Scruffy Pizza

One exhausting Friday night

We succumbed to take out.

And as we waited our turn in line

The fish shop was invaded.

A father with three under four

Was valiantly entertaining and educating

His young mob.

He’d mastered the art of distraction

Taught numeracy and language

Complete with one child on his hip and one child on each hand.

Another family did arrive

This time Grandpa and two tikes

These youngsters entertained themselves with spending Grandpa’s cash.

A mother taught her daughter how

To pop those plastic straws.

And another turned up with two children and a pup

All of whom were under 5.

The dog obviously did not go in

To collect the dinner prize

That was left up to the under fives.

They problem solved their hearts out

As to how to carry their load

Until the mother could rescue it

Complete with dog in tow

And as they walked off to their home

Both children could see

The mother struggling with the dog and balancing their tea

“Can I walk Scruffy Pizza Mum,”

Pipes up the child of three.




Warm pavement
Cold shadows
Hot sun

Cool breezes
Crisp skies
Bright light

Clustered flowers
Graceful grass stalks

Gorgeous sunsets
Pale pink moonrise
Soft dawn

Chirping birds
Silent insects
Leaping Lizards

Camels, cows
Horses too
Dingos, rats
And mice
Desert animals
Desert deaths

Harsh hot
Cold frosts
Dry Dry

The Carolina Reaper

Sometimes a day of teaching

Is heart wrenching or worse

And sometimes the job of teaching

Really has it’s perks


A group of lads and lasses, and everyone inbetween

Decided on a challenge

Eating chillies so it seemed.

They did not decide on Jalapeno

Nor the hot Ghost pepper,

No for this little prank – nothing but the best

The Carolina Reaper.


2.2 million units of hotness

Tends to do some damage

Red lips and lots of spitting out

But that is not the funny.




Unfortunately these kids were completely unaware

Of the dangers of hand to surface transferance

And after spitting and scrapping out the chilli

Did not venture near

A tap – no hand washing yet occured.

And here the story goes down or up depending on your view point

For some unknown reason

Perhaps another bet

The boys suffered a case of chilli transferance
On discovering the problem

A fellow bright spark piped up

“Milk is good with chillis, takes away the heat”

Thus the group of teens

Showed some what clever initative

And aquired some unsuspecting bottles

Of chocolate flavoured milk.


The teacher of playground duty

Had a smile wider than a mile

And when they could finally speak

Described the scene inside.


Inside the disabled bathroom, that was out of bounds

A group of boys were summarily found

Soaking some anatomy in the flavoured milk


The Carolina Reaper

On male private parts it seems

Is not a challenge that anyone should redeem.


Tears falling

The tears fall in brief gushes

Blurring my vision

Thoughts reluctantly surface

I don’t want to think.

The questions storm in fast-flowing eddies

I write instead of getting balancing sleep.

Why are my hormones playing up like a teenager’s

Why can I not hold onto a babe?

What has happened since the birth of my first child

That’s made me this terrible imbalanced such that I cannot carry a babe.

I got the new haircut

I got the new clothes

I got rid of the junk from my life

Isn’t all that meant to make you feel better

Isn’t all that the way to get the results you are after

According to the guru’s that is so.

Declutter your life,

Give yourself a change

Gamble a bit

Get happy again

Then things will fall

Into your happy place,

Good energy will start to flow.

Bullshit I say

What crap are you talking

I’ve done all that and here I am

At 4am on a summer’s morning

Tears falling in short bursts down a tired, wet face.

The irony of Iron

I attempt to eat quite healthily

It doesn’t always work.

The body acts quite stealthily

And some unseen issues lerk.

I take myself off to the Doc

To get poked and prodded

Four blood tests later and and what a knock,

My thyroid’s fine, the hormone is working

I am getting enough sun

But in a grand and humorous gesture

Iron’s down, I’m quite anemic.

Previously, I revamped my diet

To incorporate more fish.

So how do I get my daily iron  – a whopping 18mg per day

When I need to eat lots of fish?

“Wholegrain cereal,” my doc suggests

“Just don’t have it with dairy.”

“Add some liver – oh 200g per day is quite a lot.”

Yep – Liver my not so favorite offal

Just might cause a diet reshuffle to topple.

You see – us women of child rearing age are well and truly stuffed.

Unless we sit down and eat duck liver pate for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

There is almost no humane way to eat our required daily iron.



I had a meeting the other day

Whose sole purpose was to pave the way

To set the date for another one

Agenda to be decided when the next was done.

Displeasing me

I live in fear

Of being Me

Of letting myself be

Who I want to be.

I live my life

Through others rules

I cannot do

What I want to do.

I cannot teach

How I want to teach

I cannot speak my mind.

None of this is about anyone else

People do not censor me

I am allowed to dress my way

I am allowed to say what I want to say.

I cannot do these things I want

It is an internal failing.

So strong I hate to displease

That I end up displeasing me.

Day One again

Every time I start a plan

I plan to improve my fitness

This time I’ll be better at it.

I won’t do this or fall for fads

I’ll simply change my diet,

Add a bit of exercise

An extra peice of fruit

No more will I buy fresh veges

And throw them out – past their prime

They won’t last that long because I will eat them all for dinner.

This must be my hundreth Day One

But I could always be lying

I’ve started fitness plans before

And they usually last for a week or more

Before they fall through the floor.

This time, I promise myself

With a lot less motivation

This time is the last first day of the rest of my life

This time I stick right too it.

The let down

That feeling after the tenterhooks

That feeling of complete depression

The one that saps the energy

The one that drains

The one that makes all thoughts so hard

That is the feeling.


You work so hard

You bust your guts

You fight for others constantly

You make mistakes

You try your best

And then when you can do no more

You are way past your limit

You give up, disappointed

You did not do what you set out to do

But you give in to the disappointment

That is the feeling of the let down

Knowing that the outcome

Stays the same regardless.

Leave it at the Bridge

There is a bridge

On my way home

And it’s where I leave my thoughts

The bad and not so good ones.


You see I have taught for many a year

In tough schools that no one’s heard of.

I’ve taught the rough, the hungry and homeless

I’ve taught the ones with nothing.

And when the stories get to much I give myself a talking

“Leave it at the bridge.”


Sometimes it is not about the kids.

But about the adults I work with

I always take them at face value

I do not see deceit in words or in their actions.

Thus today I am somewhat disappointed

And tonight I struggle to leave it at the bridge.