Love
Love, what is it?
You know when you’re in love
But what is it?
I love my wife, I love my kids
I’d love to have a beer
I love walking in the bush
I love my boat
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| Charlie |
I love my car
Making love
The word is overused and oft abused.
What is love?
I can’t buy it
I can’t sell it
I can give it away unconditional and free
It needn’t be returned
But it’s great when it is.
What is love?Your own is worthless until you give it away
And then it’s priceless
Whatever it is
There is an endless supply
So don’t be shy
Share it with the world.
© Charlie Trafford
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| Judy |
Men And Power
Woman is invading men’s sphere of power control.
Men in masses are grieving
for the power they once had.
No longer are they the sole providers;
No longer are they the only ones
to rule nations and companies;
No longer the only ones to propose marriage;
No longer the only ones to initiate a night of passion
But one area that men won’t surrender
Is the power over the television’s remote control.
© Judy Brumby-Lake
To Her Parasite (A response to Andrew Marvell’s To His
O-M-G, okay let’s...
Err, YERRR Bro!
I’m not being “coy”
This is a girl saying NO!
I’m sick of your texts
Your inboxes too
Yay! You’re horny?
Well boo-hoo for you!
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| Lauren |
No matter who wears it
No matter the face
Despite how you spin it.
Lovable puppy?
Needy, baby boy?
Devoted? OVERRATED
Pfft! I’m nobody’s toy!
And you’re telling me
We have so little time
Whilst you’re set to waste it,
And upon rhyme?
All talk and no action?
That’s what you are
So what if I’m a virgin
LOL, because you’re a porn star!
You’re saying I’m a babe
Well ain’t that just great
Cos if I’m so dang smokin’
I won’t need you mate!
Let’s be honest, you’re a player
(And proud of the fact)
That’s cool with me -
But the diseases you contract?
A different story, my friend;
Yeah, I’m not keen on sharing my bed
With herpes or AIDS
Or whatever else you’ve spread.
Well, I think I’ve made my point
You’re repulsing, capisce?
This is a girl saying NO!
Coy? Good grief!
© Lauren Hay (Dripping Ink)
Driving Ms Julia ...Out
For three years and a couple of days
she has served as PM of our land
and now history will be left to judge
Julia and her Labor band.
She wasn’t voted into that high office
but somehow with her mates connived
to challenge for the leadership
and it was Julia who survived.
She had devout supporters
plus many critics too no doubt
yet in that final showdown
her own colleagues kicked her out.
Young Bill took out the long knife
with his sights on that top job
and helped assassinate his chief
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| Peter |
Years back there was a politician,
a redhead much the same,
who was stumped by ‘”xenophobia”
and made famous “Please explain?”
Now politics is a strange game
with many daily turns and twists
but thanks to Julia, we all know
all about “misogynists”!
She was lampooned by cartoonists
supposedly in good clean fun
by exaggerating red hair, long nose
and especially that large bum.
But that’s all part and parcel of a job
that demands a good thick hide
where uncomplimentary cartoons
must be taken in your stride.
Like so many of our pollies
whose quotes get bandied around forever
Maybe she’ll regret she said;
“We’re moving forward together”
But now Ms Gillard is retired
to a career p’raps more fitting
for I’ve heard there is a rumour
she’s discovered she likes knitting.
There’ll be time to get her hair rinsed
or maybe tidied with a trim
and all done complimentary
thanks to a bloke that she calls Tim.
Now whether history sees her as a hero
or just our biggest PM dud,
her name forever will be linked
to her team mate, Kevin Rudd.
© Pete Stratford 27.6.13
Different Opinions
Life is made up of all types of people,
Some kind, some considerate of humans’ feelings,
There are others who tell untruths
to make people take notice of them,
People with soft voices can talk
all day and no one takes notice,
If a person has a loud voice, it appears they talk a lot,
Maybe they need a hearing aid,
This is incorrect - opinions, opinions, opinions!
Trees sway and no one takes notice. It’s natural;
If the tree is cut down, it’s different,
It is the same in life,
Some may not understand so they think they are wrong,
They do not deliberately say untruths
but it makes some take notice,
I would enjoy life to a greater degree
if there were more honest people,
We are taught honesty is the best policy,
Our character cannot change and
I do not want a transformation,
We must understand; some misunderstand what is said,
Life is made up of all types of people.
© Yvonne Matheson
Children
Children playing in the park
Swinging on the swings
As one little girl swings, she sings.
Children taking turns to slide down the slide.
Mothers and fathers looking on, their eyes full of pride.
Children playing Frisbee with the family dog;
Children making daisy chains, children racing around;
Children eating ice creams and icy poles.
What a lovely time for children.
A sunny summer Sunday.
If only it could be like this for the children every day!
© Cathy Weaver
Shadowed
Your presence leaves me never
But never stays; I live ever
In twilight and despair.
To be alone without your trace
To take fresh life with colder air,
Whenever by my side you pace
And draw me back with gentle care.
Just like the sea that worships on the sands
And ebbs and flows, but never quiet stands,
Belonging nowhere, touching every land,
So is the constant presence of your hand.
© Brenda Slavoff
Michael Garrad's View
Calmly, without the blink of an eye, the lady said she wasn’t afraid of death. Part of the process of life on Earth. Living and dying.
I told her how much I feared The End. The not being. Of not existing. Of never having been!
Depending on your religious point of view, we go “to a better place”. To the non-religious, of which this lady is one (as I am), death is The Dark, The Oblivion.
Without missing a heartbeat, she said, “You live on through your children.” She has more than several, as I do. No consolation to me!
Call me conceited if you will, I find it impossible to accept that my body, my mind, with all its faculties, will some day cease its functions, through accident, illness, or plain wearing out in old age.
We think we are immortal – high living and all that goes with that, or average living and the extreme stress of paying our way. Just being here with all the material benefits that go with mortgage-loan-credit. It goes on and on – the children grow up and we get older and older!
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| Michael Garrad |
This gentle, peaceful lady who has lived long and long accepts, in tranquility, that the completion of breathing, seeing, hearing, tasting, touching, is final!
She is braver than I!
Bite Of Frost
Cold sun in cruelest sky,
Pale white, feeble, as if to die,
Whipped cloud, this icy chill,
Wind seeks refuge in the still,
Creatures shiver, false the night,
In vain, grasp at fading light,
Winter’s grip threatens fast,
Bird call echoes in summer past,
How image shifts as sea on sand,
And bite of frost crisps the land,
This sky, this hope to live,
Begs the sun to warm, forgive.
© Michael Garrad June 2013
JOE LAKE’S OPINION
Last month we held the Burnie Gold Pot. Mary Kille said that it was the most successful ever. There were three equal winners chosen by five judges: Lauren Hay, Peter Stratford, Charlie Trafford. From the three names we drew Peter’s out of a hat and he received the Burnie Gold Pot trophy. The money in the pot was divided equally.
Spring
I love the cold as it may lead to warmth;
As winter’s end may tempt the breaking bloom
And heat when it’s relieved by cold is balm
Where males are pushed towards the female’s womb.
Blooms then expose themselves to loving bees
And leaves sprout forth as summer’s early lease.
Each winter’s end, I watch the daring bursts,
When little trees expose their hidden hearts,
Yet frost may bite to hinder this rebirth.
But then the warm winds open up their parts.
Then I will sing and dance and worship life
And cry, with halting heart, to be alive.
From cold, to warmth, from winter’s sleep to life;
My frozen heart will thaw and then survive.
© Joe Lake
Fear Of Darkness A serial novel by Joe Lake.
(So far: Julie meets Susan, who is from five hundred years in the future. She gives Julie a ring to travel in different parallel universes. Julie turns the ring and journeys through space and time with John, her husband. Susan appears later as a hologram and tells Julie not to use the ring anymore. Julie taunts the hologram to look like Lady Di and it does. Julie wants to be left alone. The hologram says that it wants the ring back.)
“Here! Take the silly ring!” Julie tried to take the ring off her finger. She couldn't. “John, John,” she called from the campervan’s door.
“You called?” John’s head appeared in the doorway. He saw her effort with the ring. “You’ll never get that off. It’s welded on.”
“Don’t be silly. I feel like an idiot. Now the ring won’t even turn,” said Julie.
“You know what happens if you do,” said John, “a terrible noise will be heard, swishing winds and we’ll be travelling in a spaceship, that’s our stupid van, somewhere near Saturn.
We’ll have to get rid of it, or this woman from the parallel universe won’t leave us alone.
Instead, we’ll cut the finger off. I’ve got Lignocaine. Then you can’t ever turn it downwards again and start a catastrophe or we could use super glue to keep the ring on forever.”
“All right,” said Julie. “You know, she’s won, this Susan from cloud cuckoo land. She’s made fools of us.”
“We could leave,” said John.
“You’d have to get some petrol in the tank first, let alone fix the leak in it,” said Julie.
“Why don’t you call her? She said they were watching us as if we were experimental animals in a cage,” said John.
“All right.” Julie looked at the ceiling and yelled, “Bitch from outer space, you stupid figment, show yourself!”
They held their breath. Nothing.
John called out towards the other end of the van, “Susan, you silly tart with no brain, show yourself or we’ll never give you the ring back.” He nodded affirmatively to Julie.
Julie contemplated, then said, “The Vespa hanging off the back of the van still works, doesn’t it? We could just get on and there’d be no hologram on the open road.”
“They’d find a way to track us through the silly ring,” said John.
“Come on, we’ll leave the van, lock it and take the Vespa to Launceston, the big smoke.”
(To be continued next month)
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| Joe Lake |
Burnie
I often wish that Burnie
Had a more poetic name,
Though I don’t like the moniker,
I love the place just the same.
I love being so close to the sea
And having other towns nearby,
Plenty of things for old ladies to do;
I’m giving them all a try.
There are lots of beautiful views around,
Even the woodchip piles attract.
No, there’s nothing but Burnie,
Best place on Earth in fact.
That’s not counting my birthplace,
Scottish township by the sea,
I can’t go back there - much too cold -
So Burnie is the place for me.
© Vi Woodhouse
