Bushfire downunder

Blue skies say little
Every stone hot to touch
Whole body itchy

North wind blows hotly
There's a smoky dusty smell
Bush fires are close by

Trees stir weeping leaves
They too fear the nearing fire
But say not a word

Our stock is nervous
I search the sky for rain clouds
But see no respite

Smoke cloud approaches
I start spraying the main house
The horses panic

Fire crackles far off
All vessels filled with water
Jim Brough's place alight

Come on you rain clouds
Just where in the name are you?
My veins throb with fear

It is hard to see much
At least the homestead is safe
The first drops now fall

I settle the stock
At last the rain's bleeding down 
From the wounded sky

Image found at www.whatsonxiamen.com


Note: Wildfires are called Bushfires in Australia. Native Eucalypyt (Gum) trees can often recover from being burnt and will sprout new growth after a few weeks although coniferous and deciduous rarely do. 

This sweet lubricant

Now some might say that I was errant
I had this need for drinks so piquant
Accompanied by music vibrant
My behavior became so rampant
I was a fully paid up Bacchant
Always lured by strong spirits fragrant
Booze for me was a great assistant
Until my wife became so indignant
I had to shun this sweet lubricant
Give up my ways so exuberant
Or I would become a mendicant
Knowing I had become repugnant

Image found at www.gettyimages.com

Home late from work

I got home late from work tired and worn out from a bad day at the office trying to sort out the mistakes of others.

The meal was ready for me and we ate together as if she had guessed what time I would arrive.

She insisted I sit down as she did the dishes as I relaxed in my chair almost ready for bed when she called out "Could you take the trash out dear, they coming tomorrow."

I did as I was told and saw the beautiful starry sky of the still dark placid evening and realized how much I had been blessed.

I heard an owl hoot and the rustle of other creatures of the night as I made my way back inside.

With the dishwasher stacked and the lights turned low my wife was now waiting for me in bed for our after dinner treat, so how could I refuse?

Image found at www.astronomynerd.tumblr.com

Being herself

There she is again
Just what is it about this
Nondescript girl

Aren't short skirts out now
And what's she done with her hair
She is so quirky

Placidly smiling
She has some tatts on her neck
Doc Martin's on feet

Where is my little girl
Who slept snuggled in my arms
When she was but two

Memories in the cafe

Here was I drinking my coffee
Lonely old man stirring his cup
When for some reason I glanced up
A stunning face in front of me

Her animated expression
Concentrating on her work in hand
Time slipped by like grains of sand
Recalling one now an illusion

Her lips were like sweet cherries kissed
Her hair as soft as falling rain
Her eyes were those that caused me pain
When from her side I was dismissed

It isn't her of course that is true
But my many memories are recalled
When my heart was so cruelly mauled
Seeing this sweet girl now in my view

Not daughter yet, perhaps grandchild
I leave my cup I did not drink

She waves goodbye as off I slink
How can old love drive one so wild?

I hadn't walked but twenty paces
When I was tapped on the shoulder
There she was now my hat's holder
I was glad, it showed in our faces

I've had my life and so will she
For this young thing I've been gifted
Don't question past but be uplifted
For puppets we are don't you see?

Image found at www.textbooks.wmsd.org

Baddies wearing black

Teenage mania
Those B grade movie westerns
Gunslingers and tarts

Baddies wearing black
Sheriff chewing tobacco
Spit-wad in street's dust

Our clean cut hero
In love with girl in whorehouse
Seen on balcony

Town out of control
Stranger locked in oubliette
Innocent of course

Melon shaped dumb clown
Now fumbles to help town out
Dies in the attempt

Fast chase on horseback
Indian brave helps hero
Dies in touching scene

Rattlesnake now shows
But is shot from fifty yardsl
Hero now ambushed

Fierce gunfight now ensues
Six baddies now all shot dead
Hero has small flesh wound

Smites evil in this town
Wakes sleeping whore with a kiss
Vanilla sky ends

Image found at www.bluntobjectstheatre.com

Laughing together

Have I got the ability
To leave the demons behind?
And set off full tank, top gear
On the highway down the lanes
Sell my past to start again
Get back to the elements
Where trees whisper their secrets
Birds sing their songs on the hour
Just lie on the ground laughing
Hugging, kissing each other
With just you as my buddy
Well that is my theory
I just can't be without you

Image found at www.123rf.com

Your cute face

Salamanca Markets, Hobart, Tasmania

When walking through the market place
Loud shouts and calls to buy their wares
Fruit and veg, bottled jam and crafts
Suddenly I saw your cute face

You searched a stall with lots of bling
Checking earrings and girly stuff
I note your hands and long brown legs
You turned, smiled and my heart did sing

"Do I know you from so long ago?"
I asked when I approached up close
She laughed and shook her head in fun
"My Dad's your boss, didn't you know?"

"Let me buy you that" I spoke up
As I tried to recall the time
Then persuaded her to have a chat
With me over a coffee cup

I loved her nose and sparkling eyes
We talked of lots and made a date
"What will your father think of this?"
She said, "I'll tell you now, no lies"

"He says you're better than others there
You have potential, so he says
I'm so pleased you have checked me out
I want a man who has some flair"

Image found at www.expansephotography.com

How times have changed

Visiting my place of birth after so many years I spied an old building that looked familiar that had been built in the 17th century during the English Civil war and added to over the years; how those brick walls brought back memories.

This old Grammar school in England which I attended so long ago had changed me from boyhood to youth and set me on the road to adulthood for it had made me what I am.

I parked my car and walked in through the entrance gate and found it was no longer a place of education for it was now converted to retirement apartments and no longer rang with the laughs and shouts of children but was a home for quieter persons such as myself.

In that room over there they told us the king had died and now we had a queen and up there in the headmaster's study I had received the cane for misbehaving.

I closed my eyes and I could imagine the games we played in the schoolyard and my nose could sense the playing field with newly mowed grass for us to play our sport on and I felt like weeping.

In my last year there I was admonished for holding hands with a girl as I walked home with her; how time have changed. 

Image found at www.heritage-explorer.co.uk

Never liked camping

All day long we climbed
Through the forest, past the lakes
Up the mountainside

Good idea, she'd said
As with laboured breath I smiled
And followed her lead

We will camp up there
She pointed to the tall trees
Makeshift home tonight

Soon the night sounds ruled
Owls hoots and wind rustling leaves
Tired were soon asleep

Woke, jab in the ribs
Hark, there is something outside
She said terrified

Put my arms round her
Slowly got her back to sleep
Never liked camping

Image found at www.blog.henryart.org

The blind date

This was not serious
It was just a blind date
Just a friendly foursome
With my mate and his girl
Did I get a surprise! 

She brought a friend along
What a stunner she was 
Five foot one, so much fun
Turned up nose, rosy lips
Then that smile just for me

Introduced we shook hands
I kissed her on the cheek
Just a friendly greeting
Looked deep into her eyes
And my heart beat so fast

Was this one a keeper?
The gravity of that
Then occupied my mind
As we chatted alone
Oh, how the stars did shine

How difficult it was 
Not to fly off with her
I ate with just my fork
And placed my hand on hers
Which she gripped so tightly

After my friend chided me
"That was a boring meal
Where were you two" he asked
But I just did not care
I was over the moon

Image found at www.scienceofrelationships.com

One Winter's Day

When I was a young child 
My father said "Blast" a lot
While in the garden plot

Which was the extreme
By our mother's instruction
As we were so young

However in his work shed
New words were learned without fear
Hidden from her sharp ear

Then one winters day
Called to lunch us three turned up
Washed hands, food to sup

"Oh! Bloody hell Mum 
Surely not cabbage again"
My brother did complain

He was sent to bed
Father looked out the window
Thought he spied a crow

Scared I hid my smile
Glad it had not been me
And ate my greens with glee


Image found on www.pinterest.com

Come walk with me

Put your weapons down

I’ve no energy to fight                      

Let’s breathe in fresh air                

Here come walk with me               

Let’s show what we are made of  

Let’s transform the world                 

Which path shall we take?            

It’s easy to run down hill                

Into deep trouble                             

I’d pick the track up

You can see the view far off

That is food for thought

We’ll help each other

And can practice our singing
For a joyful life

Image found at www.7-themes.com

So glad it's saturday

It was blowing a gale

Twigs slapping on the glass

Wife was now sound asleep

Breathing steadily now

Who says dads sleep right through?

Baby daughter whimpers

Please don’t cry I whisper

But she is unsettled

Tiny hand reaches through crib

With its wooden pink rails

Is she needing a feed?

Quietly I get up

Rocking her gently in hope

But now she wants to play

Coos and murmurs at me

Carefully I lift her

Take her to the lounge room

It’s halfway through the night

She’s happy to play now

Gurgling her own sweet words

Crisp cold of next day’s dawn

Wife finds me nursing babe

Now sleeping in my arms

Pressure seams in my flesh

Dark bags beneath my eyes

“Been up long?“ She inquires

Smiling happily now

“I’ll get a cup of tea”

She looks so beautiful

So glad it’s Saturday

Image found at www.huffingtonpost.com

So many years ago

I had a request to pick the grandchildren up from school as my daughter was held up at another appointment.

I was quite pleased for hadn’t done that little chore since I had children of my own.

However I hadn’t anticipated how difficult it was to find a parking space by the school at that hour and had to park so way away;  so not only was it a long walk to the school gates there were two different entrances depending on the classes the kids were in.

So by the time I had pushed passed the boys, girls, satchels, mums, strollers, toddlers and the rest all trying to get out of school I found myself inside the grounds looking for the grand-kids.

There they were, the grandson tearing around the playground pretending he was an aircraft and the other skipping over the hopscotch layout with some friends also waiting for their parents.

While they finished their games and said their goodbyes, I shed a tear of sadness of my own long lost childhood of so many years ago.

Image found www.shutterstock.com

Of being alone

I look at the words
And wait to be fired up

But shake my head sadly

I want to be inspired

Write a love story

With a touch of tenderness

I think of a kitchen

Peeling the vegetables

Of igniting the cook top

The chores of the lonely

Of being alone

Washing the greasy pans

Just where are your arms

Holding me so tight

It’s hellish without you

I can’t breathe you in

Or hear your sweet voice

And look in your green eyes

Image found at www.nvmtopprojecten.nl

It was a hot day

It was a hot day

Miles to go before my sleep

AC on full blast

A country summer

Driving across the wide plain

Through eucalypt trees

A kangaroo here

Some Galahs on the fence post

and dead snakes on the road

Two more hours to go

Some white cloud on horizon

No, that is smoke there

There’s a cordon ahead

Diversion down a farm track

Too late to turn back

Now heading northward

Can see the fire is extensive

A mind of its own

There’s a truck ahead

So no chance to pass him here

Unless he sees me

Going is so slow

Long since the track’s been graded

Good, he’s waved me on

Bitumen ahead

Turn right well back from fire front

Scent of smoke now gone

An hour behind time

Back to the highway again

Township up ahead

Yet more diversions

Now the wind is getting up

More fire trucks pass by

Finally get home

“I didn’t think you’d make it”

She says with a kiss

TV is on loud

All about the fire and damage

So I turn it off

Never been so scared

Just wanted to be with you

I will sleep well now

Image found at www.theaustralian.com

Off the beaten track

Traffic sped past us

We're cycling along the road

No reason to rush

The breeze in our face

And the sun’s warmth on our backs

Cabin five miles back

River by our side

The water filled with shorebirds

Playing in the ponds

Off the beaten track

Bikes now hidden in the dunes

The wind in our hair

We were now alone

In the distance sounds of birds

Thin chirps and cheeps

Estuary of love

Their natural habitat

Wonder of new life

Each year we came here

In their own vicinity

To check the new chicks

Image found www.dnr.sc.gov

The sun next day

The thrum of traffic on the street

A milk carton still in his hand

The chill of evening at his feet            

Illuminated letters bright                           

On neon signs above his head

Negates the urge to sleep this night

The night link bus roars in the mist

Whose grey riders trip homeward bound

Just minutes from a welcome kiss

He risked his all to make his way

Courage fails to make homeward trip

What matters is the sun next day

Image found at www.theage.com.au

Tell me a story

She was four years old

Most lovely girl in the world

Should I be so bold

Every night the same

Dad tell me a story please

What else could I do?

So Peter Rabbit

Fairies, goblins, dragons too

Made her want much more

Alice and rabbit

Queen of hearts and mad hatter

Was her magic world

But my favorite

Was Blyton’s Faraway tree

Dad read it to me

My heart skips a beat

When I hear her pleading cry

Tell me a story

Image found at www.sheknows.com

The Rock Island Line

I was sorting out my Dad’s stuff after he had died; you know all the usual junk that you’d find in an eighty year old man’s home who lived by himself.

A few bits might go the op shops; some furniture could be sold or passed on while the rest would be best taken to the tip.

There were a few sentimental knick-knacks such as photographs and memorabilia that could be kept if they had some memories for the family but for the rest…I just sighed.

It was when I was sorting out an old dresser I found something that intrigued me.

It was a much used copy of a 78rpm record going back the 50’s entitled “Rock Island Line” by The Lonnie Donegan Skiffle Group.

I cried as I remember my mother telling me they used to play it incessantly when she and Dad were courting.

Image found at www.45worlds .com

Johnno

Johnno what a teacher he was                                                    

We were all thin kids way back then                                           

From the privations of the war                                                      

Except for one fatty name Mike                                                    

But his dad did work in a Bank                                                    

In those days schools were poorly manned                              

Johnno taught us Maths and Science                                       

Then he took all us boys for Sport                                               

Somehow squeezed in Music as well                                        

A lot of us inscribed our names                                                   

On the ancient school’s red brick walls                                      

So I put mine next to my Dad’s                                                     

Before I was caught in the act                                                      

But the initials stayed there                                                          

It was well worth half an hour                                                      

Sitting detention after school                                                        

To tell my Dad when he came home                                           

Past six after work in the city                                                        

Johnno also ran the Stamp Club                                                 

Held once a month at week’s end                                                                       

Word philately not used then                                                       

He was my favorite there too                                                        

More than that he inspired me                                                     

Made his lessons interesting                                                        

He praised all us kids at football                                                  

Said my voice was like a foghorn 

I even loved him for that   

Image found at www.thedailymail.co.uk                                            

We met again

After all these years

She still had that certain smile

I remember Jane

Much more than just friends

So absorbed in each other

Shall I say lovers?

Yes, she glanced at me

Embarrassed she turned away

Left my heart empty

Dreaming of you in autumn

I awake                                                                       

My dreams of you gone                                           

Fragments of the past disappear                           

Who has stolen you away?                                                

Gone from my side                                                   

Still dark night                                                           

Tears fall from my eyes                                            

The clock says three fifteen dimly                                     

Erotic moments have passed                                      

Alone once again                                                    

Have I changed?                                                      

Do you watch me still?                                             

Who was guilty of your theft?                                 

How I dread the morning’s light
Leaves fall sadly                            

                           

Image found at www.soul-amp.blogspot.com  

The clock ticked on

I have left the town of my birth                                         

With her wide fields and copses dark

Running free as a small wild child

For that is what I surely was

Dirty knees, shoes and ragged pants

We’d shout and tease the girls around

A grin upon my dirty face

As I would run from place to place

I’ve traveled far, so far away

Why did I leave those tinkling streams

The lurking foxes and squirrels red

Placid cattle and hooting owls

We climbed the trees and forts did make

Then stooked the hay in harvest time

Late home for tea on each fine day

All us kids sad to end our play

I left because the clock ticked on

The seasons changed and I did too

First I wore those long trousers grey

A combed my hair all by myself

Now I saw each girl with new eyes

And I blushed when they laughed at me

But gladly would go back there again

As growing old is such a pain

Image found at www.digitalmanphotography.com