My land.

The pink line spread like a stain across the horizon
The sea rose to the occasion and shimmered in its hope
Light azure tinged the heavens and frost glittered the ground
where the sun was yet to strike.

As the spluttering morn flowered, the grass bent under the chill
and surprised the eyes of the coastal dwellers.

Swingeing along the road side later in the day
the bush was holding its breath to greet the higher temperature.
They said it would reach eighteen degrees at most
but by eleven it was twenty five and this being winter it amazed.

As the native growth bid its blooms to hold back
Our wattle, our emblem, was trying to escape before time.

No sport, no 'win', no competition can compare
With the soft beauty of the Australian leaves
framing with sage green the softest puffs of gold
The wattle and her ethereal existence, here only for a moment.

Tenth August

How clever. How very clever.
Wait until the most nationalistic fervour on earth is at its peak.
Wait until the 'world's' eyes are diverted from the 'real world'.
Wait and then march in to invade another territory.
Tsk Tsk Russia you are behaving like Israel or USA!!
Thought you had learnt you lesson.
AND you took 2000 lives and what does the world do???
Yay, scream, shout, applaud..their atheletes!!

If it were American lives then what???
Another 'war on terror'???

But no...'they' mustn't be like 'us'!!!

And Yankee land...YOU have no right to condemn anyone...by your behaviour
you have to stay out of it...leave it to the UN...You Yankeeland owe UN millions of dollars
in unpaid dues...so your morals are at an all time low.


Today is the anniversary of a man, asking kindly of my old dad, may he marry me.
Thirty five years ago.
It seems like five.

It has been hell.
It has been sweet.
It has been my life.

Cheers!

Oh Gawd!

And so it begins....

NO NO NO
May London be the last "O" ever!!! Please.

It started with people running in ancient times, ( well men..whoohoo!!) naked and barefoot.
The modern "O" began with countries kindly helping send their reps to other nations to be 'ambassadors' for them..to spread peace and goodwill.
They were 'amateur' atheletes who did their 'training' in their spare time.
They were good natured and naive about the world.
They did their best and came home to a rousing welcome.

Now it is drug infested, commerce invested, trained till they are sick and broken.
They are held up as 'heroes' ( which they certainly are NOT).
They are paid handsomely and are sure of much loot if they drag home a bit of metal.
The country pays for a special 'school' to be opened, a 'university' to train them while our arts and theatre slumber in the dregs of our souls.

Countries who pay millions to just be 'put up' for the next hosts shift their homeless, bury their grubby little secrets, destroy homes, buy out for a pittance those who 'get in the way'. They shut up free speech, they quieten dissenters, they paint on the face of the Olympic whore a mask of well to do and smarmy nationalism.
It is at best a pathetic diversion and at worst commercialism gone mad!
It is dangerous in this day and age to encourage more of the US and THEM mentalities amongst those in the world who are already so self obsessed and full of fervour and lust for their glory.

This little black duck is not having a bar of it...I didn't last time and I won't this time.
Bugger the lot of them!

Enough! Enough! NO MORE!

Missing Persons Week

It is missing persons week here in Australia.
Does it count if the missing person is the person you are missing?
Or that the person isn't exactly 'missing' but just not in contact very often?
It is horrific to know your loved one is overseas permanently and he is too thoughtless to contact you and to reassure you he is fine.
I am tired of this type of loving.
It is exhausting.
Enough.

Introducing

Introducing my second great nephew.

FOR HIS GRANDMOTHER

She stands atop a parapet, on an island in the Channel
She looks with stillness to the north
To England and her ancestry.

He swings the video camera wide, zooms in on the tidal mound
And back again to the swishing waters
of the English channel closer to France.

She huddles down in her 'travelling' coat, cheeks touched by a collar
And half closes her eyes to the autumnal winds
That blow from her English ancestry.

He moves the camera round to the land, tight to a bevy of shops
and back again to the figure standing there
of his wife of thirty nine years.

She looks dreamy but cold up on the lookout, older and younger at once
she turns her head to spy him filming
Across the English channel.

He says, off camera, to the side, all at once, muffled
"What are you doing here? For whom do you wait?"
She doesn't even turn as he approaches, camera rolling
and you see her stillness broken.

She says:"I am waiting for a lover to come and take me away".
He chuckles but there is a sadness in the voice.
We women of a certain age, know, that what she says is real
half joking half aching half remembering girlish dreams.

We who have been loyal, faithful to one man for so very long
know that there is a taint of dismissiveness in our men.
We who have born their babies and fed them well
Have memories that at odd times make us ache.

And so to my sister-in-law-newly-made-a-grandmother
This is for you.
I shall not have a grandchild any time soon,
But I know that of which you showed in the video
taken by my brother on the Jersey Islands that day
And I ache along with you.

In Black and White.

His only Use!