It’s 8:24pm
On a week day holiday night
I’m tucked up in my newly made bed
Sore feet resting up for tomorrow’s plight.
They’ve been sore for a good three weeks now
And they will for another few days delight
With their pain and their aching symptoms
Until the doctor gets a sight.
I used to have calm holidays
Time to take lots of care
But now I am studying
That time has slipped else where.
Why do I work all day
Family in the afternoon
Study for 3 hours each night?
Turn out the light exhausted
And promptly drift to sleep?
I wonder why each night
As I set up for my effort
Dragging my tired brain
Logging on to an online lecture
In person, lectures often
Sent me off to quiet dream time
Now I am voluntarily .
Logging on, with no one to see
Sound on mute
Eyes struggling to stay open
Camera on, just so that I cannot fall asleep.
Why do I put myself through this nightly?
A bucket list idea,
I simply want a Masters, not a PhD!
The truth,
I enjoy the study
Despite the weary eyes
Learning new information
New fasinating ideas
Broadening the mind
Challenging perspectives
Getting that grey matter
To seek out ways to improve
It’s sometimes much more fun
Than that fortnightly paycheck
So tomorrow, I’ll look forward
To the next topic on the list
And I guess I’ll keep on studying
A bit longer now at least.
Queensland,
She is burning
Both on the ground and in the air.
100 plus bush fires devouring
Any grass tree or gum in their paths.
Up and down the coast line
From Brisbane down south,
To way north of Cairns,
Smoke haze fills the sky.
Almost 7000 km available to burn
In this most unusual heatwave
That’s sucking water from everywhere.
Normally at this time of year,
Yes Queensland’s all a swelter
We bitch and moan and hide out
In our refrigerated air.
The humidity is something fierce
Sweat pours out of all our skin
And drips in the most uncomfortable
Places – it can be embarrassing.
This time, it’s some what different
The weather’s in reverse
There is no clouds to mar the sky
No welcome fall of rain
The humidity is so very low
It is just pure and burning heat.
Bring back some gastly humidity
To bring the rain and it’s relief.
We have this thing in Aus,
This thing that we call Nippers
And every Sunday for 6 months
The beaches are crowded
Aged from ankle biting
To teenage sauve and sophisticated
These fluro pink vested kids
Jump up and run for Flags
They sprint the beach
They swim through waves
They perform mock tube rescues
Their leaders point them into surf
And back out again for fun.
These fearless kids
Learn all sorts
From swimming to first aid.
These groups of kids that pack the sand
They are our surf life saving “Nippers”.
For those not from Australia – “kids” is a colloquial word for children and “nippers” is another Aussie term for children (usually the smaller variety).
The wind
Strong,
From the west
Dust and heat
It carries.
Flares tempers
At the end of year
Many changes
Fast approaching
Comfort
Pushed
Out the door
New comforts
Yet to find
Busy
Pressure
Mounts
Students erupt
Feeding off tension
Or just tired.
3 weeks left
So much to do
One step in front of the other
Reign in that temper
We are all the same
Tired, busy
Stressed
Next year will bring
Comfort once more
New friendships will be defined
New traditions developed
New doorways to find
2019
It will be fine.
It’s rocking on to end of year
We’re all getting a little tired
The aches and pains are catching up
The marking pile grows higher
The last competition of the year
Awards nights, arts, sports and academic
The year 12 students are almost out the door
The 10s and 11s to follow soon after
And when the doors shut on the last day
It’s not a day of exhaustion
Parties visits intersect with next years preparation
I really like my doctor
Her acent is devine
She used to be not busy
Now to see her there is a line.
I have wonderful friends
They are bright and kind and cheerful
Spending time with them
Makes my dramas fade away
It is always fanastic
To catch up with distant folk
The ones that mean so much to me
That tolerate my remotes
I can get quite isolated
Not by force but by my choice
I find I need my me time
After dealing with so many folk
By the end of term I am drained
Empty of brains and emotions
The thought of conversations
Stimulating or other kinds
Just leaves me hollow and sunken
A shell with nothing inside.
I force myself to be social
To not cut off friends dear
But I can admit to dreading
Visits from these friends I fear.
One day it will be different
One day I’ll look forward to with love
And passion and excitement
but for now
Finding conversation of any kind is hard
To string the words together
Coherence I fail to find.
My friends from way back in high school
Were such an accepting bunch
I have never really told them
How much this meant to me
That I could take my time outs
To do what I needed to
To study, to sit, to write,
To be my introvert.
Then,
One day after a couple of months
Of self imposed solitude
I’d pick up the old hand phone
And call them up to join
Whatever their latest adventure.
They’d welcome me back with open arms
Never questioning me nor quizzing
On why I left them hanging two long months ago.
I’ve always wanted a Masters
Of what, I did not care.
I’ve dreamed and looked up courses
And plotted as I dared.
Now I’ve finally started.
Two assignments in.
The joy has started to wear – a little thin.
I still quite like the study
I love reading and research
And happily I’ll type notes
Write notes
Re-interpret
My problem is another one
Work and life get in the road
When I want to study
I have to be at work or down the road
It’s harder than I thought
Finding the time for me
To let my brain delve deeply
Into reading difficulties.
Children should be loved
And cherished
Their life a happy playground
Their problems should be small or smaller
Food always on the table
Oh No!
I forgot to clean my room
I did not eat my veges
I climbed atop the trampoline
And fell into my parent’s arms
All was well, I broke a bone
But love was all around me.
That’s the childhood I always knew
Until I started teaching
And even after many years
You still come across a story
That makes you ache deep in your heart
And try to help another.
Too sad the story I have to tell
To raw to let the reader know it
Perhaps one day,
With some distance
I’ll tell this young child’s tale
But not today
And not tomorrow
For this child is still living in the story
And there is no fairy tale ending.
I know a child
Not yet a teenager
Of life she has seen plenty.
I wish that it was fun and fairies
Frollicking fancies out on prairies.
Alas
As I look into her eyes
Past aging makeup on her face
I see a child who’s seen too much
Who knows nothing except
Feeling unsafe
