To my watches
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Posted:Mar 24, 2011 4:39 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 7:22 am
8104 Views
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Once you used to leave comments about my efforts.
When you write, you do so for many reasons, mine are mainly cathartic or to relive both beautiful memories and hurtful ones, but also to finally let it go and move on.
When you do nit comment either good or bad, then I do not know if my writing style is improving or not.
Yes a lot of my writings are dark and not uplifting, but it is honest and from my heart and sometimes even my soul.
Presently their are words forming in my brain but are nit ready to escape to the screen, hopefully they will be set free soon
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Fantasy of Wuinning Lotto --- What woud I do
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Posted:Mar 14, 2011 7:18 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 7:22 am
8121 Views
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Friday morning saw her in the newsagent waiting to see if she had won... as normal they would say not this time luv, better luck next time... do you want a ticket for next week, and she would reply yes please just a small one thank you.
She handed her ticket for it to be passed through the machine, she was day dreaming and watching the people rushing past....
Oh my God!!!!!, Oh my God!!!!!!, which one, which customer gave you this ticket... That’s her, the one in the wheel chair... My attention was pulled back; the staff were all babbling and staring at me.
Excuse me, but you come with me please, she felt sick to her stomach, what was wrong, had she accidently taken something and forgotten to pay. She had done that once. She was about to get into the taxi when she noticed the two bottles of milk at her feet... she told the taxi driver to finish loading her groceries into the taxi and she rushed back to Woolworths to pay for the milk. Expecting any minute to feel a hand on her shoulder arresting her, her brain working frantically trying to go over what she had bought.
She arrived at the office and she was told to wait a minute, the woman who was the manager of the Shopping complex came out with a huge grin on her face. Oh congratulations she gushed kissing her on both cheeks...I am so happy for you, what are you going to do with 20million dollars.
Her first thought, what the hell is going on its not April fool’s day, why are they playing this joke on her. Did you hear me; you have won Thursdays’ Powerball the whole $20 million. Her heart started pounding in her ears and she heard herself ask for a glass of water. Slowly it started t sink in... She started she did not know if it was out loud or to herself...Thank you Mother Mary, Saint Mary, all my angels... Oh Lordy she had gone from being on the brink of homelessness to a millionaire.
Shaking like a leaf, she spoke to the Powerball office in Brisbane and arranged a time for the limo to pick her up and take her to their offices to sign for and receive the cheque. She just wanted to go home, go home and get into her bed and let it sink in.
Her , she would give her 2 Million, her family she would pay off their mortgages and set up a trust fund for her two nieces and grand niece and nephew.
She would give 1.5million to the battered wives shelter, setting it up so that women when they were ready to leave the shelter would have $5000 to start again.
She would get her home back; she would offer the people who bought it an extra $100,000 to get it back, her beloved home.
She got up and went and made herself a cup of tea, her favourite Russian Caravan by twinnings. Sipping her tea, her mind buzzed with other things she wanted to do, buy three more properties, and one in Canada, most probably in Victoria or Quebec City. Renovate her home, making it a two story with her bedroom enlarged on the ground floor and a swimming pool put in.
She could travel again, visiting her favourite countries. Then it came to her, she could help her friends;
A large cottage with a beautiful garden in that Scottish fishing village in Scotland;
Money to help a friend to start his own high tech company;
Another friend a home of her own, in her name in case the marriage she was trying to save went bust;
Her friend who had lost his home, see if he wanted it back or a new house to bring his new lady to start a new life after so many years of unhappiness;
Then there was her special friend who had transplanted himself to the other side of the USA, She would love to become his silent partner buy him a business where he could use his artistic talents with a little luck, hopefully a flat above the shop would be part of the deal.
She started laughing, would her friends let her do this, her friends were proud people, would they feel like she was giving them charity... she began to frown... how could she do it... how could it be done where their pride would be intact. That was the question, she must tread very carefully.
She fell asleep, in her dreams she saw herself cruising the Mediterrean on a beautiful boat in a balcony state room suite, visiting Roma, Frenzi, Venuzzia, Capri, Sicily, onto Greece and her favourite islands as well as the mainland of Greece
Oh yes Morocco, Spain, Portugal, Egypt sailing down the Nile, staying in Aswan at the beautiful old Hotel she had stayed in previously....
Japan, Taiwan, China, Korea... so many places, Oh and she must return to Africa and the orphanages she had worked in and the refugee camps and give donations to buy medicines, equipment, beds, food, so many things that we take for granted but to many are rare to have.
She got up and had a cooling shower, made herself a Salmon (out of a tin) salad, watched a little Television. Yawning she took herself off to bed and slept again a smile on her face, she would sort out what she had to do tomorrow.
Tomorrow she would ring her and her cousin and let them know... but would she tell them how much.... maybe not.... no she would not tell anyone except her bank manager and her investment counsellor and of course the Tax man....just how much she had won... maybe her family should not be told it was her doing the giving... maybe it should be anonymous so much better, yes that is how she would do it. She would takes things slowly and not flaunt her new wealth... she did not want all the new best friends and n on heard of friends beating a trail to her door for a handout or to bus a lost diamond mine, finance a sure fire invention...Dam no she would not wish that on her worst enemy... Much thought would have to go into what she was going to do with the windfall.
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Thoughts and Rambles
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Posted:Mar 11, 2011 7:38 am
Last Updated:Mar 16, 2011 7:48 am
8471 Views
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Over the past three months I have seen my ordered world collapse around me.
Relatives I cared for and had always helped in the past, saving homes from foreclosure, businesses from Bankruptcy and Paying for University degrees.
Thinking that the younger generation would flourish and be abe to help others in our extended family lead productive and happy lives.
Helping them to grow and expand by helping pay for back packing holidays to overseas countries. I was happy to be a part of this my extended family.As a wee bairn of six months I was adopted by two remarkable people.
I do not mean they were famous, or extremely rich, they were ordinary midde class people who would by hard work become very well off. No they were remarkable because of the love and nurturing they gave both my sister and I, always telling us how special we were, how loved.
They were part of the glue along with my grandmother that kept the family together when I was a and during my teenage years.
So many happy memories of weekends spent at Kurnell or Cronulla having barbe ques and swimming parties. My sister and I were privileged to help my father with his wonderful Christmas events.
Somewhere along the way however, I forgot my fathers teachings, and advice, about money, family and friends...If you lend money, make sure you have a written confirmation of the loan and make sure you get the money back. Not always in a luymo sum and not always quickly. You must always leave them their dignity and the ability to pay you without leaving them in hardship and resentful.
Never just give the money, if you do it somehow demeans then and they think they can use you whenever they want.Sometimes they come to resent you as they feel like they are living in handouts, it does not stop them from asking for the money but it makes them weak in some ways It stops them from learning to stand on their own two feet or work out how to get through tough times when their is a family member they can get money from if trouble.
Now I am no longer married to a wealthy man, nor work financially I could no longer get them out of trouble. When I found myself in dire straits I naturally went to them to ask for help.
I was furious, hurt and shattered when they either said no or would not answer my telephone calls or return messages. Whenmyn Aunt and my cousin did not offer and when I asked for a place to stay for a couple oi weeks said no...
How could they do that to me, didn't I help them, didn't my mother and I stand up to my grandfather when he wanted to change his Will and disinherit them.. how could they repay me this way.
Well why not, did they really owe me anything, yes over the years when my uncle could not work due to illness my mother would take them grocery's and leave an envelope with Mooney in it.
Now I look back, it must has been so soul destroying to have to take handouts, to be made to feel inferior, though we had not realised that was what we were doing.
So the last several months have been a learning curve for me, By my so called generosity I had amde them into the people they are. No better and no worse than others, scared in these times of stock crashes, job losses not only in the blue ciklkar sector but the white as well. High flayer's reduced to mowing lawns as a way to survive and feed their families.
Besides, my decisions led me to the predicament I found myself in, no matter it had started with trying to help out a close friend... they were my decisions I chose my path.
I never truly understood what they meant when they said you have to reach rock bottom before you learned how to live. Now I know and understand.
So now I begin again, I have been blessed with a brain and abilities that will gain me employment, it will no longer be senior management nor full time, but I will work and bring in money to supplement my disability pension. Once more I will respect and like myself, and slowly rebuild if it is my destiny friendships that have shattered or cracked along the way.
I will also follow the old adage, never a borrower or lender be... what I cannot afford I will go without till I can afford it..
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Finding her faith
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Posted:Mar 10, 2011 11:01 pm
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 7:22 am
8050 Views
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Finding her Faith
She was always saying I will pray for you!
You are in my prayers,
And she did do that, each night and in the early morning hours she lit the candle in her circle of Angels
All her life she had tried to do the right thing
It did not always work out as she had wished
But it did not really get to her she just brushed it off
After all she said her prayers; she was a good person,
It wasn’t her fault if things went wrong.
When she lost three of her precious
In a horrific car accident; she was not driving,
It wasn’t her fault though her husband said it was.
She went inside herself into a make believe world.
She; god help her, truly believed they were still alive.
The boys were away at Boarding school, her away on holidays or the were visiting their grandparents. Anything so she did not have to face the truth the reality they were dead
On a warm night with rain falling heavily and lightening hitting the earth she sat in an antiseptic hospital room holding her Eyshia s’ hand the wee bairn was dying from Leukemia….
She sat at her babies side listening holding that
So tiny fragile hand, She did not notice when they turned off the life support machines and the room was deathly quiet none of this did she notice.
She is gone said the doctor as gently as he could.
Knowing how fragile her mental health, but still
She sat there holding the beloved hand, telling her all
The things they were going to do when she was better.
Finally she was taken from the room under sedation
She listened to her husband’s cruel words as he
Screamed at her, but her dead eyes saw nothing
Her ears did not hear.
She had refused to go to the cemetery, her
Were alive.. But this day reality came crashing down
Upon her. There in front of her were ’s’ headstones. Her brother-in-Law tried to catch her as she crumpled, and fell to the ground in a dead faint
It took many months in a private facility and intense therapy, to bring her back to this world.
Part of the therapy consisted of admitting to and
Finally tell the truth about her babies.
Her remaining her eldest helping her….
But still she skirted around her faith, still saying
I will pray for you, please if I can help you, let me
Please do not think badly of her, in her way she
Believed what she was saying, she really did want
To try and help her friends, but not let anyone touch her where it really counted… but looking back I do not think she realized that
Events over took her and she found herself on the streets. Deserted she thought by her relatives and friends
Two proud and ashamed to tell her
Just how bad it was and that she was homeless
Then the final thing, the incident that finally broke her.
She had fought illness and chronic pain for almost three years; she had taken on her Mortgage company
Standing up to their underhanded and bullying tactics; The death of her closest friend, when he committed sucide.He could not face life after his mercy killing of his terminally ill wife; The death of four friends from a similar illness as hers.
However, when she lost the friendship of someone she loved deeply, they thought she had lied to them andthey turned away. That nightshe felt her heart shatter into a million shards, she cried uncontrollably.
She lit the candle within her Angel circle, but
This time it was different. Trying to talk through her tears she put herself in Gods’ hands and told him whatever happened in the future. She would accept, no longer would she question, no longer would she blame others for her mistakes. That night she refound her faith of her childhood
She slept that night for the first time in months
She slept the whole night almost 12 hours
The first thing she did was light the candle and pray
When she had had a cup of tea she started sorting out her things when she felt something in the lining of her handbag. It was the tiny Star of David and gold chain she had been given by her Great grandmother and her friend who lived in Istanbul on her last visit.
She broke down and wept really wept; when finally she stopped she was exhausted and fell asleep again.
The next day when she returned to her friends’ garage there was a message waiting for her to ring her Real Estate agent. With trembling fingers she dialed the number. Her face lit up as the words Emily was saying sunk in; tears rolled silently down her face.
Her house was sold, and the mortgage company was accepting the buyers bid. Emily explained she was handling the sale of my property not the mortgage company. The Banking ombudsman had threatened to look more closely at the breaking by them of the original contract.
A private conveyancing company had been retained to handle the sale and not the legal firm attached to the mortgage company. She would get the proceeds left over after the mortgage and fees of the agent were taken out.
After she got off the phone she rushed to her angels and gave thanks to Mother Mary, Saint Mary McKillop and God for their kindness to her, the relief of having a roof over her head once more.
She promised she would try and live up to their expectations of her, to live a life where she really did help people and be there for her friends. She asked them to understand, sometimes she would falter, trip and make mistakes but she would get up dust herself off and try again.
She also promised herself no matter how long it took her would earn back her friendship with the one she cared for so deeply…. She now knew her renewed faith and her knowledge that heaven did not judge her or hate her, but understood her fragilities and loved her still, would give her the strength to face anything that came her way.
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Throw Away Society
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Posted:Feb 19, 2011 10:32 pm
Last Updated:Mar 3, 2011 5:14 pm
8130 Views
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Throw Away Society
She sits slowly rocking in her favorite chair
The rocker is old, it needs, a lick of white
Glossy paint that would enhance its beauty,
The woven cane on the arms of the chair need repair,
Yet she does not see it she loves it still
As she rocks a soft creaking sound
Echoes up and down the length of the verandah
Adding its contribution to the cacophony of sounds,
That are, the symphony of the night.
The distant sound of a braying at the moon,
A cricket playing its legs violin, a male bull frog
Croaking out its mating call trying to impress attract
That enchanting female sitting on the edge of the fish pond
Far off cars their engines humming, their horns blaring
The whine of an ambulance siren speeding down the highway
Still she rocks; her eyes closed sipping slowly quietly
On the aromatic Ginger tea given to her
By a friend slash student; a reminder of her lingering
Though, she now sleeps in her native land.
Her nightie cool cotton allowing her body to breathe,
The soft balmy night with its gentle cooling breeze
A relief after the cloyingly, muggy, humid day,
So hot was the day, that a cold shower
Cascading down onto her body, evaporated,
Adding to the steamy humidity of the day
Looking down on her she is alone, but;
That is far from the truth; she is surrounded;
Surrounded by people, places and events
From her memories, some sweet loving ones
Dancing and singing around her
Others painful bringing tears and a hint of fear
Sometimes remorse to her eyes,
But all of them in their own way comforting, necessary
To the whole, to the person she has become over the years
She remembers a time when she sat between
Her uncle and her grandfather as they mended a toaster,
The element of an electric jug or much cherished, worn leather
Chair that, under their loving attention,
Would see use for years to come
Her grandfather and uncle born into a world,
A far different one from to-day s’
A time that appreciated, respected and loved and
Cared for their possessions,
Having lived through one of the worst worldwide
Depressions, within living memory, together
With two life destroying World Wars,
Filled with brutality; betrayal; Crimes against humanity,
Not witnessed since the Mongol Hordes swept across the known world.
They knew hardship, they knew having experienced
The gnawing hunger of no or little food in their stomachs
The terrifying rise of the sun on a battlefield
The stink of fear and death surrounding them
As they lay soaked in their sweat in far off lands
They belonged to the age of holding onto and repairing
Possessions, material things and the other
More important intangible things that shape our lives
Love, marriage, family and friendship, the essential
Weavings that make up our life on this earth.
She on the other hand was born on the cusp…. The changing philosophy that now shapes our world.
Toasters, washing machines, Televisions, computers, cars
The list is endless of “things” no longer built to last…
Now built to work for a short time
Maybe a year maybe two; maybe longer maybe shorter
Then to be thrown out on to a scrap heap, so a newer,
Shinier whiz bang new toy could be purchased.
Unfortunately, in this New brave world material things
Are not the only things we carelessly throw away?
Whether it is fear of intimacy, of allowing another human
Being into their heart, under their guard…
Working on a marriage when it gets tough
And the hard times come; hands are thrown in the air
Angry words are spoken and the sun sets
Without those three so very important words are spoken
I am sorry…. And the equally important word, p
Lease let us try again.
, whose innocence sometimes ripped from them,
Both parent and locked in constant battle
Misread or misunderstood signals, neither side able
To admit they made mistakes till it is too late, too late to shed
Tears of joy, love, forgiveness, hope a safe haven
A repaired heart and soul
Sometimes; the worst of all; betrayal and
The battering of their young fragile bodies, innocent trust, shattering
Soul and at times sanity
All these things she had over the years,
Experienced, lived and yes survived.
A heartfelt sighs rises from deep within her.
Her eyes closed she leans back on the soft cushion
Has she two become one of the throwaway society?
Tears seep from under her eye lids,
She lets them fall unheeded down her cheeks
How did she get here, what had she done?
To deserve what was happening to her, why her
Then her backbone kicked in…. Why not her
She had already admitted to others where she now found herself
Was of her own doing… but till just now she had not really
Believed she was truly to blame and not the others
No she was the one who had made the decisions
Whether they had been made to help for a friend in trouble,
Through misinformation, stubbiness against change, or
Sheer stupidity it didn’t matter she had to own they
Were her decisions, and she now must wear the consequences.
Some she could not change they were now beyond her control
But others, her friendships, her caring of friends, acquaintances
And family, she still had the ability to change her fate….
She could still rectify, understand and accept
Circumstances do not always stay the same
She fully believes, sometimes in life
We are given tests, or offered lessons to help us
To redefine us, make us better people,
Well hopefully better human beings who have grown
Both spiritually and mentally
She had finished her tea some time ago
And placed the empty mug on the table beside her.
Her decisions made, her faith renewed,
Her prayers answered maybe not in the way
She had hoped; but still answered,
She finally sank into a deep and healing sleep
There would be enough time in the coming days
To set the decisions into action, but for now she slept,
Now she repaired and healed her body, her mind.
Now she rested getting ready for the coming days
Of renewed fights, searching, and justice,
Yes she would continue to fight she had to,
Her parents had not been reared to be a quitter
A gutless wonder no she had to keep striving
For her material and health safety; her friendships-
Those friendships that brought her so much joy
And sometimes frustration, annoyance, disappointment
But overall so much love and affection, made her life so beautiful and worthwhile,
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Where do we draw the line....Love....Hate
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Posted:Jan 8, 2011 5:44 am
Last Updated:Apr 27, 2024 7:22 am
8444 Views
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Love Hate
What is Love?
What is Hate?
Some say that the both are interwoven
That one cannot live without the two in our lives
Like positive and negative – Day night – good bad
How many crimes have been committed in the name of love?
How many cruelties and wars have been sparked by hatred?
In some science fiction shows they features beings who have
Learned how to take emotions all away
But those beings are always depicted as drab and almost lifeless
Sublimely reinforcing emotion is necessary for our psyche
I have watched as friendships have started, grown
Blossomed i into deep affection
Sadly I have also seen those same flourishing friendships
Turn to hatred
Our hearts cannot dictate who we do and do not love
So because one loved as a friend and one as a lover
Why does it turn to hatred?
Why do we need to hurt and belittle that friendship?
Because we do not get our way
Why does an act of love that hurt to carry out
Cause so much pain and bitterness
Why do men of such character and compassion
Suddenly turn into something that cannot be recognized
Why does the pain make us do stupid things?
Go with people who are not worthy
Why do we need to have someone even?
If they are second best?
Where did d we lose the ability to be happy
With ourselves; to spend time with ourselves
Sitting here looking at my life and those of friends
Around me, I become saddened….
Young couple meets and fall in love
Bring beautiful into the world that both love
But somewhere along the way their paths divided
The love was lost
The innocent are turned into a battlefield
Lies e are told truths twisted into something ugly
Hate, trauma and bitterness
Fill the void left love departs
A couple meets, and the man thinks
He has found a weak woman who will
And can be molded into his idea of what
The a perfect little wife is
Who will not realize he cannot love her
His love is for another man
But he is too scared of society to say so
They bring into the world
A world where there is constant
Belittlement, tears, coldness…
What heritage and emotional scars
Will those carry?
A man and a woman meet and fall in love
In the most unlikely places,
The love burns bright and beautiful
And then it is gone bunt out replaced with bitter
Ashes and pain neither admitting
They still care neither understanding
The others pain or the way
They try and cover up that pain
Why does love turn to disillusionment
Coldness cruelty and finally hatred
When we can answer that question
Maybe our world will have a chance
A chance to live in peace and harmony
I wonder if I will live to see it
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Take My Hand
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Posted:Nov 3, 2010 4:06 am
Last Updated:Jan 8, 2011 5:46 am
8356 Views
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This poem is dedicated to an incrediblly sweet, decent and sensative man.
Inadvertently to-day I hurt this man, I am hoping when he reads these words he will give me another chance.
Take My hand
Why is it we prefer to
Live in the past?
Why is it we find such comfort?
Such a feeling of safety
In curling up in familiar places
As lonely as they may be
Like a , returning to a fetal position
In a dark place, where no one can find us
Choosing, for some unknown reason,
To relive past pains,
Past hurts, past rejections
Why do we build an Ivory Tower?
With no way in or out
Why is it easier to see
The entire negative,
To embrace self doubts,
Hold fast to the
“I am not worthy of this”
Why isit easier to tell ourselves?
Why it will not work
Rather than to risk one’s heart
And reach out to the positive
The real, in front of us
Why when someone wonderful
Walks into our life
Are we too scared to tell him so
Using all the tired old excuses
Tired so over used clichés
To hide behind, shielding ourselves
From fears of what might happen
Rather than take a chance
At what could happen
Why when someone
Makes us come alive again
To once more feel the radiance
and the warmth of the sun
To see all the beauty
We have in this world
Why do we still remain silent?
Or worse, in our fear
Of making a fool of ourselves,
We hurt that sweet kind decent person
Why when it is too late
And he has walked out of our life
Do we finally
Have the courage to Say?
“Please take my hand, “
Stay with me
I am so scared,
Scared as you might be scared
Please help me learn
How to Love again
Please my darling man,
Please help me
Learn how to love you
Love you as you deserve
Please dear one,
My mouth dry
My voice just a croak
I stumble over those so often
Misused and so difficult words
“I think I love you “
Forgive my fears and self doubts
Please give us a chance.
For I have seen the sun in your eyes
And know with you by my side,
I will never return
No never return to
That dark dead place
Where nevermore will
My heart, lie shattered
Abandoned and I once more
would cower in my Ivory Tower
Darling man save me
Please my Love takes my Hand
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Such a Long time
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Posted:Oct 29, 2010 8:32 am
Last Updated:Jan 8, 2011 5:47 am
8666 Views
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For the last couple of months
I have sit before my computer
Ready for my fingers to fly across the keyboard.
On my screen would appear words
Words that somehow come together
A poem would be born.
For hours I have sat there,
suddenly inspiration hits me
My fingers type furiously
My heart is beating swiftly,
This is it...I can feel it,
It is going to be wonderful
I sit expectation high beginning
Reading back what I have written.
My eyes cloud; tears form in my eyes
My finger holding down the delete key
One the screen the drivel,
The tumbled words so clumsy disappear
I leave my pc walking away in frustration,
Anger, and a great sadness welling up in side me...
Is it gone, has it left me already,
The muses did they but tease me,
Tease this arrogant mortal
She who thought herself so cleaver,
so witty....A poet
Did the sisters... tempt me,
Let me think I could be a poet
only cruelly to snatch it away
Just as my confidence was building
Just when I thought
Yes I am on my way
i am going to be a poet
I have a friend
he happily announces
during one of our many chat sessions
he has written 20 poems in two weeks....
yes I know what you are going to say,
yea but that many
In such a short amount of time...
they will be crap.
I read them, and reread them
As he corrects grammar,
Intuition that the words are nt quite right
Need a little tweaking.
In the end all are good,
some brilliant,
some gut wrenching
but all so tuned into his feelings
the feelings of so many of us out there....
I am so happy for him,
I respect his immense talent,
When we sign off I go
To my solitary chair in my garden
Hug myself /
I sit there so still
so quiet,just sit
silent tears on my cheeks
I sit mourning my loss
I mourn my loss at the way my words
used danced on the screen
I mourn my loss of feeling so energized
I mourn the feeling of relief
A long time fear
A long hidden secret revealed
I mourn , feeling sorry for myself
Then it comes gentle at first
quiet, tiny, fragile, flickering
a hope, a wish, a knowledge
Maybe it si just writers block
A smile on my face,
A wonderful happiness
Spreading through me
I will write again
When it is time
When I have something
That needs to be said
Till then my screen will remain blank
Now I rea lise
That is all right
I do not have to write
poem after poem after poem
My poems are cathartic,
Letting light into the darkness
that lingers still in my soul
My poems are quicksilver,
Butterflies in all their beauty
Taking flight
But most of all my poems are me
a reflection of me, one of many
reflections that make up the whole
That is me.... I smile
Rise from my chair
This time I know I will be back
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Friendship so frail
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Posted:Jun 4, 2010 11:30 pm
Last Updated:Oct 29, 2010 7:41 am
8817 Views
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Friendship-s such a fragile thing
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Friendship what is it?
That is the question that has been asked
through the ages and still
we search and try to put it into words
that so inadequately express it
Friendship is a fragile thing
The beating of two hearts in sync
A beautiful Sunrise or sunset
The first cry of a
entering this world
and the first sight
by a mother of that
Friendship is this and so much more
A meeting of two like minds
Respect of each other
Trust earned over time
Loyalty given freely
Being there in times of trouble
Crying when you cry
Laughing when you laugh
Friendship is holding your friends hand
When he/she is facing a crisis
Sitting with them maybe not talking
just being there
Embracing them when they have something
good happen in their life
What is not friendship
breaking their heart
Losing their trust
being guilty of disloyalty
Selfishness thinking
you know what is best
Not taking their feelings
into consideration
Thinking of how you are feeling
not giving a thought to the damage
persistent kicks in the teeth cause
Lying , thinking you are helping
when the truth thought painful
was far more wanted
I have al;ways spouted that
"Lovers are a dime a dozen"
but "Friendship is a very rare jewel
and should be guarded, nurtured and
worked for"
It is a pity I did not take my own advice.
Is my damage beyond repair
Only time will tell
The first lesson to learn in gaining
back friendship is humility
Learning to put the wishes and needs
of your friend first...
Learning when it is best to just keep quiet
not to interfere in her private business
But above all else......
RESPECT
LOYALTY,
HONESTY
HUMILITY
LISTENING
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Guess they are just not good enough
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Posted:May 27, 2010 2:09 pm
Last Updated:May 28, 2010 5:08 pm
9034 Views
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It looks like people are reading my poems, but no comments are left.
I did not think it m,mattered what others thought of my scribbles, but it does....
I write from my heart and sometimes I lay myself open for all the world to see my vulnerabilities
When I first started writing, comments left gave me encouragement whether or not the poem was liked did not m,matter... at least I raised enough feeling to leave a message....
Now nothing, it is disheartening... am I filled with pride needing to be covered with kudos....no, I am just a very non confident lady scared her writings sucks......
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Oh my Love
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Posted:May 26, 2010 12:43 am
Last Updated:Nov 3, 2010 4:20 pm
8904 Views
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Another poem is finished
Is it any good, I shrug my shoulders
Does it really matter
I do not write my poems
for others to be patted on the back
I write for the joy of seeing
ideas, thoughts come to life
to see them in black and white
My eyes are idly going down the list
Lists of people who have read my poems
My breath catches in my throat
My heart starts pounding
My eyes fill with tears
Oh my god, Oh my god
is it really you
With trembling fingers
I click on the name before me
the age is right, the State and
even the city, it is you
My fingers fly over the keys
asking a myriad of questions
Are you all right?
Are you happy?
Why have you come back?
Have you come back to me?
or is it idle curiosity?
Do I send my message
Do I delete it and let it be
The pain of our parting was great
My heart has become dormant
not trusting to once more love
to once more allow my heart to be
in Simonne's else control
If you answered me, what would I do!
Is it better not to pursue it
But what is this was a second chance
What if your doubts, your decisions
were now regretted, what if you loved me still
Oh God, please please guide me
I decide to walk away, no I will not go back
Only to come back to the message and add to it
Can I trust myself to remain calm,
not let myself open my heart to you again
With a deep sigh I press the send button
A feeling of nausea comes over me
Oh God what have I done
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Guilty as charged.....
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Posted:May 25, 2010 7:14 pm
Last Updated:May 28, 2010 5:55 pm
8679 Views
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Guilty as charged...I judged I was so wrong
Nirvana, surely this is Nirvana
Sitting here in the park above the beach
The Sun caressing my body
The gentle breeze ruffling my hair
The aromas of family barbeques being cooked
�s� laughter, dogs barking,
Teenagers playing volley ball
On the golden sparkling sands
Surfers slicing the azure waters
Dolphins riding beside them
Jumping high into the air
Performing somersaults disappearing
Only to resurface on another wave
Playing with the surfers and the waves
Yes all is right with the world I am n Nirvana
My closed eyes contemplation is disturbed
A voice with a slight upper-class accent
Is raised in annoyance....this is unacceptable
This water fountain has been broken for 4 days now
How am I supposed to get my water?
Her Mam, I have a spare bottle, please take it
A woman of an in terminate age
Looks at me for a moment
Then gingerly walks towards me
Wheeling a shopping cart
I take in her appearance
Her clothes are old fashioned
But neat and clean her hair
In a bun at the back of her head
Thank you most kind of you
Taking the bottle from me
She opens the lid and drinks
Half the contents down at one go
Chuckling, she turns to me, yes I am
I am a bag lady, isn�t that they term they use
Embarrassed at being caught
Staring at the contents of her trolley
Oh forgive me so rude I mumble
She pats my hand and an involuntary
Hand withdrawal making me even more
Embarrassed, what has come over me?
She continues on as if she had not noticed
My reaction..
People here are so kind to me
Look someone in the supermarket had broken
The box of soap and this one was all that was left
The same with the shampoo and conditioner
It has spilled and was now only half full
So Albert gave them to me.
Grinning, the prosciutto he said it was too small
He could no longer slice it
The cheese was a little old not so fresh
Yes Albert is a good man,
The milk, bread all sold to me
At a trifle with some excuse as to why,
His wife bless her kin and knowing heart
Slipped in a small bottle of deodorant
Some baby powder and a small perfume spray
Her understanding of my feminine side
I could not resist.... But the Wood,
The pieces of wood, is it for fire wood
Laughing she looked at me with
Amusement written all over her face
No I have a little project in mind
Since I lost my little cottage to vandals
When I was taken to hospital, I have
Since my discharge lived here
Here....!But this is a national park managed by the Warrnaguping indigenous council
Yes, the women�s council has been so generous.
Did you know they call me Yothu Yendghengi
When she saw the blank look upon my face
Woman who is one with mother earth
Looking at her I see an amused twinkle,
Would you like to visit my home?
Oh looking at my watch, well I err.
Her laughter washing over me
I understand, the mad bag lady might
Attack you
Feeling so annoyed with both her and myself
She was reading me like a book
I was even more furious with myself
I had always prided myself on my ability
To be non judgmental
Definitely not predijuicedd
Swallowing several times, my voice
A little croaky...
I would love to visit your home..errr
What do I call you, Oh I am Pagan by the way
Jezebel.... her face breaking into a beautiful smile
My mother loved the Bible and tried
In her own little way to be outrageous
My friends call me Jess
We commenced walking up the hill
We arrived at the hill, the entrance of
Burleigh Hill Indigenous Sacred Site
She led the way up one of the footpaths
That had been cleared for walkers
I was starting to pant after about 5 mins
Of the steep climb, Jes was happily talking
And pushing her trolley apparently not even
Raising a sweat
All of a sudden she was not there in front of me
Jes, Jes where are you, my voice raising a pitch.
As my fear registered
I heard her voice behind me, I turned quickly
Sorry luv, I forget my home entrance
Is a little hard to see
Please come back here... I look at the vista in front of me, tropical rain forest, trees, vines and large rocks
Was she having fun with me?
I tentatively started walking back towards her
My jaw dropped open, there in front of me was a wide almost tunnel like entrance
I walk slowly following her lead,
Then, there ahead of me
Is a brightly colored yellow wood en door
set in brightly painted orange door frame.
Oh my god, when I entered the cave I was speechless
Before me was a cosy spotlessly clean home,
A wood platform above the dirt,
Laying on that platform a beautiful Persian rug,
Two old sofas and a single lounge chair
Arranged along a wall and coffee table.
All three covered in a beautiful crocheted Afghans.
A butcher block and a gas 4 top portable stove,
A little fridge stood next to it,
A small generator humming away in the background.
An old dresser restored with loving care
Shelves and bookcases along the other rock wall
All overflowing with books, hard cover and soft.
A small CD and DVD player and TV receiver
A young g surfer friend, very cleaver young man
Doing a degree in it, at the local public
University at Parklands
Hooked up several generators
(Petrol run) to work my computer \
Ah you noticed my lanterns...
I prefer the soft light they give off
Would you like a coffee, I am dying for one
Unable to speak I just nodded my head
Over coffee we became friends
She relayed her story to me how she came
To be Yothu Yendghengi.
Quite a few hours later I finally left
My mind trying to cope
Trying to take in all I had seen and learned.
The hardest was my perception of
Myself lying in rubble at my feet
Here was a lady, and I mean that
In every sense of the word teaching
Me the true meaning of judgment
Prejiduce, and discrimination
Life had not been kind to her
Battering her to her knees but always
She rose again stronger and more tolerant
Than many around her
A woman who had been born into a wealthy
Affluent family some may say with silver
Spoon firmly in her mouth
To a woman who each morning
Went to the beach and caught a fish.
Yes just one as she explained
She could only eat one so why catch more
Then to scramble over the rocks
Prying fresh oysters from where they clung
The rock pools gave her baby octopus and squid...
Her net bringing in a few prawns
Cleaning all prepareing them
She would put them on to simmer
Adding fragrant native herbs
She had grown in her small Aussie native Garden..
Jes explained she had sought
Aand received permission to cultivate
A small veggie and herb garden,
Permission was also given
For her to lay traps for three Peahens and wild
Ducks and chickens that had made their homes
In the sacred national park for her personal use.
What an inspiration, I could see many hours of conversation, debate and just general
Chit chat ahead with my new extradionary
Friend
It would also give me a chance to rebuild my .
Shattered illusions of myself and hopefully
Become a more tolerant open minded woman
Like Jezebel.... a woman so comfortable in her skin
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Dancing In the Moonlight
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Posted:May 23, 2010 11:22 am
Last Updated:Nov 3, 2010 4:35 pm
4741 Views
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Huntress Moon
Sitting on her balcony she sips her baileys
She is relaxed enjoying
The smell of the ocean as she listens to
The gentles caress of the waves
Upon the rocks and sandy beach
Looking out over the pearly black waters
How beautiful she thinks
Seeing the full moon reflected
In all its grandeur on the surface of the ocean
The mythology of Ancient Greece
Flashes before her eyes
And of Diana the Goddess of the Moon
Her body feels the magnetic pull of the moon,
Her body begins to feel a tingle,
A subtle feeling of pleasure
Her body begins to vibrate
Before she knows it she is walking
Across the road to the beach
Feeling the grainy yet silky sand
Beneath her feet
Clothes are discarded
Falling hap hazzardly onto the sand.
Floating on the soft night breeze
Come the lilting sounds of pan flutes and lyres
She cannot deny her body and its need to dance
Twirling twisting swaying sensual abandonment
Her body is alive, with sexual energy
Vibrating like a fine Stradivarius violin
Faster and faster until she falls
Exhausted onto the shore
Her body writhing in sexual ecstasy.....
Her eyes are closed until
She feels the caress of soft fingers
A molten tongue caressing her
Eyes fly open and a soft cry of pleasure issues
She has no fear only feelings
Of intense joy and harmony
As she gazes s on the face
A beautiful face of a silver haired woman
Pagan feels the caresses upon her breasts
Opening herself to the questing fingers
And tongue the burning caress of the tongue
The heat is balanced by the cool waters
Of the ocean waves lapping around and over them...
Her body arches, she moans, and whimpers
Till at last her body convulses
Her organism claiming her
Taking her to another plane of existence
Where only pleasure dwells
Maybe she slept
Maybe she lapsed into unconsciousness...
She only know she is alone now on the beach
Yet there is no sadness no emptiness
Only Joy and total fulfilment
Slowly she rises to her feet
Gathers her clothes
Not bothering to put them on
Walks naked back to her home....
In a trance like state she showers,
Oils her body, making it soft and subtle
And fragrant for she knows deep in her soul
Diana came to her tonight and claimed her
From this night on she will be her devoted subject....
She slips beneath the cool sheets still smiling
Knowing tomorrow night once more she will dance
Her moon dance and worship its goddess
And once more know the sensual and exotic touch
Of Diana, Moon Goddess....huntress....
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