When all was pink when all was grey
You packed your bags and went away
Far greener pastures did you seek
You travelled far you travelled bleak
Then one day glowing gold so true
A novel quest so bright it grew
Now pink is red and grey is black
No need to make the journey back
DEE GRANT 2021
It is in silence I create, I can decipher, I can relate Random gems of unknown purity, bubble up from deep obscurity Bubbling up clear unfettered, not encased in tunes so lettered
I know the silence that you seek, a place to ponder a place to speak Not with words that close your mind, but open pathways all entwined For in this place you can create, you can reflect, you can debate
And when all thoughts have quietened down, and questions lose their tensioned frown You elevate from noisy spheres, and find that space set free from fear A masterpiece is what you paint, random sketches of a saint.
Happy barks resounding across a damp and soggy noon
Our dogs so glad to be let out, their barks create a tune.
Some high some low. Some fast some slow. A baritone or two,
Create a chorus on the grass that's loud and fun and true.
They march through giant puddles and with each resounding bark,
They wag their tails, run and splash, in this wet and sodden park.
Inspired after listening to all the dogs at the local park today. It has been raining heavy for over a week. There are floods in Greater Sydney and up and down the State of NSW. A house was even swept away. Today a break in the weather so lots of dogs and their owners out and about.
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!
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.
I read today that mozzies love sweat, smells of floral, and beer…you bet. If water hangs ’round more than a week. There’ll be out by the hundreds. The outlook is bleak!
Cause they’ll get you at sunset or sunrise if they can. They’ll breed in still water a saucepan or pan. Bet your sick of them buzzing and biting. It’s shite! So how can you stop those bites in the night.
If your aircon drips water when its working away, drop in oil or vinegar or empty that tray. Put wet sand round your plants if you must use a saucer, no bird baths or dog bowls if that water gets older. You don’t want it stagnant and hanging around, keep it moving and fresh or they’ll feel safe and sound. Then there’s herbs, and nets, and bug spray you bet. Potions old potions new, you’d think we’d be set.
Those blood sucking monsters won’t see no reason, there still licking their lips as they wait for that season.
BY DEE GRANT 2020
Sick of hitting you head as you try to swat that mozzie? I love putting facts to rhyme so I thought I’d throw this one together. They say there is a mosquito plague in Sydney at the moment so ‘fat chance’ I’ll get it sorted with so many apartments next to me. ‘Not sure it will make a scrap of difference’ but I guess it’s ‘worth a crack’.
Fat chance – Not much chance
Not sure it will make a scrap of difference – Not sure it will make any difference