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betterdays Sep 2014
"we are learning to ...
fish in the river of sorrow"*
Faith Sherien

this has been a year of
hard lessons.....
of trying,
again and again,
to perfect the the cast
to catch, cleanly,
the fish of loss.

to split it open,
and seize it's innards...
the stench, the messiness,
the ichor, the guts.

to scale the skin,
rough, cutting scales,
little tear shaped discs.

to eat of the flesh....
chewing, chewing, chewing
on the hope of afterlife.

and picking the bones clean
of delicate, delectable memories....

hard lessons,
too many this year,
yet all a part,
of a fishermans journey....
down, the river of sorrow.
betterdays Oct 2014
it is sunday morning,
early....
the boys, still asleep
the nanna,  still asleep
just me....
and the recently fed,
but hoping for more,
blucat shadow,
walk in the garden,

leaving imprints in
the dew laden grass.
i make my way,
with murping shadow
to the fish pond.
we, sit upon the rocks
and watch the koi,
glide smoothly by...

i slowly introduce my
hand,
to the still night-cool water and wait....
for the fish kisses.
the blucat is entranced,
eyes intent on the slow moving tails,
ears forward and twitching....

overcome by
such blatant tempatation,
he makes a swipe
at the gold and black  
goodness.....
and in a flash.....
they are gone ....and he,
is left sheepishly licking
a wet veleveteen paw....

back to me....
not wanting to
see me laughing
.....at his foolishness.
he has never once caught at fish....but does not stop him
trying....lol
betterdays Jul 2014
what if
the moon was just the sun
after it had been peeled
and showing all it's pith
and whote underwear revealed.

what if
the stars are just the peephole in the sky
so that those that went
before us never have to
say goodbye

what if
the sea was just a teardrop
from some sad god's eye

what if
we are just ants in a science
project
for alien humanlogist
from the planet fitahw....

what if
this is all absurd...but true?????
betterdays May 2014
five ducks
have stopped traffic
well one duck,
four ducklings
and a
security guard,
with a lollipop sign
have stopped traffic
on the university avenue

and that's just fine...
happens regularly
betterdays May 2014
heart, encompasses, soul
acorn & oak my life,my loves
blessed by days better & free
you both a treasure given me.

by the way ...don't forget to
feed the cat...
writing prompt....what would you say if you only had five lines of poetry  for you to write....
betterdays Mar 2014
over teacup...fine porcelain..
delicately chipped....coniving eyes....scrutinised...tallying..gulliblity..naivete..desire...
wi­zened fingers...talonlike..
tattoo.....mesmerizing......
rhythms..
....­...crystal ball... occluded....
fee exchanged..... hand......
presented....lifeline..short.....
love line....broken...tarot...
offered....indecsion..
..crystal....
..­..still cloudy...gap toothed...
..contortion...cards on....
table....impaired cognative function..accedes....
fee transferred....
.....cards..shuffle..pirroette.........inverted..­.laydown misere....
palaver..delivered....twocups... happy but sad.....prince of....
.....two sheets to wind....done
in....teacup rattles......
....session.........ended..crystal ball..sphere of silence....
.......future..still..shrouded..
...wallet..lighter..­. sozzled.....
laughter...all the.......
.............fun of the fair.........
betterdays Nov 2014
i watch
with quiet intensity
as he, my man,
planes smooth as piece of lumber

because of the heat
he is shirt less and wears
shorts and work boots...
he is unaware of my scrutiny

long smooth strokes,
from one end of the board
to the other, create a swaying motion,
through his tanned torso
a flexing in his hips and
thighs and bunch of his
taut calfs....
but it is the rhythm and
curving of the long muscles
of his back that....has  me
entranced, and in need
of either a cold shower
or a fast and ***** session
in the bedroom.....

i choose the latter...and make my need known...
betterdays Mar 2014
what was nothing

becomes reality

it happens momentarily

a thought creates an action

which sets the heart alight.

then reason takes flight

on wings of  purported glory

we skim the stratosphere

oblivious to gravity

we soar in graceless ecstasy


until .....        until....       until..................
betterdays Mar 2014
god made beauty sing
when he painted myriad
designs on butterfly wings

delicate and so sublime
they float on by
graffitti artists of the sky
betterdays Mar 2014
we are,
but the little pebbles
nestled
in the sand of time's
slow flowing river.

it is merely,
the disparate nature
of our minute size
in opposition
to the immensity
of the ponderous
river's drift,
that creates
the grind of pebble,
one to another.

causing,
the eroding
of our
singular thoughts.
it is only
the gentle tap-clacking
of another's desire
to know,
and be known.

that causes,
the acceptence
of the rasp and rub
of external catechisms.

causing,
rejuvenation
in the questing
of kindred souls.

that causes
the revelation
of differing paradigmal,
sways and drifts,
some sympathetic,
some callously
indifferent.

causing,
an ebb and flow
of treatise
and dissertation.
as we abraid
and hone
each other's
sensory disposition,
begetting,
spectrumunul emotions
from elanic bliss
to yearning,
dolorous sorrow.

that causes,
introspective despair
that grapples
against difinitive delight.

we the pebbles,
caught within
this mental current,
cannot visualise
the infinitesimal alterations wrought by time.

yet,
others remark
upon the changes,
that is the way
of the waters path,
as time flows,
unrepentant
into the basin
of life's sea.
we must to survive,
simply concede
our pretentions
and comply
to the  power inherit
in the water's
flow
I wish to give tjis poem, agian....it is one of mybearlier pieces. ...and  was written during a time in which  ded poet , wrote and encouraged  my writing.....I  feel it is a fitting memorial ...to him as a person who struggled with aspects of his life....yet gave of himself in a beautiful and passionate  way ... He will be missed.....vale my friend....
betterdays Aug 2020
looking fo a pinprick of blue
among the silver linings today
but can only see cotton candy white
and  flannel grey

set my plane to fly high and straight
but all it seems to do is fly in an
eternal, infernal figure eight.

cannot see the horizion
or sight the sun
flying without sight
Is like trying to run
with your legs hobbled

you don't ever  get far
and you inevitably
end up with a cut,
a bruise or a scar.
betterdays Jul 2014
it's a dan fogleberg sort
of day....
smooth and full of wist
as we do mundane things

full of odd jobs and kisses
in quiet moments
dusting off of yesterdays
and longings for tommorrows
fingers to fingers
and smiles promising
more....
sunshine through gentle rain
falling in love once more again
yeah it is definitely a
dan fogleberg sort of day....
betterdays Dec 2014
i am,
origami....
all mountain folds
and valley creases.

most days,

something, intriguing
and exquisitely beautiful.

on others,

a piece of creased paper,
lying discarded....
at the bottom of the bin.
betterdays Jan 2
Kingfishers, hungry; watching
Koi, oblivious; swim
lazy eternity laps
in the man made pond
Tuxedo cat, ever hopeful;
watching both,,
dreaming big cat dreams.
Middle aged poet, watching;
the teetering seesaw
,of urban biodiversity.
...Up close
Some times TC enacts the hunting leap to no avail.
Sometimes the kingfishers dive and mus the lightning quick doge of the koi
But most often it remains this low voltage  standoff til some one gets bored and leaves
betterdays May 2014
the sea mist,
slurs
in drunken lisps.
off the white wave lips
and the wind
takes
the salt an' chinese whispers
away
to the mountain ridge
to meet the clouds
the sea roars it
denial
of all the gossip
sent
and pounds the sand
in frustration...
thus
begins this
discordant day...
forecast  
to end with stormy tantrums.
betterdays May 2014
what a sight,
we see,
when,
with eyes, wide open
we love someone;
from the place of truth,
in our hearts.


it is, beauty incomparable,
enigmatic, eccentric,
sometimes unbearable.

it is, a labyrinth unravelled,
a road yet travelled,
a sojourn for sighing soul.

it is, awe inspiring,
death, defying hope.

it is, kindness and patience,
a forbearing of ill will.

it is, awkward and
uncomfortable
and the revealing
of family secrets.

it is, showing up,
showing off,
antics,
awesome and terrible.
and hell's bell's,
ringing out the doomed
damnation,
of carefree days
and liver
destroying nights.


it is, heaven,
when, you know
the love that is.
but remains unspoken.

it is, every aspect of
daily life,
given extra,
shine and polish

it is, ever forgiving strife

true love is life
and
life is love.
the other stuff,
mere, broken tokens,
spilled upon cobblestones.
for ben, always for ben.
you have been a quiet hero
this past week my love... and so this is my gift for you.
betterdays Jul 2015
your ashes scattered
to the ground
your dust on the wind
elswhere bound

all that is left with us
is memory
sad joyous sweet

you were fire's
warmth, a bright flickering
thing
that consumed life
created smoke
and loved a gathering....

you were a life complete
you ****** it's marrow dry
and the smiling crunched
upon the bones.

you left no regrets
behind,
only those left regretful
that you had called time.

but the battle had become
too fierce to final
and you did not want
become a caricature
of your former self....
and so you finished
as you had begun
with a warcry....
and then
the deed was done.
my child hood friend....
always the life of the party
committed suicide....
after learning...she had
terminal cancer
betterdays May 2014
in my mind
i wax hysterical
and wane lyrical
but what you see is
is me drooling half formed words
upon humanity

in my mind
i flow poetical
and ebb noetics
what you see are gibberish
producing lips

in my mind shakespeare
my apprentice
longfellow, a dabbler
i am the king of rime

what you see...
an overzealous eejit
with a propensity to string
words together in an underwhelming
rhyme...
i actually wrote this about my own poetry....the way as poets we can feel about our work. some times great about not so great a piece and sometimes horrible about a piece others adore..
it was not aimed at any one else AND NOR SHOULD IT BE that is not how i roll.
betterdays Jan 2015
my jaw aches...
with words unspoken
thoughts weighty
and pendulous
swing back and forth
in my calamitous mind

but still i smile....

back taut, muscles creaking
counting to ten, a million times

that little voice, that normally whispers
rocking away on  
a decibel high

but still i smile....

cause..
while i smile,
you have no idea
of the train of misery,
i am bringing
to crash your style.

you think, you done got
away with it...
well honeychile,
you be wrong by more
than a mile...

cause still i smile...

as i array an army
come get you guerilla style...

and when...
the stampede,
all done and over
and you be scraping
yourself up off the floor...

guess what....
i'm the one that's
gonna be smiling
all the more...

and you can bank on that
baby......for sure...for sure...
not aimed at any one.....
really just a bit of fun
after watching (hyper)reality tv...american style...wooee
you guys can crank it up!!!
betterdays Apr 2015
Easter Saturday morn, turned out to be wet and forlorn
no matter the weather we're  cosy n' warm, together
Two sleeping felines intertwined twitching
                                                       ­                tails n' noses
One Nan, with knee rug, knitting bag full
                                                                ­        of wool n'lollies

One Mama baking up treats, whilst,
                                                            sing­ing bad operettas.

Then there's me and my Da,
                                                  creating a blanket castle
A mighty fort of fabric n' cushions, chairs n' tables

No other place I'd rather be this soggy, rainy day.
I am a forteener.... and a forteener I will stay.
prompt: write a fourteener poem....I chose to make one with some wordplay involved.
Please note I chose to write without iambic pentameter. (often seen in fourteeners)
betterdays Jul 2018
today i am
a teacup in a tempest
fragile against the slightest wind
fine china, in a world of sticks and stones
brimming over with tears, sat far to long
dark and bitter with tanin, sour with lemon
just waiting to be drained, in one long gulp
so someone may read the dregs of me
betterdays Jun 2015
found, held loosely
in lovers arms,
while listening
to child's laughter

one muse, refreshed
by the words of kindness
spilt from the pens
of distant friends

poised to write
poised to live
poised to .....

the writer and muse
together again

found
thanks to all those who inspire.....
written in response to earlier poem "lost"
with thanks (in this case to nat lipstadt)
betterdays Apr 2014
fragments from everywhere
thanks to those writers
of prose poetry and advert
jingle for the writing below
today not the writer but
compiler and editor.

..so heres the truth...
..my dreams are always..
..best served cold...
.................blood love....
the nightmare warned me...
...whistling of the wind..
.................whispers w ana..
.....of thomas the tank engine,
sunshine and sleeping bunnies...
...confide in me...
...snarcissist...
............   waiting....
...the sexiest poem ever..
.burned at the stake.....
...slay my dragon..
..good, bad, evil, mad.....
....the eyes speak louder..
..............forgotten past...
suicidal thoughts....
..my truth...
.................stickysweet...
..my conclusion...
sleepless nights......
this is found poem
from mostly poem titles found while readinf pieces on the web.
thanks to all authors i post this as i compliment no offense intended.
betterdays May 2014
ginger pear slice
mixed well
with dappled sea blue effect
on deepset leather lounge
this is a mother's day best bet
is easy to ***, grows in sunlight
or shade
free seed give-away
grow them yourself
children of style
remember a smile and
a kind word is the most priceless
easy bake dinner for four
what to do with weeds
how to fix that wonky door
citrus colours: the fresh new you
subscribe now twelve issues $42.00
found in a slew of old better homes and garden
magazines
betterdays May 2014
four more hours to this
workday.
four more hours to the
weekend
four more hours to the
washing, cleaning,
cooking, planning,shopping,
four more hours, til i swap
this job for my other.....
god i am so tired...
really, not as bad as all this
just been a long week, and between au pairs...
betterdays Sep 2014
lover of mine,
just wanted to
let you know
somedays
you are'nt my other half ,
you are my whole.

those days you are the
keeper of my soul...


but then my love,
there are those
DUMB MAN days,
when you struggle
to be a quarter...

just being honest....

with ya...

this a DUMB MAN day...
get it together....please
and i will work on the ditz
factor...ok
betterdays Jan 2015
only the lonliest princess lived in the castle.
wandering,
from room to room....
but alas, no one else
lived there.

sometimes,
she thought she saw
someone in the garden

...but convinced herself
it was the wind...
            and stayed indoors.

only the the lonliesst
gardener boy
was left,
to tend the gardens,
overgrown, as they were.

sometimes,
he thought he saw some one in the windows of the castle

...but he could never be sure... so he stayed outdoors

so the days passed....
and the lonliest people
in the world lived, unknowingly,
within reach of each other.


and where was the
fairy-godmother...

...the one, who was meant
to put these lonely souls together....

she had gone to barbados
on holiday....
been hit by a falling coconut...
gotten amnesia
and was now making a living as waitress
...and wondering why
her back was itchy all the. time...
from where her wings
had retracted....
the moral.....
life does not always have a happy ending, stuff gets in the way...
or
...don't wait for someone else to create your happiness.
step outside your comfort zone and find it yourself.
betterdays Oct 2014
almost,
but not quite
ambiguous....
sadness in flight

a butterfly,
caught out
by  a sprinkler,

drifts, disabled
to the ground
and lies there,
flapping, weakly
til death comes.

there is a larger
truth hidden here...
behind the destruction
of  fragile beauty

but it is lost.....
as the ants find
the exquisite  feast
and  i turn my attention
elsewhere....
betterdays Mar 2014
i am a cork, set upon
the rapids today.
a storm, rising in
the darjeeling tea.
lightning, in the sugar jar
all bitterred up and jittery.

i am a feather, caught up
in a whirlwind,
on the edge of a cyclone.

running laps incessant, on the
hamster wheel,
of insomulance, that's me.


frenzied, fury, frenetic energy.
revved up, to beyond the max,
caught... ******* in a box with
bright,binding string.

claustrophobically, confined,
ready to explode,
my brain confetti, tizzy-fied.


why you ask?
            what's the go?

that's the ****** problem..

i don't know............
betterdays Aug 2014
unleash the mind
from the worn workaday bind
jump the groove
leave inhabition behind

for a moment, an hour , a year
let it all unwind
unravel and spool
to lie limpid on the sand
let the physche sojourn
let it be
leave the worry, the regret
and fly the cosmos
or sail the carribean
or better yet
do naught  
but unbind the bound
unbide the  biden
let loose the liger
and find
sweet freedom
if only to ask directions
to the  nearest  
imagine-that-atorium.
betterdays Aug 2014
friday night
the puddle of sanity
in which we soak

squish-squashed
in-between
the workday week

tonight i arrive
so swim ready
with chinese food
in boxes
beer and soda in bottles
and the biggest **** chocolate block i could find
and one or two extra
treats for
later...and never-you-mind

i am the hero/heroine
and as we sit
in a friday food frenzy
i can leave this week
from the gods of academic
penury way behind

hey you...
that last spring roll
                                    ..MINE..
betterdays Jul 2014
hey little one
i see you sitting
over there
on the fringe
of society

i see behind your
smile
to the tears pooling
in the corners
of your eyes

little one...
it is ok to be
so scared
life is a big thing
to undertake

yet you have to
take a step
and join the fray

little one
sitting quiet in
the shadows
waiting for
your spotlight,
your allocated time...
your little ray of sunshine....

little one....
i see you there
waiting to be told
but you gotta
make your own stories
and create
your own fold and creases
in the game of paper
and life's origami  leases

give it time
                 give it time
i promise you, little one
                          you will find  
                                    your way
betterdays Oct 2017
leapfrog, crawlfrog
sitting frogs,  snogging frogs
frogs, frogs, frogs
making pollywogs

sudden downpour
rainfall and now we have been
stopped by froggy urban sprawl

all over the road, expanding
the tadpole nation
every frog hop jumping
to their station.

uncle toad needs you

all the little froglets
stand up and take your
place in the human
eradication
we are small, we are cute
and soon we will be many
and our conflagration will bear fruit
the ribbet will roar
the pobblebonk will rise
watch out humans, watch out flies
time you realise...the frogs are coming
looking out for more...it is written
in our sacred lore...we are the future
some silliness for the young un... but we did have to stop on the way home cause the frogs were doing their thang on the road...hundreds of them, like a frog mosh pit come woodstock frenzy
betterdays Mar 2014
i stroke the water
with amphibian grace....
plastic protuberent eyes
bob up above....
then down below
.....disecting view
sky blue../...to aqualine
aquamarine.. black line

water sluicing off...
latex bundled, bumpled head
in streaming rivulets...
legs creating rhythmic geometrics....
arms parting waters to glide.........

my frogskinned self.....
is irregularly pattern
....dead fish white,
and sunkissed brown,
......on appendages
bright cerulean, slashed
with swirled  butter yellow.
.....wrapped across the
overotound body...

glide onward frog girl...
....through...
the crisp chlorine clean pond...
thoughtless.... except for stroke
and lapnumber.

we.... the army of lapsswimmer
frogs.... are a silent breed
our territorial sound/call is the
regulated plash of arm or leg
.....against surface water

as we swim....always....
in straight lines.....
......that etch away miles....
and
...our overindulgent..
land based......
...vices

we are the water monks .....
of penance and self improvement
....grimly discharging our vespered canon of strokes....
before fluidly lifting our... watersilked
bodies back onto the reality
of land ......leaving
our amphibian grace
                        ........adrift
....in the wake of daily need
betterdays Jun 2014
it has been, some
seven months
since i started writing
here seriously..

before that a couple
of bread crumb poems...

so this i would like to say...
to all who care to see,
this place,
has become a sort of
nesting place, a home
of the thoughts, that
rattle around inside of me.

i feather it with words
strung together,

some like, gaudy paper chains.
and some threads of a deeper colour, grey, black, indigo blue...

some have the scent
of  an autumn morn,
smokey, salted and crisp, some of musk and lover's after bliss
others sweet reminiscent vapours, wafting from my past...
a few of, the little blucat
and his human toys.
most of love and life,
and the blessings,
that are my boys,
pebble and rock
oak and acorn...
my hope and daily joy...

i string these threads
and weavings up..
for all to come and see
and to those who do
i will for ever grateful be.

i thank you for giving
my words wings to flutter
and fly about...
thank you.... all who read, follow and comment....
it is a wonderful thing... to have your voice heard....

i have written elsewhere,
but find the community here, wonderfully supportive... so thank you
betterdays Apr 2014
" I found one Mummy!!!"
says my  just about four
year old boy.

We are on our town green
at the, combined churches Easter Egg Hunt.
This is Tod's first big egg hunt and he does n't quite
seem to have the hang of it.

Tod my boy, who now sits with his plastic egg.  
Happy as can be!!!

"Honey don't you want to go find some more ?"

"Can I ?"

"Why don't you go find one for Nanna & Da."

So off he goes, just about quivering with excitement,
Dad trailing protectively behind.

He comes back with four more eggs, so five in total.

One for Nanna,
One for Mummy,
One for Da
and one for me.

We ask, the obvious,
Tod, who is the last one for?...

It's for her,
he says pointing to a lady, sitting alone,on a park bench
watching the children play.
She is a complete stranger,
to us,  and looks a little bedraggled, not a street person, or drunk, just beyond caring.

"Why her ?"  We ask, just a tad alarmed,(Stranger danger and all that.)
because, " She is all alone and sad, with no eggs
and everybody should have eggs on Easter.

Gobsmacked much!!!.....
Our little man saw to the heart of it.
While we looked at the shell.

We took the egg over to, Anne, for that was her name and asked, if she would join us for a picnic lunch of fish and chips.
It turned out she was travelling through and had broken down .... was stuck till early next week(until her car was fixed) and was missing easter with her family. She had come to the
park, to see children play
on Easter Sunday morn.

As we parted later, with address's exchanged.
She leant over and said in my ear.
"You've done well, such a thoughtful little fellow."

I just beamed through my
welling tears.

Then she walked away.
and Tod gave her his cheery little wave.
so not so much a poem, as a proud mumma gush
but it is cuteness with a lesson

oh and one other thing i must explain the kids find plastic eggs which they then trade in for real eggs(for safety reasons) i found that to be a little sad. i understand why. but i'm still sad
betterdays Apr 2014
fickle......
             is the.. wind that blows tonight
                              tying...

knots in ..the... clothes
.....left  ..  
                on the line. ... . . . ..

     howling ........ ..... ...... ... . .                          

                   at the seams ...

..of this old place...
                                      raising..
the.. hackles.. on ..the ..cat...

...... ..raging..at  ...   ..... ..        ................the...flower..beds . . .
     .......       ..    . . ....     ..... ..  .

..creating ...pressure ..in our heads.... ripping.... my

thoughts ...... . . . into ...to .     .......shr.. ..ap......nel.. . . . ..

b.bl...blah..b..lah.blah...sting blasted .....wind...
.......    .............ratt... atattling the...... window.... frame

....and then....


                       silence reigns
betterdays Jul 2018
sun shines overbright
bee's harvest the lavender
precursor to spring

night too cold with frost
even the owls stay in, silent
winters reminder
betterdays Jun 2014
Gad Zooks,
the zedonk,
was mostly,
a happy little fellow.

but,
there did happen,
to be days,
when his,
incomplete
stripes,
got him down...
he was not horse,
not full zebra,
only part donkey.....

and that made him feel, shonky, wonky,
weird n'strange...
like an equine oddity.
not at all likin his ***-dity

when he felt like this,
he would run afar
and pray for god
to take,
his markings,
away.....

Granmama Zooks,
a zebra matriach
and of magnificent stripage,
found him this day
mumbling and crying away...

she then said to him,
in her best zebra neigh....
you are sad little zedonk,
to act this way....
you should think of yourself,
in a different mindset....
you have,
the best bits,
of zebra and donkey.
you just don't see it yet...

i've learnt in my time
you just have to work,
what your born with...
some times,
what you see,
as bad,
actually is,
a god given gift.

you, should be always
be proud of who you are
and what you will become...

people will travel,
for miles and miles,
to see your bars...
and will still be,
talking of you little gad..
as they leave, all smiles.

in their cars,
calling you,
either zedonk...or zonkey,
or zedonkedey  too.
telling each other,
you are,
both cute and bizarre..

so my little,
hotchpotch friend,
be proud of you...
for in the end,
you will,
stand out from
the crowd
just chill, little zook
                      ...and be zen.
a story for my son....
betterdays Jul 2014
sun plays peekaboo
with the horizon
i am awake
my hip aches
age playing tag
no...no,  i have dinosaur hip when i reach down
to massage the place
i find a gift from my boy
a tiny tyranasaurous rex
has left a lasting imprint
i am branded by toy

now sitting at the table kitchen
i read the mornings joy.... and despair from the
world of poets. hello!
gathering myself
together
over early morning tea
i organize my tin soldiers and wind up my clocks mentally.
big game today
big game everyday
the season  is long,
have to finish out strong
be crowd pleasin
no bench warming allowed forward full throttle
life is playing on thru...
life is  coming on strong
life the game we play
til the game's all gone.

go team!!!!
betterdays Jul 2018
god it's so cold
heart impoverished
by grief
beggar at this feast
toes like ice
head full of mice
running  the race
of larger bretheren
while chattering
glory hallelujah
my joint cry fowl
my heart yowls
at an indifferent moon
salt water slurry
cascades down my cheeks
first day of the week
already i have wandered
too, too far off the track
down the valley of bleak
beaten down, weary
blue and black
cold weather blues
blacking my brain
like foul smelling soot
from a fire with no heat
need to find  warmth
for my heart to beat
need to switch songs
not rinse lather and repeat
spare a kindness, maybe a smile
my mendicant heart
so needs a boon...
god it's so cold
alone in this room
filled with others
all just the same
all are players in
this gam of life and loss
bereft....be it's name
betterdays Dec 2024
Possums playing tag
In hob-nailed boots on the roof.
All sound and fury
Australian possums, quiet, cute and looks cuddly,  unrorpsong likes to rent roof spaces, to bring up possum  families. BUT during mating seasons play war games in aforementioned roof spaces
betterdays Dec 2024
Shiny black tailless skink
Victim of moggy hoodlum
Lives to fight again
Skink ; small black l lizard that when under threat  loses it's tail that then wriggles to attract attention of  attacker whilst lizard scurries away.
They are the favoured preu of the one year old kit as he loves to play with the wiggling tail.
Note the tail grow back ... So there are always long tailed lizards left to convert  to short tailless  lizards
betterdays May 2017
feet slap
the pavement
as we walk
to the left
the sea
breaks
onto
golden sand
to our right
a group of
yummy mummies
and their
trendsetting
offspring
play

we walk briskly
with purpose
walking off
indulgences
creating
healthier
versions
of our
built
for comfort
bodies

The sun is warm
on our backs
as we chat
through our days
one awaits
her first grandchild
another speaks
of the upcoming trip
myself and one other
speak of parents in care
we all talk about our boys
both big and small

we are friends
gathered over the years
now made a twice
a week exercise group
we are the framework
of support that helps
us all stay strong
some strands slender thin
some shiiping cable thick
intertwine and hold us together

feet slap the pavement
as we move together
lioness' on the plains
proud among the
zebras and gazelles
betterdays Nov 2019
stealing time
to pen some words
that may be
considerate  enough
to rhyme

stealing time
to sit  apace
with  myself
and muse away
a small portion of
this humid hour

stealing time
to stare at space
and watch
the dust motes
dance with
ballerina grace

stealing time
with vacant smile
as the world and
his wife, walk on by

it is  in moments
like these stolen away
that i gather the beauty
of each and every day
betterdays May 2014
there is a bug,
on the
windscreen,
hanging on tight.
they must
be
getting
the thrill of their
tiny life
we are zooming along
at  about 65k
irony is
the little bug
was
just looking
for
a quiet place
to stay.
betterdays Jul 2014
it is the end of the month
and the moths have
taken up residence
in my wallet.

so glad they can't eat
the visa card....
again an older piece...from student days...when caught
in the credit hamsterwheel
betterdays Aug 2017
you bring to me
your offering
of  love

you place it gently
upon my sleeping breast

and the retreat
to the chair in the corner

and sit, content
to wait til I awake

you watch me
with eyes
full of  adoration

hoping your token
will be sufficient
and bring praise

i awake....to find
a dead mouse
on my chest

in shock
i scream
long and loud
i do confess

you are confused
this is you best
you bring to me

and i yowled  at it

you slink away
thinking these
human things
are difficult
to please

next time
i must bring
a baby rabbit
back to the nest
our newish cat...has started bringing in his kills, firts it was bugs and snails, then little lizards, on the weekend the lovingly present mouse....this afternoon on the kitchen floor a rabbit kit......
...he now has a collar and bell....and we are looking into a cat enclosure..
the force seems to be strong in this one.
betterdays Jun 2014
the sun shines,
on your little golden-head.

as you and the blucat,
hunt lizards, in the garden.

i sit on the step and watch.
my happines,
overflows
and fills the world,
with a rose-tinted glow.
betterdays May 2014
the little brown sparrows,
perch on the barbed
string fence,
feathers ruffled and puffed
against the cold, of the morning air
they knatter and gossip away among themselves.

they know nothing  of the sorrow of this day..

the thought comes to mind,
why would they care,
god's eye is upon them,
as they bask in the sunshine.
i sigh and crumble a corner
of my toast and scatter it to
the ground.
even god needs a hand,
in the practical aspects of caring, sometimes.
as the sparrows dart in to consume the crumbs,
i smile at their squabbling
antics....
and come to understand why god loves to watch the
tiny little things.
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