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.


I wonder


I wonder how long I have left in me

To be on the go

To talk constantly

To put myself out there

Out of my comfort zone

Constantly forcing myself to grow

Constantly forcing a challenge.

I wonder how long

I can keep going

How long

How many more years

How many more job descriptions

I wonder how long

Til what I do is enough



I flee exhausted

I am tired and exhausted

And it’s only the start of Term 2

This teaching gig is getting kind of tough.

I bust my guts

Day in day out

And seem to fight the undefeatable

I am tired and exhausted

It’s not yet 7pm

I could curl up before dinner

And let the tireness win.

The days seem to repeat

An endless cycle of the same

And I know that seems quite strange

Teaching changes day to day

I turn up at 7ish am

And rush relentlessly

Even if I stop for lunch, even if I take a pee

I rush, I rush, I rush some more

Until I flee exhausted.

I return home nothing left in the bank

To turn around and do it all again.


The leap to study is quite daunting

For those who have not done it before.

Give up your income

Give up your job

Spend 4 years not working much at all

Give up your weekends

Reading peer reviewed articles

Try not to sleep through another lecture.

Jump through this hoop

Jump through another

Breathe a big sigh of relief

Holidays – Yeah

One year passes

Then another and another

Oh crap it’s the final year

At the end of this year –  your plan might not pan out

What will you do?

What will you do?

The questions swim around and around

The fears rise, the nerves, the unknown

The search for suitable jobs to apply.

Here’s one, here’s another, and another and another.

Surely someone will want you.


I am defeated

As I sit here on a morning

Before the day has really hit

I am peaceful but I’m sad

Thinking of the kids I’ve missed.

I know I cannot do it all

That I can only reach a few

But I think of the students

Who flew on courses unprotected

To fly out of the school

Suspended yet again

Who we knew of the hardships

But what were we do do?

Teachers cannot control the world

We only have the classroom,

Playground maybe, lunchroom too

We cannot do much about homelife.

And when a child is so wrapped up

In the crap that happens there

To battle through the concrete walls

The re-enforced steel plating

We can but chip, and chip away

Providing what we hope

Are positives and a bit of light

But something more we cannot do

The wall is tall and deep and thick

The lining just as wicked

A child locked up inside their mind

My hammer and chissle are defeated.


The ones I rarely talk of

Teaching has a heavy toll

It’s one I rarely speak of.

It’s not the tiredness

It’s not the work load

It’s certainly not my colleagues.


Teaching has a heavy toll

It’s hidden behind our smiles

It’s deep within our hearts

Touching us deep inside.


Teaching has a heavy toll

It’s in the faces

In front of us.


Some smile

Some sit

Some act up

You can’t always pick it,

But hidden beheath

The young facade

Are stories that make your heart bleed.


The parent who won’t take a child to get perscription glasses

The over crowded houses where there is no privacy

The child who protects his sibblings from the big DV

The child who is never told they are loved

The child sold for a sex ring

The child who lives with a friend of a friend because biology doesn’t want her

The child who had no food to eat for three days because her mother wasn’t hungry

The child who’s father gave her up – he couldn’t afford to keep her

The child that struggles every day to hide their illiteracy

The child that just lost two parents

I could go on for lines and lines

And never hit the end

Some stories bad

Some stories worse

These kids all have something in common

Each day they get right out of bed and put on their uniform

Then they walk right out their door and make it to their school

And then they hide behind

Their smile,

Their quietness

Or their rude behaviour

These children are the hidden toll

These children are the ones I dwell on

Someone it seems should do it.

These children take a heavy toll,

They rarely know anything different.

These children are the ones I rarely talk of.



A moment of pure delight

Sunset across an urban water supply

Probably doesn’t sound so poetic

but despite our urban roadways

Our pavements and our driveways

We can find beautful visions a plenty.

A patch of moss clinks to cement

A flower fights through pavement

A potplant and a pet cat, enjoy the warm spring sunshine.

Beauty hides out, in plain sight

Just waiting for you to find it

It simply takes a simple walk

A bike ride or game of football

Beauty waits and pounces

In a moment of pure delight.