Monday, 30 December 2019

Water under the bridge

When I think of childhood I think of me
Seven years old wading in the cool stream
My socks and shoes under the willow tree
Playtime for boy in wartime...but was free

The bombers raided in dead of night
Dropping their loads indiscriminately
Didn't have shelter so hid under stairs
Or kitchen table sleeping, without cares

Thankfully in daytime bombers were few
Walked to school or caught bus if had fare
But when we were let out at half past three
We'd run down to the river happily

There we would play for hour under the bridge
Despite barefoot we'd all get soaking wet
But dried off on our long walk home for tea
I loved playing by that bridge happily

Image found at

Tuesday, 24 December 2019


As a young boy about five
I wanted to own a doll
There was just brother and me
Mother shook her head sadly
And just said "We'll see, we'll see"

So she searched for an old one
And asked a neighbour to help
Whose young girl had quite a few
The little girl stood her ground
Shook head, no doll to be found

So as Christmas now drew near
Woke early to find my gifts
Glad to find Santa bought me one
Not a doll but stuffed monkey
Called it Beppo, happy me!

I loved that toy many years
Mended lots as he wore out
Where I went he did too
Slept with me every night
I never woke in a fright

The family moved one year
To nicer house in next town
Found Beppo hadn't come too
Tears were shed I was but nine
Got bike instead, which was fine

In case you ask; yes, this is a true story of me many years ago.

Sunday, 22 December 2019

Ahu's baby

Ahuahu had caught barely enough fish for himself let alone wife Ahu too. When would their baby be born? As he thought about Ahu waves splashed the rock and drenched him. He shook the water off and heard laughter.  

What are you doing here Moana?”

“Mummy told me to fetch you, Ahu is back home now.”

Ahuahu’s felt relieved and flicked the water off,  pulled in his line, packed the two fish  to return home. He quickly strode off forgetting Moana running after him. Hearing her call out “Ah-ua-hu " sounding lile the wind blowing through trees. He stopped for her, placed her tiny hand in his as she whispered, “She is nursing baby and is waiting for you".

When they approached the village, Moana broke free and rushed ahead and shouted “Ahuahu is back.” Hi’ilei came up to him and punched him on the arm with a broad grin, but did not walk with him. 

Ahuahu entered his whare,  two village women nodded and left. It was dark inside; his eyes adjusting to the light saw Ahu kneeling, wrapping the baby up to put it in her pouch to carry it.
“Ahu, did it all go well?”
She looked him straight in the eyes “Ahuahu my husband, you have a son.” She then lowered her eyes in the way that he loved and his heart radiated such emotion that he bent down and held her face in his hands and rubbed noses with her and he cried tears of joy.
Ahu held him close as she whispered  “You are a great man Ahuahu, as you are not immune from showing your feelings. Now I have two little boys to look after but now's time for you to brag to the men about what a fine fisherman he will be.”

“I was drenched by a wave while fishing” Ahuahu said, wiping his eyes

“Everyone knows” She said, “Moana told the whole village”.

This brief extract from a serial about Maori people before the colonisation of New Zealand nearly two hundred years ago which I started writing about over nine years ago. Word count 322

Illustration of 'Moana' found at

Friday, 20 December 2019

Once we dreamed

"You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one"
John sang so many years long gone
How hope in our young eyes then shone

"Imagine all the people"
"Sharing all the world"
Now old, I can look back in shame
All our hopes have gone down the drain

"Imagine all the people"
"Living life in peace"
Now the world crumbles with abuse
Politicians are of no use

"I hope some day you'll join us"
"And the world will live as one"
John sang and how our eyes shone
Tears in eyes now show hope's all gone

Words in italic are from John Lennon's song 'Imagine'

Illustration from

Wednesday, 18 December 2019

Going round the bend

Good heavens, it's nearly year's end
Not done my Christmas shopping yet
I think I'm going round the bend

Relax there is still seven days left
Still time to join the mad shopping crowd
There's no need to look so bereft

Don't know what to get your rellies?
If they read buy them a good book
Chocolate will fill their bellies

Then what to buy their little ones?
If their older they will want cash
Girls want dolls, boys will want toy guns

There now! So are you all prepared?
Let's hope you get some presents too
I'm sure you will, they'll know you cared

Image found at

Monday, 16 December 2019

I dream of you

I thought we loved each other
How could you give me the push
Hate that you're not my missus
Dearest one I miss your kisses

"Let's play the field" you did say
As I kissed you one last time
You're the only girl I've had
I breathed you in, I felt real bad

I dream of you every night
And play songs you like best
I miss the touch of your soft skin
Close my eyes and breathed you in

Give me a call soon my love
Life is nothing without you
For now there is so much pain
Oh please be in my arms again

Image of Bruce Springsteen accredited to The Washington Post

Sunday, 15 December 2019

One dark and dirty night

I was leaning against the bar
Steamed up as I had lost my girl
Glittery lights flashed far and near
It was the season for good cheer

Not drunk so much but stomach churned
A crowd of revellers came in
And shuffled up to buy their drinks
Pretty girl looks at me and winks

This lass did cheer me up a lot
As she grins whilst still with her crowd
More people now surge through the door
Must be trippers a the coach tour

One brief moment she touches me
I grab that moment and so kiss her
"Thanks, my first kiss tonight" she says
Liked her lots, told her "My name's Les"

"How about you, is your name Jean?"
She laughed out loud, "Would you like that?
"No, just that you seem familiar"
"You're right, were both in school's last year"

Image found at

The cost of hay

Well the weather is not bleak
Not been frosty for many a week
The temperature is rising
So is the cost of hay too
Lambs are moaning it's quite a to do

The weather has not been stable
Farmers do what they are able
You can't call their job working bliss
As they shepherd their large flock around
To ensure that some feed can be found

I often think of Christmas cards
Showing small flock that they guard
With ewes giving milk to their lambs
Part of worship that's ever been
Is the traditional Christmas scene

Image found at

Friday, 13 December 2019

You are not here

The nights are not dark enough
I lay in bed but can't kiss your cheek
I can cope with day but not the night

A wise owl hoots outside in a tree
I'm trapped with grief will always be
We've buried you, I hated the sight

The wind now whistles a mournful tune
How strange that is for it's only June
I feel cold too, that's surely not right

Can I live without you all alone?
Your looks, your laugh, you hogging the phone
As you glance at me, eyes flashing bright

The kids are a help, know how I feel
They have asked me over for a meal
But I want you here with me all night

The opening line above is from Kerry's poem Self Portrait in Night

Image found at

Wednesday, 11 December 2019

Could I talk of you?

The nights are not dark enough
Seeing you there years ago
I spied you standing in the street
As you flicked your hair from your face
Such beauty took me back a pace

Or was it that quizzical stare
As our eyes met you were aware!
So walked right up and smiled at you
Seemed the best thing to do I thought
You just grinned at me...I was caught!

So introduced myself to you
"I know" you said "I asked Tessa"
Yes I knew Tessa, my mate's girl
She was dating my best friend Leigh
The world is quite small don't you see

We walked as she was off to work
And I was too, I did not shirk
T'was a short way from her workplace
So each day we'd meet up for lunch
Our eyes would lock as we did munch

Wasn't long before we got engaged
How contented then we both were
What can I say we were a match
Grabbing the moment when it came
That's how to win the mating game

Image found at

Monday, 9 December 2019

Two views

One view

The troops are here back in our land
Don't they know they'll die on our sand?

It's our bad luck we live in a barren land
It's dry, we're poor, what don't they understand?

And the reverse

Can't they see we want to set them free?
You'd think they'd all be shouting with glee

Don't they realize we live a better life?
Yet theirs is full of oppression and strife

Image found at

Sunday, 8 December 2019

I leave no evidence

What will heal my wounds of life
As I struggle to start again
Much like sad and barren tree
Losing leaves, blossoms sadly
Baring all majestically

Along comes spring full of joy
Bathing in watery kiss
Leaves spring gladly every year
Flower buds gifting new life
Tree not knowing she was wife

Swaying in forest clearing
Sometimes fearing scent of smoke
Always sucking water up
To feed buds and seeds therein
Hiding many birds basking

And me? When I think of death
Body in casket now placed
All I was; blown far away
No more pride no disgrace
In heaven, hell or other place

Image found at

Sparkling Eyes

That sad story we do tell ourselves
Trying to hide our faults on high shelves
S'pose we all hunger for the past
Opening our minds who we once were
Choking with sadness when we lost her

Yet days do not weary anymore
Once when filling them was quite a bore
Should we reminisce about the past?
Or try to put that aside for good
Does it matter if misunderstood?

So love hurts if that fire is put out
It's not a sin to cry or to shout
Or to jump queue in the line of love
Where one must fly high to win the prize
On the grounds that she has sparkling eyes

Image found at

Friday, 6 December 2019

Pacifico temptation

So many stories this ocean tells
With its vast seas and washed up shells
I've swum in reefs, worn garlands galore
Fiji, Samoa, Tonga and more
I've danced with brown girls holding me tight
Whose alluring smiles are a delight
Fell in love with their way of life
Wondered about native girl for a wife
Who stole my heart with her dancing feet
Took my hand and writhed to music's beat
One girl smiled and asked for my address 
Hoping to find work in Aus, my guess
It never happened but memories last
Believe me how tempted I was in the past

Illustration of Pacifico -The Pacific Ocean, by Kerry O'Connor@skyloverpoetry

Tuesday, 3 December 2019

I really hate change

I really hate change, unless it is me
It's my choice to be who I want to be
But with others I firmly disagree
I really must end this verse with an 'e'

I am joking of course but we should all
Accept changes even they do appall
You wouldn't think that I would have the gall
To finish verse without a rhyme at the end!

Forgive me I like to have just one joke
For I've always been that sort of bloke
Forever laughing as I write each stroke
As though my finger does give you a poke

Enough of the silly childish banter
You'll think of me as a silly ranter
I'll soon be speeding off at a canter
Christmas shopping calls so might meet Santa!

Image found at

Monday, 2 December 2019

Words and Deeds

Words to live by you say; when deeds really count
Would you muse at home while I climb a mount?
Do your scribbles match my world wide view?
Do rhymes match my seeing a kangaroo?

Okay, they're dangerous could give a kick
But could go to church to light candle wick
Then take a walk in rain and howling gale
It's exciting so writing tells the tale

To tell you the truth, I always stay home
Though seen the world even Samoa and Rome
My memory's keen so scribble a lot
Writing of cold and (as Aussie) the hot!

Must confess dictionary's by my side
I view the wide world with eyes open wide
And pound the keys as write poems and prose
But am so sad this blog site soon goes

Image found at

Sunday, 1 December 2019

Bothersome flies

What can I do with these bothersome flies
My face is sweating they're invading my eyes
I could swat them with my weekend paper
They're looping around, I don't like this caper

All I did was to prune the garden roses
That's the trouble when our skin we exposes
My wife is watching me from the windows
I think I'll move slowly into the shadows

Or else take my bicycle for a spin
To set me free of my imagining
Seems I have always been a fretful man
I am not quite sure when this all began

I suppose it was when I was a child
Expect you know the drift; I was meek and mild
Born in Venice so sang a barcarole
Introverted so dug myself in a hole

Image found at

Friday, 29 November 2019

That girl

I really loved that girl
Was that the truth? Her eyes agreed

That girl I really loved
Her eyes agreed that was the truth

I loved that girl? Really?
The eyes agreed; was that her truth?

The truth was I really loved that girl
That; her eyes agreed

That agreed, I loved her eyes
That girl really was the truth

That girl, her eyes I really loved
Agreed that was the truth

Image found at

Wednesday, 27 November 2019

Love and longing

I loved your green eyes and the way you flicked your hair
But you have left me now it just does not seem fair
Only to wake each morning to find you're not near
Knowing that my love, that have really gone I fear

I go for walks just like we always used to do
On the beach, in the hills and through the woodland too
You were a bird watcher they all still sing their song
But you my dear I have lost in the milling throng

How does one cope when your love leaves you all alone?
What doyou do when she doesn't answer her phone?
How does one's heart beat when there is just now hope left?
How can I cope at all when I am so bereft?

Love and longing are such a peculiar pair
I am so brokenhearted it seems so unfair
Each day I wake I know the choice that I must face
In having to find someone else to take your place

Image found at

Monday, 25 November 2019

What can I say?

What can I say? I came, I saw and I hid
Beneath the curly swathe of my jet black hair
Immersed myself in every book I could read
Floating, flying in a dream without a care

I explored the east and I ventured way south
Spoke strange languages out of my pouting lips
And searched for the meaning of this precious life
Magnifying glass now attached to my hips

I scribbled and wrote and I scrawled even more
I researched this and I wrote of that all day
Even took pad and dictionary to bed
Living my life of writing in every way

The mystery is I never found a man
With whom I could share love and a future life
To tend to all my strange and wildest needs
So lived my days as my dictionary's wife

Image used with permission of artist to illustrate writing at 'Imaginary Garden with Real Toads'  

Saturday, 23 November 2019

Sweet Colleen

Did I tell you about sweet Colleen
My brother's girlfriend when I was a teen
Don't know why but I thought she was beaut
She was shy, smiled at me which was cute
Aching for her, she was ripe fruit

I so wanted a girl just like that
She wasn't thin nor was she fat
You could say I had a crush on her
Had bully brother so did demure
Which was more than I could endure

Luckily he and she did not last
Soon she was a thing of the past
I started to work in another place
Near Christmas I thought I saw her face
When she saw me; said "HI" no disgrace

Found out we were made for each other
She then said "You're not like your brother"
Now in the twilight of my long life
After all the good times and the strife
So glad I did steal her for my wife

Coleen saw the subtle difference
Chose me on other side of fence
I'd fogotten what grief he could cause
That she left him was cause for applause
She was like a gift from Santa Claus

Image found at https://com/photos/face-red-makeup-hair-girl-cute-4494513/


How I recall Angela
A sweet girl with bright blue eyes
Who with just one kiss would give such sighs

She was a lass next to none
Her lips the taste of cinnamon
Which I must say was quite uncommon

She stacked the shelves in a shop
Which is why my eyes did pop
To see her long legs and derriere

But that was nothing at all
Because she was six feet tall
I didn't groan as I was too

I gave her onyx earrings
She loved them they made her sing
Next will be a diamond ring

Image found at

Monday, 18 November 2019

Early morning sun

I woke to see early morning sun
Now shining through the bedroom window
I lay my head close by, watching her
She breathes in quietly unaware
As curtains sway in the summer breeze

The lawn I cut yesterday grins at me
Scent of fresh cut grass still in the air
I should get her a cup of black tea
Long to stay with her for eternity
For there are no better days than these

I breathe in the perfume of her skin
Still dozing she puts her arm round me
I am intoxicated with her love
What a lucky man to have found this prize
Then she awakes and says "Darling, tea please"

Image found at

Sunday, 17 November 2019

So off we go

There was a lick of light through the curtain
As the crack of dawn made her appearance
Bird in tree's branches waves hello to me
Keeping time with her family of three

I like my garden and I love my wife
They're the two best things that are in my life
That's until our new baby brings us joy
Times imminent already got one toy

I won't be happy till baby's here
Must be calm but inner feelings do fear
I prefer the rhythm of garden tree
Soon I'll hold her hand and new baby see

I turn to see my wife's sleeping face
Her clothes are all packed in one single case 
Then she whispers "Time"  just one single word
So off we go, cheeped on by just one bird

Image found at

My potter daughter

Daughter has taken to pottery
Throwing muddy clay upon a spinning wheel
Moulding it with her fair hands
Until she forms bowl, pitcher or vase

It takes some time to get the knack
Eventually trying again and again
Establishes a rhythm 
To form pot and smears on face

Gradually she likes the work
Not dilly dallying to make her own way
There's no heavy heart or strain
Happy, bouncing home, pots in case

She's passed the test in tutors eyes
Around the house we have flower pots galore
Dishes and other things
Now need shelves in every place!

Image found at www.potters-wheel-girl.jpg

Friday, 15 November 2019

A child in wartime

I wake up to the sirens drone
I was small but not alone
Sound was like a mournful scream
Blinds drawn so our lights are not seen

I am a small boy once again
See my mother's eyes in pain
Dad's in London fire watching
It is wartime no time to sing

We hear the planes up in the sky
Can't look out even if I try
Blackout curtains do make sure
If light seen warden will knock door

Under the table we huddle
Pillows, blankets and cuddle
Quietly I fall asleep
Wake up in bed heard not one peep

Mother must have put me to bed
Now it's morning I'm not dead
So must get up, off to school
Can't miss the bus that is the rule

The bus is late, I can see why
Buildings bombed Mum starts to cry
Hoping dad will soon come back
Working all night he'll hit the sack

Dad arrived when we got back home
Shrapnel gift from a dropped bomb
Showed it off at school next day
Kids crowd around at break for play

I liked watching planes overhead
Or listen to them when in bed
War's horrid I've seen it all
Still recall it while standing tall

Image found at