Poem – But once…

Tell me that the Earth is round
I'll convince you it is square
Tell me there's justice in the world
I'll tell you it's unfair

Tell me to sit down
I'll surely want to stand
Tell me you prefer the hills
I'll run along the sand

Tell me; turn toward the right
I'll move further to the left
Tell me they have wealth, with plenty
I'll show you someone who's bereft

Tell me government's for the people
I'll say; the people think it's not
Tell me you cannot remember
I'll say; dear, you just forgot

Tell me you're a teetotaller
I'll admit I like a drink
Tell me you work out at the gym
I'll say; I like to sit and think

Or tell me you prefer a beer
I'll say; I would rather wine
Tell me you want to order fish
I'm bound to say; meat's fine

Tell me you want to see the world
I'll say; I prefer to stay at home
Tell me you message via text
I'll admit I prefer the phone

Tell me you've seen the city's tallest building
I'll show you one that's taller
Tell me you saw a dwarf, real small
I'll point out one that's smaller

Tell me you have vertigo
I'll prove I have no fear
Tell me feelings are things you cannot show
I'll be sure to shed a tear

Tell me some are yet to cross the line
I'll tell you they crossed over
Tell me you don't believe in luck
I'll pick a four-leaf clover

Tell me you like suit-and-tie
I'll dress casual for sure
Tell me you would like two kids
I'll say that I want four

Tell me the baby cannot crawl
I'll show you it can walk
Tell me the baby's yet to speak
I'll say that it can talk

Tell me you're an out-going girl
I'll admit to you I'm shy
Tell me you're in it for what you get out
I'll say; now, that's the reason why

Tell me you are God's creation
I'll say; Mother Nature played a part
Tell me you'll leave me here, alone
I'll jest; you have no heart

Tell me you've had many lovers
I'll admit to just a few
Tell me they meant nothing to you
I'll say; the one for me was you

Life comes but once to you and me
If I propose, you will say; no
I'll treat you fondly, ever-more
To you, my heart will go.

Poem – The Hearth

Beside the hearth be still

The poet, quiet, whereupon

Wrote, re-wrote, read out aloud

Verse, re-told for only one

The inglenook, the fireplace

Spoke of warmth, desire, sought

Knelt beside, tender, near

In evening, dimly-lit, he thought

Tranquillity, await

Intensity, subdued

Supple, felt upon the shoulder

No longer be life’s perdu

Her flowing locks, her pursed lips

My life, before me, flashes

Interlocking fingers, hips

What’s lost in fire, found in ashes

Internal flame, soul-mate found

Me in yours, you in mine

One plus one equals one

Mathematically entwined

Ought not desire or turn to look

Watch story told only poet can

Eyes twinkling, moonlit flicker

Open book, chapter began

Bequeathing her soul unto one

Bequeathing her soul unto me

The fire-stone, the crimson rod

Standing nearby, never seen

Hush, the whisper shouts in vein…

It’s my turn now, avoid refrain.


The cotton-fields triggered his sense of loss

Remembrance shone through

It meant so much to him

It meant nothing unto you.

The summer sky was bright, the moonlight warm

Who’d imagine what’d gone before?

Hell on Earth had been to visit

Desperate times in days of yore.

He knew before his family passed

Sweet Jesus wouldn’t sing

‘All are equal before the law’

Meant many different things

Toiled trouble, the rising cry

Injustice came to see

Power over sacrifice

Beyond his family tree

In his shadow as he turned his head

Gently doffed his hat

Respect, compassion, mercy be

To commemorate, they sat

Together, as equals, to rise as one

The clock tower ticks, they pass

Time, for no man it awaits

As he looks across the grass.


3 Day Quote Challenge – Day 3

A big ‘thank you’ must go to Taruna for encouraging me to participate in this challenge. Go to her site, http://rhythmandthedancer.org/ – a medium of expression. And what a medium for expression it is! Her use of words (and pictures) creates a great synergy for those who appreciate the English language.

Day 3 Challenge

THE MAN IN THE ARENA                                           Excerpt from the speech “Citizenship In A Republic”                                           delivered at the Sorbonne, in Paris, France on 23 April, 1910

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

From: http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/trsorbonnespeech.html

Today’s challenge goes to:-

  1. http://doubleupoet.wordpress.com/
  2. https://perfectthedays.wordpress.com/
  3. https://dreamspinnerextraordinaire.wordpress.com/

Challenge rules:-

  1. thank your challenging blogger and post their site
  2. post three consecutive days
  3. post one to three quotes per day
  4. challenge three different bloggers per day


Hope you enjoy the challenge – know that you were hand-picked.

3 Day Quote Challenge – Day 2

A big ‘thank you’ must go to Taruna for encouraging me to participate in this challenge. Go to her site, http://rhythmandthedancer.org/ – a medium of expression. And what a medium for expression it is! Her use of words (and pictures) creates a great synergy for those who appreciate the English language.

Day 2 Challenge

“Do not spoil what you have by desiring what you have not; remember that what you now have was once among the things you only hoped for.”

Epicurus – Greek Philosopher

and Hedonist (341-270 B.C.)


Today’s challenge goes to:-

  1. http://peacehacks.com/
  2. http://sacharines.wordpress.com/
  3. https://thehistoricaldiaries.wordpress.com/

Challenge rules:-

  1. thank your challenging blogger and post their site
  2. post three consecutive days
  3. post one to three quotes per day
  4. challenge three different bloggers per day


Hope you enjoy the challenge – know that you were hand-picked.

3 Day Quote Challenge – Day 1

A big ‘thank you’ must go to Taruna for encouraging me to participate in this challenge. Go to her site, http://rhythmandthedancer.org/ – a medium of expression. And what a medium for expression it is! Her use of words (and pictures) creates a great synergy for those who appreciate the English language.

Day 1 Challenge




Today’s challenge goes to:-

  1. http://johncoyote.wordpress.com/
  2. http://criticaldispatches.com/
  3. https://fjgouldner.wordpress.com/

Challenge rules:-

  1. thank your challenging blogger and post their site
  2. post three consecutive days
  3. post one to three quotes per day
  4. challenge three different bloggers per day


Hope you enjoy the challenge – know that you were hand-picked.


Poem – I go with you

I am going nowhere

Unless I go with you

You are my light upon the hill

You are the morning dew

I am your hill-view drive

You are my avenue

You are my midday sunshine

You are as bright as sky is blue

I am the valley you traverse

You are my mountain view

You are the sweetest thing I ever saw

You are all there is that’s true

I am your rainbow after rain

You are my coloured hue

You are serenity lying next to me

You are my many and the few

You are the only one that understands

You never misconstrue

You are my raison d’etre

I have all I need in you

You are my concession when I fail

You are forgiveness, through and through

I am your life-long friend and lover

There’s no ‘me’ without there being a ‘you.’

You are my reflection in the lake

I lend my heart only unto you

You’ll be the hand I grasp when I dissolve

Your loving touch I hold onto

You stood by me in times of pain

You’ll always love me, and I you

Save my soul forever more

Let’s begin our love affair anew.


A Year

A year passed by tonight
I know not where she went
She may have gone down corridor
And invited in repent
Her glowing eyes, her flowing locks
Were not for nothing now
Destined to absolve my sins
With a frown upon my brow
For most that night, they knew not
Of penitent's existence
Living for the here and now
Noticeable pretence
The present in attendance
The future yet to serve
Fireworks like Northern Lights
In mind to be preserved
But like a dog, so many
Care not what future do
I cannot alter the course he'll take
If destiny be true


Herbert knew about the cocktail party long before Mary. “How did you find out about it so soon?” Mary said. “I don’t know, I just did, I guess,” replied Herbert. “Hmmm,” was all Mary could manage, as she walked away from the kitchen table, tossing her hair over her right shoulder, in anything but a state of contentment. Herbert could offer a wan smile to no-one in particular. He was never one to ‘compete’ for attention with others, especially not Mary, a young, attractive, brown-eyed brunette everyone knew could have had anyone she wanted. Why she chose Herbert was anyone’s guess.


And so it was that Herbert turned up to the cocktail party feeling a little sure of himself. Self-satisfaction didn’t sit well with him at the best of times but he tried to walk it through the door with a graceful belief he could carry it off. Needless to say he wouldn’t try too hard that night to make new friends. Rather, his strategy was to stay close to those he already knew and make for harmless chatter whenever it was deemed necessary.


Mary was on his arm that night. There was no way she was going to miss this one. The book launch had been something she’d been looking forward to for months, as she thought the author would still remember her from their high school days together – especially the days they spent behind the toilets by the sports grounds.


Mind you, she had room to make up, Herbert starting streaks ahead as the invitation had been to Herbert and partner rather than to Herbert and Mary – a slight, to be sure, but one she would shrug off with ease once in the surroundings she found familiar and to her liking. She started by walking about the room, purse in hand, as she tried her very best to make as many new friends as she possibly could.


Her strategy was to shy away from Herbert at every opportunity, preferring to be around guests of interest, to her and to others, pseudo-celebrities, so to speak. As Herbert’s old mate, David, Dave to his friends, came over to say hello, Mary whisked herself away from the impending gloom Dave brought with him to find her preferred company. Her dress that night was red, short but elegant, as if she wasn’t attractive enough already. She saw Jonathan and made a bee-line for him;

“Dear Jonathan, how are you this evening? I haven’t seen you in far too long. How are Elizabeth and the girls?”

Jonathan Reedy was a reasonably well-known weekend broadcaster on the local radio station where Herbert worked. At the last moment, Mary’s name came to him. “Well, thank you Mary. Sadly they couldn’t make it tonight.” Struggling, he found he was lost for words. What should he say to keep the conversation going? What did he know about this woman?


He had an idea. ‘You’re looking beautiful this evening, if I may say so. And those shoes.” “Oh, thank you. Yes, I haven’t worn this before. I bought it especially for the occasion. It cost an arm and a leg but I’m sure Herbert can afford it. I tried it on a couple of weeks ago and, Jonathan, it was like it was meant for me and me alone. The woman in the boutique at Double Bay was anything but helpful but by the time I’d finished with her I had her eating out of my hand. The shoes were just a last-minute thing. I just threw them on five minutes before I left the house. I think they look perfect, though – don’t you?”


Jonathan knew he had a cocktail guest for the rest of the evening if he couldn’t find a way to prize himself away from her. But for now, not thinking fast enough, he said; “And the girls? Who’s minding them tonight?” “Oh, Jonathan, I found this place called A+ Minders. They were recommended by my good friend Daisy Fairchild, you know, the news anchor at Channel 8?”


Mary was keen to drop the odd famous name, raising the stakes of her credibility with Jonathan and other guests he’d speak to (about her) later in the evening. Before Jonathan could get a word out, she was back on the job; “Oh, yes, they advertise on Channel 8. A+ says it all really. Of course, I had to interview the ‘minder’ a few times before I could be satisfied they weren’t some troll or tripe or something – you know, Jonny, the usual teenager who’s more interested in their mobile phone than they are in caring for my children. And most nannies find the door in a hurry when they find out I have twins. I don’t know why that scares them away. My kids are nothing but a bundle of joy. Just look at me. Ha, how could they be anything else?”


Jonathan was worried. ‘She’s started calling me Jonny,’ he thought to himself. Now he remembered where he knew Mary from – they had been high-school ‘sweethearts’ of sorts. God, those times behind the toilets! How could he forget? That was the last time she’d called him ‘Jonny,’ and we all know what that led to.


Jonathan had gotten in strife back then with his parents and the Headmaster because Mary had thought she was pregnant, all because they’d kissed. A real kiss too! It had taken months for ‘Jonny,’ as he was known back then, to live that one down – no-one believed his side of the story, even though, in time, he would be proven right. Now she was back doing it again. ‘Where would this night lead us?’ he wondered.


“Jonny, are you okay? You’re looking a bit, well, gaunt. Are you sure everything’s okay? It’s not the wine is it? I know they always serve up crap at these events. I try to be selective with what passes my lips at these things. Well, I’m always selective with what passes my lips. You know what I mean.” With that Mary gave Jonathan a little nudge, as if to imply she’d like to encourage a little, well, repartee.


But Jonathan really was started to look a little ill. As he stood there taking all this in he thought to himself; ‘how much more of this can I take? Someone come over and save me.’ But he had an out clause ready as he replied to Mary’s concerns.


“Thanks for your concern Mary, yes, I’m really not feeling well. I had a little something to eat before heading out tonight and I think it’s taken its toll. If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I might just visit the facilities. Do you know where they are?” For once all Mary could say or do was direct ‘Jonny’ to the men’s. “Round the corner to your left and up the end of the hallway,” she instructed him. “Thanks ever so much Mary. I’ll be back soon.”


Mary knew Jonathan wouldn’t return and so started looking round the room for more companions to talk with. She saw her beloved Herbert busy in conversation with the author she had come to see, who would be busy with book signings later in the evening. She left him alone for now as he looked jovial and otherwise engaged – she didn’t want to intrude. She’d find time for both men later on, Herbert at home under the covers and the author, well, she’d find time for the author outside behind the back entrance.


As she elegantly, curvaceously, strolled across the room she caught the eye of Josephine and Desmond O’Reilly, the poet laureate and her husband, a photographer, recently featured in National Geographic.


She was impressed before they spoke. Mary always loved hearing everyone’s news, and was keen to hear what the poet had been up to of late and what her husband had been watching and photographing – native wildlife or cityscapes, he did them both. “Mary,” Josephine and Desmond called out in tandem. “How have you been, my darling?”


“Oh, Jo and Des, what a surprise to see you here. I didn’t even know you’d been invited,” Mary lied. “Tell me all about your recent trip to Africa.” “You look ravishing, may I say?” Desmond said. Josephine gave her husband a dirty look and a quick kick on his foot. Her high heel could do serious damage when required. “Ouch,” Desmond cried. “How are your girls?” Jo asked of Mary, to avert attention from her aggressive act of jealousy. “Oh, seeming as you ask,…” Mary began, feeling the life and soul of the party once more. With sparkling wine in hand she was set for the next half hour.


“But that’s enough about me,” Mary said, after having spent the half hour telling these distant acquaintances her embellished life story, “let’s talk about you,” she said, wondering all along what they thought about her. Herbert could only look on from afar with a shy, not unfamiliar, wry grin. The night was still young.

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