My true heros

A hero inspires visions of grand and really strong men

Of Wonder Woman and Super Girl

Of capes, hammers and of big green men.

Alas these are only fiction

For I really wouldn’t mind

A big green man or a Thor and Hammer

Walking me into mine.

Heros come in different forms

Than those portrayed above

A hero may be a small boy, staying home from school to defend his Mum.

A hero may be a child who turns up at school day after day, struggling to learn to read, persistently trying each and every day.

A hero may be a co-worker, who keeps on plodding on, putting aside personal hardship to help a small someone.

A hero may be a person who just keeps going on – one foot in front of the other, until the day is done.

A hero may be a soldier who runs into a fight, A hero may be a police officer struggling to keep those drugged in line.

A hero may be a paramedic, a nurse, a doctor, a firefighter – they all put one foot in front of the other and get their jobs done right.

But for me the most amazing heros are those that do not complain, their quiet calm acceptance of everything life throws their way.

These people do not give up –

they just keep on going on

keep on walking forward.

These heros are – for me – the true ones.

The door to education

The door to education

is not that hard to find.

Thousands of people daily

Stand waiting there to guide.

So why is it that some ignore it,

And some struggle to acquire

Then there are the ones

That formal education is against.

The keepers of these learnings

Are not exactly what you think.

I teach maths and science

Yet do not know how to unblock a sink.

So thank you to those keepers

In all our many forms

That help the world to study

And generate the links

that mean acquiring knowledge

Is a societal norm.

too scared to live

I do not know what you hide

You only show so much

I can tell you are troubled

I can tell you reasons why

Did your mother hit you this morning?

Did you actually have food at home?

Did your father take your medicine – that helps you concentrate?

Your brother’s now your sister

Your mother – she moved out

Your father – you never knew him

You live with an Aunt and Grandma

At least there is a roof;

Your mother refuses to see you

She cancels every trip;

You hide out in the skate park

It’s safer than your house.

You never learnt to read

You feared those frightful sounds

Your brain was in survival

No learning to be found.

Every noise in that classroom

A potential threat

Every smile can hide a hand

That’s coming up to hit.

You spent the day petrified

That you would find no one at home.

You spent the week horrified

Only moldy hunks unrecognizable in the fridge.

You spent the month wondering

If the police would raid your house.

What is the point of learning

When you are too scared to live


My day is long, yet boring,

Focus – I cannot

I’d rather be at home reading,

Work – anything but!

I have a long to do list

Yet nothing is inspired

I tick long box after long box

Dying slowly inside.

Breaks again

There are days I cannot handle

The stories just repeat

Students with disabilities

So damned hard to teach.

I am not talking adds and multiplies

Or the ins and outs of poetry

I’m talking about how students know

That they deserve more.

These students with ASD

Do not understand the simple things

Of what is right and what is wrong

And what is simply not to be done.

My heart has broken too many times

I do not know when is the line

To stop, because I cannot.

I try my best each and every day

To make a difference in any way

Yet the same bad stories

Play and play

And my heart breaks again.

BuCket List Item Done

My masters is complete

I’ve wanted it for years

It started as an MBA

When I was just around ten.

I made it through my schooling

My MBA far ahead

I did a Bachelor of Science

And I thought my dream was dead

I went back a couple of decades later

And got a Graduate Diploma.

The dream once more remembered.

Roll forward years and indecisions

An MBA no longer fit

But smiles all round

I had a plan with a Masters in it.

And not but two years later

I have finally done it.

It’s the little things

I am alone

Yet I am not

I am lonely

Yet I am not

I am worried

Constantly worried

And I am tired of it all.

The pressures of living

Close in, in my brain

It’s not the big things

Those I cannot control

It’s the little things that bother me now.

Fruitlessly attempting to study

I drift off to dream land

Yet another time

I started to study

The readings were dry

My head jerks awake

As it falls on my chest

My eyes blink excessively

Fruitlessly at best

I attempt again

To read academic scripts

But the deep dark sanctum

Of sleep; rolls other clips.


When cleaning out the house

There are many treasures to behold

Long forgotten memories

Helping to shape the future mould.

Insidious Weed

Insidious weed

Come to stay

Invaded the place

In just one day.