We talk so much about entitled

Our entitled youth,

No need to work,

No need to learn,

Life is a smorgasboard of offers.

There is choice in what they study

There is choice in if they work

Each night and morn there is food galour

Clothes doth magically appear

And worn out ones disappear

Every so often rooms get cleaned out

So new stuff can appear

But I wonder how our youth would go

If it was all to disappear?

What if, what happens for the few

Happened for the masses?

What if the safety net evaporated?

How would our youth handle

Coming home one day

The fridge, freezer and pantry bare

The fruit bowl mysteriously empty?

How would they handle finding food?

Would they even know how to get it?

And if they could miraculously get money to go and buy it,

What would they do when they made it home?

Would they know how to cook it?

And what if there was no furniture

No bed to lie their head on

No computers or technlogy

No money left to play with

How would entitled youth survive?

What skills do they have to rely on?

An interesting experiement

And if this happened to me.

It’d take me about 3 months

To get the vege patch to thrive

So I guess that I’d be on a rapid weight loss diet.



The power of good music

A jaunty tune

lifts the mood

from glum and sad

to fun.

A mellow sound

a slice of Jazz

Brass sounds bright

Sax played right.

The tinkle of a picollo

The sound of ivory playing

A happy little triangle

A snare softly snaring

The change of pitch

The upbeat pace

How can you now be unhappy

Just listen too the bright fun tune

And now the world is better

An uplifting song

Fills every space

Your brain can’t fit bad thoughts in

And now your smile is genuine

It lights up in your eyes

Just remember when you are done

The power of good music.


I have a visitor today

I really do feel quite sorry

For busy is a busy does

And we can’t be more busy than today.

We’ve study, shopping, picking up kids

Cooking, baking and back to school

Exams are coming up for the students

Reporting for the teacher

I’ve got groceries to do

And washing in the basket too.

I feel so rude

I cannot find

A little bit of precious time

She’s come a ways

And normally wants to chat

But it turns out the visit was rather flat

My worry about my big long to dos

Was a waste of time and effort

On arrival our visitor unloads her bag

And promptly heads out the back

“I’m a little weary, I’ll just have a rest.”

At dinner did she present herself.

A good chat we all had

Then she excused herself again and headed back to the spare room shed.

She said Goodbye on Monday morn

Thanked us for the food and bed

And said she was quite happy

Not to stop and chat awhile

But she had wanted just to sleep and not to have a catch up.




An old woman lies waiting

Waiting for death

Her mind gone before her

Her body is left.

She functions each day

Repetition gets her through

She repeats each cycle

There is naught left to do.

Eventually her body

Will catch up with her mind

But until then it’s simple

We need to treat her just fine.

She has travelled a journey

Of days I cannot count

Seasons and seasons

Built up an account

She draws from it now

As death looms quite near

We remember her younger

When she did things dear

She taught me to cook

The most amazing chocolate cake

And as for the card games

She was quite a snake

Sneaky and tricky

She’d ocassionally let us win

And on the piano

That piano she made sing.

She was my grandmother

My nanna most dear




My Mum

Mothers are amazing

They really are quite great

That is of course if you are lucky

To get one that makes fine cakes.

My mother used to bake

And decorate each year

One cake for each of us four

A birthday cake most dear

There was a Dolly Varden

And the mouse ran up the clock

Holly Hobby loomed quite larger there

And I guess there was a train

But more I don’t remember

And for that it is a shame.

Her talents did not stop there

She used to make us clothes

Fancy dresses, simple shorts

A quilt for each of us.

Then there was the pikelets

On a cold winter’s afternoon.

We’d come in red faced from riding

All the way from school

Hot pikelets on the chopping board

Butter and jam ready to go.

They were the best afternoons

Pity there was no snow.

She often used to stop and play

Instead of clean the house

And a common phrase for all of us

Was “Have you hugged your child today?”

Hugs were freely given,

Love and lots of food.

She didn’t stop her mothering

When we got out of school

She upped the anti and edited

University assignments

20 000 word thesis’

My mum was pretty darned cool.

A packed lunch required

I like to go out driving

In what Australian’s call a forest

It’s scragy and it’s scruffy

Clumped grass and stringy barks.

Our forest is on a dam edge

And some mornings it looks quite nice

But in the heat of an Australian summer

Or at the end of a long dry winter

Our bush is not that glamourous

It’s a dry and crackly fire risk

Or a wet and muddy path

We have a joke out here in Oz

About our Kangaroos

And the clumpy grasses that struggle to grow

Underneath our tall gum trees

We often say as we are driving past

A wallaby would have to take a packed lunch

To live in that bush or to even just pass through.


via Daily Prompt: Forest


My feet feel like they’ve walked 1000 miles

In shoes made of inch thick lead.

The load they feel they’ve carried

Is often in my head.


I am so often envious

Of people who can let things fly

It seems to me that unlike some others

I carry loads that I cannot let die.


I worry about some stupid things

Things I cannot control

I toss and turn and squirm

Thoughts tunnelling in to brain like a mole.



I worry too much about my students

And how they fare at night

The empty of love table

Of all the bad things that might


I sometimes give to much of me

To those who do not care

And some I wish I could take home

And parent them, I wish I dared.


The tales that could be told

Of students struggling to find

A life that they can live

A life that is just a little kind.


These stories I do carry

And it is not good for me

I try to let the stories go

But they will not leave me be.

Scatty vs ADHD

My brain flits there

My brain flits here

My brain travels to another thought

I’ll start one thing

And before I know it

I’ve moved on to do another.

I cannot seem to focus

The world is much to bright

A movie to watch

A book to read

A poem I must write

And all the while I struggle

To focus and complete one task

I so often wonder if it’s just scatty brain I have

Or perhaps something more serious

Something diagnosable

But in order to get diagnosed

I’d have to concentrate

So I guess that I’ll just soldier on

And wonder way too much

About my scatty flitty brain

Whose focus jumps too often

And try again to focus it

On a task

Worked through to completion.

Calm after the storm

There is a time I like the best

It’s such a peaceful time

The sky’s been very violent

It’s shook up trees and spooked the birds

It’s ripped out shrubs and unfortunate roofs

It’s cleaned the sky of polution

After the storm

The sky is clear

The light is different

Almost a golden hue

The sun you see

Peaks through a crack

The storm clouds spent and wasting

It’s late afternoon.

This is my favourite time

To sit and enjoy the chill

Fresh air, nice light

And peace.

Everything and every one breathing deep before they count the cost

Of the storm that shook the air clear.


The rain is coming down

In gentle patering droplets

It’s hiting on the tin roof

It’s hitting on the ground

The rain is coming down

In delicate little droplets

It’s wetting my washing

It’s wetting my new plants

The rain is coming down

In peaceful rhythmic patterns

It’s calming down the children

It’s calming me to sleep.