Curlew, Screaming Lady

Curlew Cry,

Screaming Lady

How do you confuse the two

If you know the curlew Cry

You know it’s not the screaming Lady


For those who don’t

Fear strikes deep

Heart rushes

Eyes open

Where to launch the rescue

“Don’t be silly,”

A wise man says

“It’s just a curlew”

Heart relaxes


The next time

A curlew’s call

Catches you



I can’t stop

I write when I want to

I write when I don’t

For if I don’t write

I’ll give anyone a fight.


But sometime regardless

Of my creative mood

The words don’t come out

From my brain

And I’ll pout


Several minutes later

Fruitlessly I’d searched

For the words and the stories

In an empty canvas

That is alot like Dory’s


And it is times like these

I wonder,

Just why I write at all

And then I recall


The simple fact

Of my life

Is that I cannot stop

I cannot stop at all.

Childlike Innocence

There is much in this world we despise

Innocence in an adult is one

We want to stamp out that creative spark

Those winsome characteristics of child

As children get older we start with the rules

Reading, writing and arithmetic

Slowly we bleed their immagination

Creativitity is lost

As adults they become


via Daily Prompt: Winsome

Lonesome Shell

Lonesome shell

Sad and empty

No one home

No more home to be

Victim of waves

And storms

And pirate

Sea creatures

Too big for thee.


Broken home


What purpose



Soothing form

Future sand

No waste from the sea.

I wonder

I often wonder how

Long this world can last

We strip the trees

We strip the ocean

Then fill the world with garbage


And to it’s credit

Gaia takes it all

Churns out some organic matter

But when we started

Making plastics

It’s like the world did not matter


And now our oceans

Feed our fish

Small plankton like

Pieces of plastic

I wonder just how

Viable this life is.

Stormy Skies

Storms roll and darken the sky

Once crystal clear oceans

Traverse from green to gray

Waves want to crash

The storm has other ideas

Created over  land

It has no power over the sea.

These are the men

We focus too much on the negatives.

We focus too much on the bad.

1 in 4 men are bastards.

By definition, 3 in 4 are not.

I have a son,

bombarded every day

by media portraits of bastards.

But most men, the men I live with,

the men I work with,

the men I know well

These men are good and kind.


These are the men we should be showing

These are the men we should be modelling.

These are the men that will stand by their loved ones, year after year.

These are the men who play with their children

These are the men who know how to work

These are the men who hold you when you need it

These are the men who do what is right.

These are the men who should be roll modelled

These are the men who make mistakes

These are the men who laugh with their children

These are the men who make dinner each night

These are the men that turn up to performances

No matter how tired, no matter how time poor.

These are the men, the majority.

These are the men that we should show our teens.

These are the men that they should strive to be

Are these men perfect?

No, nor are we, and that’s fine.  Just know

these are the men.

That’ll Do

Screaming Baby

Fed, burped, nappy

No clue

Give a cuddle

That’ll do!


Grizzly Baby

Have you played

Had a bath, done a poo

Change your nappy

That’ll Do!


Sleepy baby

Won’t close her eyes

No Idea

Leave to cry

That’ll do!


Happy baby

Bright blue eyes

Rosy cheeks

Where’s that smile

We love you too!

Baby girl clip art


Reservation is a musical word

When I say it I want to sing

Yet the meaning is quite bland

To book something in.

I could have reservations

About an event to which I must go

Or I could make reservations

For a course where I want to sew

None of this changes the fact

That I myself am reserved

Slow to join in to activities

Slow to speak up to be heard.

via Daily Prompt: Reservation

You just don’t hear the wind

In the desert,

You smell rain so clear,

See colors so bright,

Taste dust so thick

Feel heat so hot

You just,

Don’t hear the wind


You just,

Don’t hear the wind


It’s there, you know it

And mostly you feel it

You just can’t hear it

Ladden with dust

But yes wind is there


You just

Don’t hear the wind.