Back to posting

Isn’t it strange, you would think with lockdown I would be using this site but poetry seems to be far from my mind. 

I’ve trying other creative outlets now and am having fund with fluid art. 

Any comments would be gratefully received. And if anyone wants an original let me know. One of these maybe or commission me.  So I will post pictures as well as poetry from time to time. 

I love this one – I call it My Dancing flowers

Laundry Blues

I used to love laundry days

The satisfaction that cleanliness brings

The warm sensation of finishing a job

And those neat piles of clothing

When I had finished the lot


I used to love that sweet laundry smell

And starch that bought stiffness to collars as well

To remove all the grass marks and have crease free shirts

My day was complete

And my energies spent


I used to love laundry days but no more

Now its non-iron shirts and more

Those drip-dry trousers just fill me with bliss

No more ironing, hurray,

No more creases in this.


Now I have time to sit in the sun

To play ball with the kids

And get grass stains on my bum

I used to love laundry but not any more

Its too time consuming, it’s simply a chore!

Confessions of a Jaded Delegate

I am sitting at the meeting

Wondering why I‘m here

The others seemed to have the knowledge

My mind seemed rather bare.


Would I remember all this input?

Did I really care?

Was it time to move my feet,

And get the hell out of there?


I gaze out the window,

The view has caught my eye.

A roof is glistening in the sun,

I didn’t realise we were up this high.


Looking down at the floor,

Oh no, my tights have a run.

The ladder goes up the side of my thigh,

At least the other foot has none.


We are put in groups, ideas to share,

A question… I need to respond.

Some wisdom or thoughts they seem to expect,

Can I get away with just a nod?


I don’t know what they hope I will say,

Pearls of wisdom from a dew-drop brain.

They look at me expectantly,

My comments sound rather lame.


The air-conditioning is never right,

It changes from moment to moment.

Now I’m sweltering, hot as heck,

The next my feet will be frozen.


The day is over, what did I learn?

The food was good, those tiny cakes great.

Met some new people, heard an idea or two,

And caught up with quite a few mates.


A day away from work,

Not the type I was dreaming.

But a change as they say,

That’s an interesting stain on the ceiling.




The DIY conundrum

We really are a nation of DIY

We like to give everything a try

From laying a garden, seed and all

To leveling out for a tile floor


We buy all the gear we think we will need

The ladder, the level, the tiles, the seed.

And then we will find we use it just once

Or have heaps to use next time, after we wipe off the dust.


Our sheds are full while we wait for that time

When we lay another lawn, or hang another line.

And after all that expense, that effort, that toil

We still end up needing to call a professional


But we look at the job we completed and say

How pleased we are, it really did pay.

To do it ourselves, the money we saved

And we hide the wonky tile and the crooked architrave.


Next time I may think of the time I’d have gained,

of the bruises, fingernails and pains I’d have saved

And I’ll reach for the phone, a professional to call

Well maybe…or I’ll visit the hardware and buy some more tools!

IT Angst

Issues with websites can drive you mad,

Not being able to do what you want can make you sad.

Visions of tossing the laptop across the room,

Well it would make a very satisfying ‘boom’.


But it’s too costly to replace,

And imagine the look on your colleague’s face.

So you grit your teeth,

and take a deep breath.

Your determined not to be driven

by a machine with a stupid algorithm!


I wrote this a few years back when I was doing a creative writing course. I liked it then and like it now. We had to describe a colour to someone who could not see it.

Orange? You ask as I sit and think

that this will be easy, it’s the taste of the fruit.

And then I stop and ponder longer

Orange is more, much more than just a

quick response.


Orange is in the delightful surprise

Of fizzy lollies exploding on the tongue.

It’s in the smell of freshly baked bread,

And in the yearning to pick and nibble

just a bit.


It’s in the warmth of running your hand

Deeply through a sheepskin rug.

And it’s in the scent of summer,

Freshly mown lawns, and suntan lotion


And it’s also the shade of children’s laughter

That happy bubbling sound of play

The genteel breeze that just touches the skin

Carries orange with it as it drifts by.


And I look at you, my sightless friend

As these thoughts move in your mind.

I feel a sense of wonderment

As I watch the orange of your smile.



The Journey begins…

I decided to start a blog as I kept writing verse but didn’t know what to do with it. Also I would like to share it with my friends and family…and anyone else who may like to read it.  I wrote verse for the Massey course I did. It has been locked away..unfortunately when I resurrected it and brought it to work to scan…it blew off the car roof. We found all the verse I think..and most of the stories.

I finally found out that not everyone could rhyme and maybe it was a talent I had that should be put to use. We will see.

P.S. I am writing under my maiden name, and the name my mother wanted me to be called…it feels right for this.

I started a blog , my rhymes to share,

      with all my friends and family out there.

They keep popping into my brain,

     this way I hope they will remain.

And we can read them when we have time,

      and you can say what you think, but please be kind.