20151217: How to throw a tantrum (for grown ups!)

How to throw a tantrum (For grown-ups)

Firstly, wake up in a bad mood,

And refuse any offers of food;

Let your blood sugar level reduce,

Then find the perfect excuse.

You'll need to pick a fight;

But don't make it too light -

A sulk is sufficient for little things

Keep important things for tanty throwing

Pick your fight and make it loud;

So even your grand kids 'd be proud -

Argue and whinge, bicker and whine,

Build to a crescendo; it'll take time.

Once you've said all you can say,

Finish abruptly. Call it a day;

Put your mouth in a pout;

Look cranky and really put out.

Find a spot to pass the time;

One where others will keep you in mind.

You want them to know what you're doing;

Otherwise why bother with tanty throwing?

You mustn't speak a word at all;

You must keep them all in thrall -

They mustn't know what you intend,

You must punish their impudence.

Rebuff all pleas for conversation,

Or even for compensation.

Refuse offers of nourishment,

There must be complete chastisement.

Once you've finished your reading,

Watched a movie or  rubbishy TV,

Had a nap and called a friend;

Now's the time to call an end.

Tanty's finished, all is done -

You've had your say and won.

It's been a tiring day, once all's said;

So, dinner, bath, and off to bed. 

17 December 2015 

20151214: Love Should Be A Thing You Do

Love Should Be A Thing You Do

Love should be a two way game -

I've said this again and again;

Love should be a thing you do,

Not just a thing you say.

But I'm beginning to believe -

I've come to accept -

That you don't know 

How it goes.

So why do you want to change me,

Control me, direct how I think and dress?

With whom did you fall in love -

The real me or the one you want to possess?

Do you really want a wife

Who is depressed and distressed 

At the misery of her life?

And you'd use the threat of leaving

To keep me obedient;

But every day you'd say those words

You cried wolf so often -

It had the effect of softening 

The impact of the threat -

So when you actually carried it through,

I was glad to see the last of you!!

My eyes have been opened,

My hearing has been sharpened,

By watching and listening to you,

I was immensely disheartened 

By your corruption

Of the meaning of love.

You've burnt too many bridges,

Cried wolf too many times,

Threatened, blustered, nagged,

Sulked and abused;

But now it has no impact.

It merely amuses -

Because, as I say, again,

Love should be a two way game. 

14 Dec 2015

20151122: Time, A Song

A man stood on the hillside,

King of all he surveyed;

But t'was of no matter:

Time came and took him away, 

oh, away!

People come and people go,

Life goes on as always;

But yet as we know:

Time conquers all as we decay,

 oh, hey!

Time has its companions,

The seasons, life, and death;

So with each and every breath:

Time and its friends carry us away,

ah lack-a-day!

Time's companions dance,

To the beat and the sway;

Of the sound of the passing of time:

No matter they try to change the way,

tick-tock tick-tay!

Time can't be changed,

Time can't be stopped;

Time has no remorse:

Time takes us all, come the day,

Oh, Time takes us all come the day!

22 November 2015

20150812: Love Should Be a Two Way Game

Gladly I will go to the Gates of Hell
And back again, if you so wish:
But think, my love, before you agree -
It may not be as simple as this.

The road to Hell is paved with glass,
Wouldn't you rather I walked on grass?
The Gates of Hell are far away,
Wouldn't you rather I stay?
I would be gone for some time,
Wouldn't you rather be by my side?
But should I need to go so far or so long,
Just to keep you here where you belong?

Love should be a two way game,
With no balancing of guilt or blame -
So when we walk side by side,
There is no need to keep in step.
Just don't ask me to provide
Evidence of  promises kept.
When has love been so solidly a thing,
That I need to prove my loving you?

12 August 2015

20151105: The Melbourne Cup

Every first Tuesday of November,
For as long as we can remember -
One hundred fifty four years 
(To be exact) -
We have this horse race
That stops the nation,
Such a commotion
Over 24 horses
Running over an interminable course!
Every contestant must qualify
By winning another “Cup”,
And every one of them is examined
Minutely from hocks to withers up;
As odds shorten and lengthen
And the odds-on favourite strengthens,
As excitement builds for the Melbourne Cup. 

The fillies in the stands strut and simper,
Dressed in their very best dresses,
And wearing silly hats,
All the while with a whimper
As their heels sink in the grass,
All the while gritting their teeth in pain
For wearing summer clothes in the cold and rain,
All whilst holding a tiny glass
Of the obligatory bubbly champers.

In every office and factory,
Usually full of industry -
No one’s about, they’re all out,
All tools down to watch the race,
And drink a beer or cheap sparkling wine,
While the girls wear silly hats
And stand around and chat,
And pretend they’re actually there;
And tell each other they don't know nothing 
About the race, they’ve never placed 
A bet in their life - while the office boy
Spends the day running down the lane
To place absurd bets on the favourite
At the local totalisator - all part of the game!

And, usually the favourite wins,
And everyone shrugs and grins;
While my neighbour gives 
A blow by blow description 
Of his temporary gambling addiction. 

But this year something different
Came to shake the firmament 
Of our comfortable tradition:
An outsider took the lead
At a hundred to one on!
(The jockey a female - shock! horror!)
And won.

A women! jockey! riding in the Cup -
On a horse bought for nothing, too.
But she won, against the odds,
And this is what she said
In her impromptu victory speech:
To those who doubted her:
Get stuffed; because women can do anything
And we can beat the world!.

So I will always remember 
this first Tuesday of November!

5 November 2015

20151112: My Were and I

One day a long time ago now
I was hijacked. By a werewolf.
I couldn't make him go;
And of course he wouldn't want to,
Would he?

So we settled into life together,
Werewolf and I -
His name is Lupus, by the way.
At first I sometimes forgot
He was there at all,
But there was quite a lot
For me to learn about Lupus.

At first he just nibbled here and there.
I knew to take care
Not to upset him,
But as we both grew older
He became hungrier, bolder -
His nibbles became bites,
So I decided to fight.

I fought Lupus with poison,
With toxins, with everything
And anything I could get.
And yet, still he survived.
So now he takes bites,
And ignores werewolf rules
To stay out of sight.

The were is a shapeshifter;
As is Lupus -
He changes from one thing
To another, always wandering;
But always coming back;
As if he loves me.
But it is not love that drives his return -
His desire for my soul, my self, burns
In his want for me. 

He plans to kill me, I realise,
He takes too much of me;
For now we are locked together,
I can only ponder
The question of whether
Lupus will kill me quickly, kindly,
Or cruelly string it out.

Of course, Lupus doesn't know 
I have a plan, and I'll take care,
I'll know when it's time to go:
I have the means now -
I'm taking him with me 
I know the only way to kill a were.

12 November 2015

20151110: Do You Love Me Because

Do I love you 
because you love me?
Love songs suggest it's true;
But I say nay -
I would prefer
it were the other way:
That you love me 
while I love you!

10 Noivember 2015

20151114: Limitless

I can see forever
High cliff and far horizon
The sun sees further

14 November 2015

20151121: I'm So Sorry

I'm sorry, I'm sorry
If I've made you mad
And I've made you worry,
I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.

I always thought you like it
When I got all big and macho.
All my mates think I’m great
I don't get it, one bit.

I don't really hide from you -
I just don't tell you what I do.
I don't feel good saying things
Like “I love you”, but I do, I really do.

I'm sorry if you think that way, 
That I always say you're no good
It's not like that all, truly;
But my mates'll laugh if that's what I say

I’m so sorry, so very sorry,
Please don't push me away -
There never can be another:
You're my forever lover.

21 November 2015

Prompt is to write a response to one of my own poems from a different angle. I chose 

' "My Song to You":

You say the you are sorry
You have treated me bad;
It's much too late now -

20151114: Heeding Time

Time can be measured,
Time can be treasured;
By buying it with work,
Or wasting it with talk;
By using it for good,
Or wishing that it could.

If Time could fix all our woes
We should learn how it goes;
How to stop Time - or at least
Make it go slow.

But Time is an immutable beast,
And even Einstein didn't know
How to stop Time, or at least,
How to husband, how to grow
Our most precious resource -
For all of us are eventually forced,
By merely viewing our reflection, 
To heed Time, without exception.

14 November 2015

20151121: The Ultimate Medical Exam

Usually life’s daily intimate chores
Are performed behind
Firmly closed doors;
A daily ritual well understood by all.

But when things go wrong
With the system,
The medics are called in
And set free to do some testing;

Which they do with glee, of course -
Cameras up bums, backless gowns,
Forced to drink thick white goo
Without a spoonful of sugar to help it go down.

But the ultimate in these types of tests
Is the dreaded.... Proctogram
The ultimate in entero exams,
To put fear in the heart of the bravest man.

They make a mixture of potato flour,
And insert into you know where;
(Even that’s no pleasure)
And ask you to pass it at your leisure

So? You say, no great matter,
Easy done, off I go, cut the chatter;
Haha! Our medics chortle with glee,
This time we want to see!

So a proctogram is a great exam
If you like watching someone poo:
Especially when it’s via Xray 
And saved for viewing on a rainy day!

Having babies is no fun;
Lots of blood, gore and pain;
Considered to be the mostest
Of the grossest of these types of things;

But a Proctogram takes the cake:
It manages to take a nice picture of you -
Taking a poo,
Naked of all dignity 

21 November 2015

20151001: Crying Wolf

Do you know the story 
Of the boy who cried wolf?
A story with a lesson to tell
Including a moral as well -
One that you should heed.

To bluff and threaten and not carry through,
To not do the thing you said you'd do;
Time and time over, again and again,
Leads me to deliberate
That when you whinge and complain
I can just ignore you; the problem melts away.

You've cried wolf too often now;
That if the wolf came to be
And your threat eventuated -
I would surely be, definitely,
Completely, discombobulated.

Oct 2015

20151107: Burning Bridges

So, again, I incur your displeasure

which I do merely by existing, it seems;

doing those things I've done before

and will do again,

necessary to my wellbeing -

an important issue, you will agree,

given its fragility

but which appear to be anathema 

to your very raison d'etre;

which of course begs the question:

why do you stay?

It's WYSIWYG, my dear, an acronym

For What You See Is What You Get

And surely, after all these years - 

We've spent so much time together, 

we should know each other by now,

know the where the why and the how

of each other's thoughts;

surely, by now you would know

how it's going to go:

qI say something to which you object - 

what just do you expect?

That I would let you trample all over my words

as if they are made of dirt?

No, I am not the little woman

subservient, submissive, deferential,

I have a mind of my own

dependent upon no one

but my self - 

so why do you bother?

And so you throw a tantrum

a real dummy spit

a self indulgent demonstration

a supposed remonstration

of what I'm not quite sure -

to make me reconsider

what you knew I would do anyway;

or just let me know how angry you are -

a passive aggressive performance 

meant to illustrate your displeasure:

isn't that so?

But you already know that nothing will change

and as your tantrum, your non-verbal scream of abuse

proceeds and grows more irrecoverable -

perhaps you will consider the bridges you're burning

as you go - no, I wouldn't follow you;

but you won't be able to retrieve the situation

if you burn too many bridges:

will you?

7 Nov 15

20151115: Werewolf and I

One day a long time ago now

I was hijacked. By a werewolf.

I couldn't make him go;

And of course he wouldn't want to,

Would he?

So we settled into life together,

Werewolf and I -

His name is Lupus, by the way.

At first I sometimes forgot

He was there at all,

But there quite was a lot

For me to learn about Lupus.

 At first he just nibbled here and there

I knew to take care

Not to upset him,

But as we both grew older

He became hungrier, bolder -

His nibbles became bites,

So I decided to fight.

I fought Lupus with poison,

With toxins, with everything

And anything I could get.

And yet, still he survived.

So now he takes bites,

And ignores werewolf rules

To stay out of sight.

The were is a shapeshifter;

As is Lupus -

He changes from one thing

To another, always wandering;

But always coming back;

As if he loves me.

But it is not love that drives his return -

His desire for my soul, my self, burns

In his want for me. 

He plans to kill me, I realise,

He takes too much of me

For now we are locked together,

I can only ponder

The question of whether

Lupus will kill me quickly, kindly,

Or cruelly string it out.

Of course, Lupus  doesn't know 

I have a plan, and i'll take care,

I'll know when it's time to go:

I have the means now -

I'm taking him with me 

I know the only way to kill a were. 

9 November 2015

20150824: Love Should Be A Two Way Game

Gladly I will go to the Gates of Hell

And back again, if you so wish:

But think, my love, before you agree -

It may not be as simple as this.

The road to Hell is paved with glass,

Wouldn't you rather I walked on grass?

The Gates of Hell are far away,

Wouldn't you rather I stay?

I would be gone for some time,

Wouldn't you rather be by my side?

But should I need to go so far or so long,

Just to keep you here where you belong?

Love should be a two way game,

With no balancing of guilt or blame -

So when we walk side by side,

There is no need to keep in step.

Just don't ask me to provide

Evidence of  promises kept.

When has love been so solidly a thing,

That I need to prove my loving you?

24 August 2015

Originally concieved after reading a contest challenge asking for a poem written without adjectives.  Exactly how this translated into this poem I am not sure, it just happened.  It is a poem reflecting the old saw used to control a partner: "If you loved me you would..."

Submitted to AllPoetry.com contest "Tell me a love story" hosted by Anonymous Voice, 24 August 15.  Contest closes 5 Sept or on 45 entries.  In the Author's Notes, I mentioned the reason behind the poem. 

20150823: Pythagorean Triple

Pythagorean Triad

Damn Pythagorus!

Anxiety from counting syllable numbers -

Anguish in finding no one cares, not one iota. 

23 August 2015

5/12/13 triad 

Written for and submitted to AllPoetry.com contest "Pythagorean Triples, oh yeah, like haiku" hosted by PrudentHope183, closes 3 Sep 15 or after 56 entries  

Prompt: Write a three-lined poem resembling haiku about any observed or imagined moment, but the # of syllables of each line must correspond to a Pythagorean Triple, most preferred 3, 4, 5 since 12 is less than 17. But if you must, no more than 30 syllables in total.

20150820: Hedonistic Pleasure: a Senryu

Hedonistic Pleasure

Physical pleasure:
Mind-numbing, stimulating -
Hot, steamy shower!

20 August 2015

Written for and submitted to AllPoetry.com contest Senryu!!! 5/7/5 hosted by megK.

Prompt: to write a 5/7/5 senryu using 3 words from word bank.  I used "hot, steamy, stimulating, physical, mind-numbing and hedonistic in the title".  (I like my grandchildren to read my poems)

Closes 2 September or 21 entries.  

20150820: Awake Early

Awake Early

I wake early and you dream on
The clouds drift over a blue sky 
The birds twitter in the plum trees
I sit alone and watch you sleep

written in 2011, and submitted to an AllPoetry.com contest "100 Chinese Poems (1/100)" hosted by Elisa Wei.  it asked for a tang shi style poem in English.  I put the Chineses version in the Author's Notes.  Closes 31 August or 24 entries.  

20150818: Dawn Breaking

The sky is a dull mauve with a blush of coral

around the edges,

as the pre-dawn breeze plays gently 

at the tops of the trees.

I am awake early, unable to sleep;

a lot on my mind -

loading me down with what-ifs.

Each time I look up the outline of the trees

begins to deepen in definition

and the sky begins to lighten:

the blush, more golden,  melds seamlessly 

with the now light blue sky;

and with it my mind finds it's way -

I begin slowly to see what to do:

as dawn breaks so does my restlessness.

I am sure now.

18 August 2015

written for contest at AllPoetry.com "Windows" hosted by Andre de Korvin.  closes 13 days or 5 entries.

Prompt:  You sit by your window and look outside. You are all poets so you probably see what most people can't.  Describe  in 25 lines or less your vision.  Make it as interesting as you can. I highly value  imagery and creativity. Also, I favor free verse. Of course the usual rules of AP apply.

I won Honourable Mention.  24 August 2015.  

20150816: Love Cliched

Love cliched

I am a sorry sight -

A laughing stock,

One that loved not wisely

But too well.

The course of true love

Never did run smooth;

I am sick at heart -

Jealousy is the green eyed monster,

An ill wind which blows no man no good.

But love is blind. 

In a better world than this, 

As good luck would have it, 

Alls well that ends well -

But not always.

It is better to have loved and lost

Than never to have loved at all.

But not for me.

An almost cento poem based on the cliches of Shakespeare,

16 August 2015

Written and submitted to a contest on AllPoetry.com  "Play with Fire: Cliches!" hosted by Andrew Sano. Prompt: use cliches , as many as you want, any style, any length.

I went to town on this!

20150814: With Silence and Tears

With silence and tears I left

Weeping I left you, bereft.

I remember when we met -

Oh! How could I forget?

You were so kind, so loving,

Now you are cold, uncaring.

You want me to stay, you plead, 

You ask me to unbend, to yield;

I cannot after all that's occurred,

All the while, you demurred.

You call me cruel, after all you've said 

You watched as my heart bled,

As I wept, you just stood by -

Now I am leaving, you are asking Why?

14 Aug 15

written and submitted 14 Aug 15 for contest When we two parted hosted by Richard Salgado Prompt: "When we two parted" by George Gordon Byron.  I have used the last line of the poem as my first line.

Closes 20 Aug 15.  

20150806: Drop Bears

Drop bears

Drop bears are rarely seen

Their habits mostly unknown 

Their lairs hidden from sight 

We only know from where they've been

These creatures are cruel and nasty;

Sharp teeth like sharks

And claws strong and big

From shredding  tree bark

Waiting for their victim, they perch in the trees  

While the tourists wander unsuspectingly

Stupid  enough to wander about 

At the edge of the campfire light

When - woof! -  a drop bear lands 

From overhead with a blood curdling 

growl -

And the result is a bloody mess

An unspeakable sight, a cruel attack.  

So, tourists, be warned of our native wildlife,

Whilst you you are told there are no dangerous animals 

AlwYs be on the lookout, always keep an eye open

For our unique, elusive and dangerous drop bear.   

6 August 2015

Prompted by line in Poem "My Home"  -  "Even the drop beas seem friendly".   

written for and submitted to the AllPoetry.com contest "they only come out at night" by Jo Evans.  Won bronze 18 August 2015.  For more information on these unique and mythical Australian creatures see https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drop_bear

20150802: I had a nightmare last night.

I had a nightmare last night,

which has left me upset;

discombobulated.

I dreamt I was imprisoned -

trapped, unable to leave;

but then I am. 

In prison, that is -

my body failing, sick, weak;

a debilitating disease.

Hospitals are like prisons -

Soulless places;

I have lost all autonomy.

Chronic illness itself 

Is a life sentence -

and hospital a place of dread:

There is no release -

it is a life sentence:

imprisoned without life.

Soon the doctors 

will solve their dilemma

and put me in a nursing home

Another prison.

I am only sixty one

I am not happy.

25 July 15

103 words, 24 lines

20150802: A Paen to Home

As I cross the river bridge

I see the cockatoos

perched in the gum trees

up on the ridge.

I know then, that soon,

I'll be home again.

Some dislike the birds;

I love to see the white of their flight

and the yellow of their crest;

there is music in the sound

of their voices foraging for seeds

calling each other from dawn till night

When I've been away

I'm always pleased to be back

The colours of the land hold sway

over my heart, always there

despite any attractions 

the rest of the world can offer.

I love the brilliant blue of the sky

and the colour of the trees

that particular dull olive green

that cannot be described

and I often wonder why

anyone can call them ugly.

Even the drop bears seem friendly

and snakes and spiders merely pests,

even the heat of summer can be a delight.

And when our country exerts its might

and storms and floods destroy

whole towns and villages gone

in a flash of rain and flood:

that's how it is at home.

Other places have their beauty

But there is never a place

So beautiful as home  

26 July 2015

197 words  35 lines

submitted to AllPoetry.com contest Just Write hosted by Westva Princess  Prompt: write whatever you wish ... let your muse have pure freedom.  

I have travelled widely and am always glad to come home.

closed 18 Aug 15.  No place.  

closes 

20150802: Like a Nun entering a Nunnery

Like a nun entering a nunnery

I'm going into a nursing home;

I'm not really old enough,

And I'm still inclined to roam.

I'm not waiting for God,

Or close to death's door;

I am still compos mentis,

And I could stay for more;

My problem lies in my body:

It has betrayed me brutally,

I'm so dependent on others

There's no other option for me.

A chronic illness attacked

A long bad time ago;

The story is a very sad  one -

A veritable tale of woe.

I'm fortunate to have family

Who are generous to me;

If not for their helping hand

I don't know where I'd be.

So now I sit in hospital

My doctors appalled at the idea

That I might want to go home

When I managed to make it clear

Because I cannot manage alone -

That's when my accidents occur;

I wait and wait for a room in a home

But not without demur -

Because I'm only sixty one year old,

And despite my disablement,

I certainly don't fit in the mould 

Of a nursing home resident.

I've given in to my doctors' demands

They have my welfare at heart

I'm waiting now, time on my hands ...

But that's how it'll be, from now on!

22 July 2015

214 words, 36 lines.

20150802: Woken By Voices

I am woken by voices;

called back from my happy place

by the urgency of the demand

to wake up - now.

I am told to eat; I eat.

I don't know what it is.  

I don't know why I eat

I just do as I am told.

What is this fugue state, 

this disassociation that envelopes me,

that requires carers to admonish,

conjole me to stay awake?

I am startled again by voices:

Stay awake! Eat!

I sit straight in my seat, 

force my eyes to open.

It is not drugs, nor mental aberration,

but a chronic physical illness

that robs me of my energy,

so all I want to do is sleep.

I am aware of voices around me;

people, noise, TV; confounding.

I am but dimly aware of activity

as I struggle to remain awake.

All I did was to go shopping.

Shopping for a bra.

Such a problem for a body 

misshapen by medication.

Unfamiliar even to me,

My body's shape and size a mystery.

So buying a bra - any woman's misery -

Is an especial torture for me.

It only took an hour

with a carer wheeling, fetching, carrying,

frustrated by a lack of choice; 

I came away with one - only one.  

But needs must when the devil drives -

and I am now unable to make my own;

my hands weakened by disease,

and my energy also blown.

So I am finally allowed to return 

to the comforting realm of dreams,

where no one demands anything -

and bras are optional.

So I sleep.  

21 July 15

262 words, 45 lines

After taking leave from hospital and including a brief stopover at Target, Miranda to look at bras and try 2 brands.  I came away with 1 bra.  It fits well.  I eventually bought more of the same, plus several of a different style.