Birthday Invite – Spin until You’re Dizzy

You're welcome to my party, I'd love to see you there
With games to play and songs to sing and birthday cake to share
Spin until you're dizzy til the world spins round and round 
Or drink a glass of fizzy and giggle to the ground

Getting excited for my big day. Hope to see you there.

Lots of love


Where:
When:
Time:

BY DEE GRANT 2021

This is the first in a series of templates I am creating for greeting cards and invites.

Photo by Chrofit the man to call on at Pexels

#Poetry – Counting Sheep

So wide awake from blissful slumber. It’s noise again just pick a number!

Barking dogs, reversing truck, an ambo’s siren wish them luck. All blend to make the drummers beat, the city’s soul, the city’s streets.

This city beats a noisy drum, of sirens, cars, its song goes on.

And so I lay as if to rest and find it’s noise a sweet caress and spend some time just ‘counting sheep’ until at last I fall asleep.

Last night I woke to the sound of two apartment blocks being evacuated at 3 in the morning. Poor buggers. Two fire alarms going off and a fire truck on the approach. Then wide awake I waited.

Phrase/Saying

  • Counting sheep – a very common phrase. Refers to when you have trouble falling asleep. You mentally count sheep in your head.

#Poetry – Tumbling down

With grinding teeth and sobbing tears my recent hopes, my greatest fears, came tumbling down into a mess. I hate these times I must confess. Cause when your world comes tumbling down there’s no-one there to ease that frown, and so you dwell upon each thing you cannot change…it sure does sting.

You can’t change what has happened and though a scar remains, that scar remains an emblem of life’s struggles and it’s pains. There is no silver lining. Your tears they’ll come to naught. Regardless of the matter nor how you feel distraught. 

So come on there brave soldier, let’s once more bare the load. Take up your pack upon your back, trudge forward on the road. Just remember it’s a journey with blissful times and pain. So focus on the good stuff and stamp them in your brain.

Photo by muhammad nuri on Pexels.com

#Poetry – Why artists paint

It’s colour, it’s form, it’s shade and technique. It’s the artist personified, original, unique!

We’re all just creative and passionately draw. We’ll draw on your woodwork, your wall or your door. Just give the OK and we’ll be there today, drawing pictures and paintings ’til the day gets away.

Did you want a commission? We can help you with that. We’ll pull out our paints and put on our hat. With berets in place we’ll draw up the plan. We’ll sort out the colours cause you know that we can.

At the end we’ll stand back with arms folded and beam. It’s no longer blank space…it’s an artists dream.

DEE GRANT 2021

#Poetry – Fishing Rod Races

The fish may not be biting but bored they’ll never be, cause they’re running on the boardwalk right there in front of me. 

Are they fishing rods or horses cause they seem to gallop on, pounding the boardwalk with their playful cheery song.

Boys with cheeky grins, with rods extended out. They run the race, reach the end, and turn themselves about. 

With slower pace these thoroughbreds wander back to fish. They bait their hooks, cast their lines. I know for what they wish!

I was walking along the boardwalk today. It was overcast but I was struck by the playfulness of a few boys that had come down with their dad to fish. Fishing with dad as a kid I know it can be ages before you get even a nibble. Great to see these boys were mixing up their day with this odd race along the boardwalk. It was hilarious!

Photo by Mau00ebl BALLAND on Pexels.com

#Poetry – Cold World

I came across this little poem recently that I wrote in my early 20’s. Can’t believe how down I was about the world back then nor how lost I felt. Thanks Dad for giving me the wiggle room to see the world through a different lens.

My life was but a battlefield a war within my soul, of building mighty fortresses against a cold world. A tough and hard exterior, a hardened view of life, of living up to others’ opinions for my life. 

But deep inside a child peered out amidst the mire. A gentle spirit, a gentle heart, the real me sat and cried. For loneliness and heartache had crushed this tender heart and all that was left within was but a little spark.

And I thank my loving father for fanning that spark to flame for showing me how to be myself and not have to be ashamed of who I am, or what I do, or how I see the world.

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

On the Tube – by Charlotte Smith

Today my young guest rhymer, Charlotte Smith, shares the things she enjoyed on her recent summer holiday.

As the seagulls squalk, and the pelicans soar, the dolphins swim and the sharks are seen no more

As the dingos roar and the boats go rumble, we go on the tube and take a tumble.

I’ve done a few flips, I’ve had a few flops, but never will I ever forget this awesome shot.

BY CHARLOTTE SMITH 2021

#Poetry – Flip Flops Fashionista

A multicoloured beach towel draped off her suntanned shoulder. Her trendy looking sunnies made her look that little older. She gently poured the sunscreen on her glistening skin and laughed at how the fake tan sure made her look so thin. 

Haviana’s are her flip flops. She walks onto the sand. She quickly flips them off, and holds them in her hand. It’s going to the beach she says. It’s the way we do it now. All about the swimsuit and a bod that just says wow.

Now you might think I’m shallow but I’m young and fun and free. Youth don’t last forever so on the beach I’ll be.

For Ella

BY DEE GRANT 2020

#Poetry – Superdog

Superdog is cute and small. Superdog loves playing ball.

While he can’t grab a bat, hit a ball, or make it splat, Superdog’s a mean machine, eyes like a hawk, willing and keen. 

Yes Superdog is cute and small but don’t misled if you throw that ball! Lightening speed caught mid air, he catches it with talent and flair. 

That’s Superdog so cool and small. Superdog the greatest dog of all! 

DEE GRANT 2020

I wrote this just for kids. 🙂

#Poetry – Spell of the harbour

We’re paddling our boat along the water glistening. In sparkling shades of white and blue I hear the harbour listening. 

Our laughter mixes on the breeze and joins each splash of oar, as the harbour listens to our tales that echo to the shore.

Picnics greet us round the bend with trees so lush and green. Still the harbour listens. Each picture paints a scene.

Along the shore past piers and parks, cicada’s chirping loudly. Our final clip the Harbour Bridge it greets us oh so proudly.

Exhausted now we moor our boat and bid a fond farewell. We won’t resist another trip it has us in her spell.

BY DEE GRANT 2020

Sydney Harbour looking west from Lady Macquarie’s Chair