;

Both my children played instruments though Rebecca was half-hearted.

Greg was enthusiastic; he plays saxaphone today;

And he is really happy when he gets a chance to play.

*

As for the Marching Koalas, they've marched the world around.

And with many accolades their prowess has been crowned.

Here they are seen in China, but they've been to the U.S.A.

And many other folk world-wide have heard the Koalas play.

They say 'From little things big things grow'  and without a doubt that's true.

Maybe one day they'll march your way.

Say 'Hi!' to them when they do!

*

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A LENGTHY RECOVERY

Two men sat side-by-side in a Doctor's Waiting Room;

Both looked rather worried, each face reflecting gloom.

'What's your problem, then, old chap?' Percival whispered low.

'I've got a bunion' said Clarence. 'It seems to grow and grow.'

'I'm having a circumcision' said Percival, in his ear.

And Clarence replied ' I had one at birth

And I couldn't walk for a year!'

*

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P.S.

Yesterday we performed 'Jewelled Jeopardy' once again. We've nearly completed the 'run' of this play as we've done it for about ten clubs and we're ready to move on to something new. But we're still having fun. Note the red rose in my hair! Very seductive!.

On Picnic Patrol

MY WORLD

ON PICNIC PATROL!

Triangularly regimented, see them in a line,

Waiting for better weather, when the sun is sure to shine.

Bar Beach is 'the beach next-door', a pleasant stroll away,

Great for a Sunday pastime, while the weather's cool and grey.

But, come the Summer weather, everyone will be competing

For the pleasure of a picnic meal on the shaded seating.

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GENDER GEOGRAPHY!

I wonder whether the chart above reflects reality.
I must say, thinking it over, that I'm inclined to agree.
The prison population certainly bears this out;
The prisons are over-run with men, of that there is no doubt.
And Ignoramuses abound among the men I know!
Pass some drunk men in the street and you will find it's so.
And, certainly, nearly all the Saints have been well-and-truly male;
The female ones, by comparison, seem lower down the scale.
As for Genius, undoubtedly the men can claim the most.
Nearly all the names are masculine; no wonder that they boast.
So the males inhabit the high ground, but they also grovel low.
Women are more average; this graphic tells us so.
But let us not feel too ashamed even though this fact is real;
It's the women of the world, my dears, who keep life on an even keel.
*

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P.S.

Yesterday we traveled down to Sydney to a symphony concert at the Opera House. It was a bright sunny day and  the music of Strauss, Stravinsky and Elgar was enjoyed by all, as was the sumptuous lunch afterwards. The train journey was a little tedious, though, even though it was relieved by chat!

Keep Out!

Dudley N.S.W.

MY WORLD

KEEP OUT!

The sign above just seems to shout

'Private Property! Keep Out!'

Athough there are other ways to reach

The sea, the pools, the waves, the beach,

It still seems a little feudal;

We are mongrels to their poodle!

They will have no truck with us....

Folk who've come there on the bus!

Jesus once announced, I'm sure,

'They are always with us'; he meant The Poor.

And so it will be, I know, for ever;

Some will be stupid and some clever;

Some will be rich, some impecunious

(And the latter type is multitudinous!)

Communism hoped to be

A way to human equalty

But ask an impoverished Muscovite

If the system worked alright!

Some people will always have the lot;

The house built in the premier spot.

And they will always erect a sign

Saying 'Keep Out! What's mine is mine!

Thank goodness we're allowed to say

'I'll reach the beach by another way'.

*

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DEBACLE!

The Saga of a Disappointing Excursion!

Our excursion;

A diversion.

Up at five,

Half alive.

'On your mark!'

In the dark.

Chilly breeze

Round the knees.

On the train.

What a pain.

Concert choice

Choral voice.

Straining throats,

Discord notes!

Not much heart

All too smart.

Off to cruise.

Awful news.

Not booked in!

Couldn't win!

Lunch in caff

Rather 'naff'.

Hours on train

Home again.

Straight to bed

Feeling dead.

Hear us say

'What a day!'

*

Newcastle's Famous Tram

NEWCASTLE'S FAMOUS TRAM!

Famous locally, that is! There is no world-wide fame

But that great word 'famous' is included in the name!

Its claim to fame is simply that it isn't a tram you see!

It's simply a bus in fancy dress, deceiving the peasantry!

When visitors come to our fair town they like to book a ride

Not realising they're on a bus until they get inside!

Newcastle was once a tram-town, but the old trams bit the dust

And now we ride on buses, simply because we must.

The tram-lines are still visible as we travel on certain roads,

Reminding us of the days gone by and departed human loads.

Only the 'Famous Tram' is found, with sightseers galore.

This tram that isn't a tram lives on while the real ones are no more.

*

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GENDER GEOGRAPHY!

I wonder whether the chart above reflects reality.

I must say, thinking it over, that I'm inclined to agree.

The prison population certainly bears this out;

The prisons are over-run with men, of that there is no doubt.

And Ignoramuses abound among the men I know!

Pass some drunk men in the street and you will find it's so.

And, certainly, nearly all the Saints have been well-and-truly male;

The female ones, by comparison, seem lower down the scale.

As for Genius, undoubtedly the men can claim the most.

Nearly all the names are masculine; no wonder that they boast.

So the males inhabit the high ground, but they also grovel low.

Women are more average; this graphic tells us so.

But let us not feel too ashamed even though this fact is real;

It's the women of the world, my dears, who keep life on an even keel.

*

A Different View

MY WORLD

http://showyourworld.blogspot.com/
A DIFFERENT VIEW

Not your regular view and not your regular sky!

Australians see their skies as ever-blue!

And the Opera House is very often looming rather large

With ships out in the harbour passing-by.

But here's a different aspect, showing clouds portending rain,

And an Opera House all stunted and deformed.

It shows my friend, Rob, and family, doing 'the tourist bit',

Slipping in a shot before it stormed!

*
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Some of you will understand  this poem! If you do, don't give your age away!

A BEE IN MY BONNET!

Do you recall the Beehive? No, not the one with bees?

But the 1960s hair-do, requiring a lot of 'tease'!

My hair was always whispy and body-less and fine,

But Beehives were the fashion so, of course, I made it mine!

But the struggle and the anguish simply can't be overstated!

The visits to the salon which were frequent and much-hated;

The sitting in the chair as pretty hairdressers tut-tutted,

And their remarks, so critical, which made me feel quite gutted.

'If Modom had more hair' they'd say, 'We'd be able to produce

Something elegant and smart, but, in your case, what's the use?'

'I must look like my friends!' I'd cry 'A poor workman blames his tools!

Modom wants a Beehive! Supply it! Them's the rules!

The customer is always right! So go ahead! Beehive me!

Be creative! Something grand is what you must contrive me!'

And so they duly went ahead, with shampoo, and with rinse,

And a lot of other 'condiments' I haven't noticed since!

Once washed, my little bit of hair lay limply on my head,

Until the wretched rollers made it wide and high instead.

Then came the awful dryer, and a scalp all burning hot,

But a Beehive would be my reward so I didn't mind a jot.

Back-combing! Is it done these days? It's a wonder we survived it!

But hair demanded torture as the hairdresser Beehived it!

The hair was, first, teased one way, and then, as Modom cursed,

The whole revolting process was immediately reversed.

Now all the in-between hair was tangled, knotted, matted,

And the net-result was Modom looking very woolly-hatted!

Now the clever part! A few stray strands, left longer and still pliable,

Were spread out over all the mess and made to look reliable.

Indeed, when it was smoothed and glossed, it really looked a treat,

Like some enormous hairy egg, quite good enough to eat.

Now for the spray and do not think I'm talking of a puff.

Great streams of it for evermore it seemed were not enough!

At last came the displaying, with triumphant shouts of glee,

And the most excited person there was Beehived little me!

I was modern, I was 'with it',( though we didn't use that phrase.)

I paid the pretty hairdresser and heaped great songs of praise.

I peered then, at the outside world, was it a little wet?

If so, I'd need the plastic bonnet one dared not forget!

I'd hurry home before the nasty elements could play

Fast and loose with my great hair, and ruin my whole day.

There followed then a week of care, of lying stiff in bed,

Making sure that nothing spoilt the glory on my head!

( I didn't need a 'headache', my hair had other uses;

I didn't need to parrot any other old excuses!)

Of course, I didn't wash it! Just the lightest surface brush,

And a patting into place of all the bits that I might crush.

But, inevitably, bits began to flop and droop and sag!

By the ending of the week I was a hide-in-the-cupboard hag!

Come Saturday I'd have to go through all the whole routine,

So that I could strut about as the local Beehive Queen!

Was ever there a torture so designed to lay us low?

Did everybody suffer as I did I want to know!

My hair today is flat and fine, and 'doing its own thing'.

It doesn't mind a rainy day or the breezes battering.

I'm so delighted it's no more, that silly fashion craze!

Whoever coined lying words and said

THE GOOD OLD DAYS?

Pancakes Anyone?

                                              Brenda Bryant

MY WORLD TUESDAY
http://showyourworld.blogspot.com/

PANCAKES ANYONE?

Australia's flat as a pancake, as everybody knows!

Most of it is desert where almost nothing grows,

But statistics are deceiving! If one lives around the coast,

Steep, steep hills are features that one tends to notice most!

This view was shot by me last week quite near my grandson's school,

An area I don't visit much, not as a general rule.

The hill fell away beneath me, the river stretched-out below,

And beyond the river lay the sea, putting-on its usual show.

Then came the Stockton sand-hills where we 'grow' Hawaii's sand,

And then came some little mountains, delightful although not grand.

And all was seen from the top of a hill, that was simply high enough

To cause an elderly Grandmother to slow down a bit and puff!

This is my hometown, Newcastle, a jewel of New South Wales,

So if you just think 'pancakes' they've been feeding you fairy tales!

*

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SITTING DUCK
(An Acrostic)

See the unprotected duck sitting on its nest.

It's easier to hit a duck when it is at rest.

The ducks all flying in the sky are harder, far, to hit.

The hunter likes to aim his gun at the ducks who choose to sit.

It's just the same with charlatans in finance or the law.
None of them aim at canny folk, though they're quick on the draw.
Get clued-up on your legal rights, then you will be quite sure
*
Dirty deeds will not be done as they've been done before!
Useless to quack of ignorance when you've been duly fleeced!
Caution should be your by-word at the very least!
Know your enemy my friend, then, with a bit of luck,
You won't end up dead on your nest, a poor little sitting duck!

*

If Only!

MY WORLD


IF ONLY!

It would be nice to say this view

Is one that I'm accustomed to.

It would be nice if my front door

Led straight out to the sandy shore

I'd love to sip my cup of tea

On this veranda blissfully,

And quickly run down to the beach

Lying within such easy reach!

Alas! My house lies three streets back!

And water-views I surely lack.

Still, I get by very well....

'The Beaches' is a great hotel.

*

More morning views here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/07/dish-of-morning.html

Mountain Mist

                                                                            Brenda Bryant

MY WORLD

MOUNTAIN MIST

We admit we have no mountains, well, not ones that pierce the sky,

For what we're inclined to call mountains aren't quite that.

They're really very climbable; they don't go up too high.

In fact the Swiss might speak of them as 'flat'.

Ours is the oldest land-mass in the history of the earth;

Our mountains wore away long, long ago.

And our use of the word 'mountain' might be greeted with much mirth.

As our 'highlands' really are a truer 'low'.

But, in the Hunter Valley, where the little 'mountains' rise,

They give us quite an Alpine point of view,

As they give us shade and shelter and a picture for our eyes,

And they pierce our glorious great and shining blue.

*

More Australian mountain scenery here:

http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2009/04/thats-my-worlddorrigo.html

My World

My World