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
I can hear you. In the waves of my space I hear your heartbeat. Eyes pulse through a kaleidoscope of reverberating paisley designs. The notes edge outward beyond my line of sight. I watch as the show begins. A shimmering spectacle as central vision disappears…if only for a moment. Then time, unfettered by containment lines, sends searing pain. Hello again unwelcome stranger.
DEE GRANT 2021
In this short piece I have tried to capture an eye migraine. ‘Unfettered by containment lines’ means that I didn’t take anything to resolve it. As many would know that suffer from eye migraines, if you treat it as soon as the signs appear you can sometimes avoid it turning into a migraine.
For me these make you cry with pain. Even the sound of water dripping on tiles makes your head scream. Showers become painful necessities. Light to your eyes is pure agony so no TV and no screen time. Have I done it justice?
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.
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
My best thoughts are in the clear of the night. Away from noise and garish light. I type away, keep sleep at bay, and reflect upon life’s everyday.
This rhyme is for you fellow traveller, for I know as you write the moon glows. You reflect on all that should matter, as your words sing soft tunes as you go.
Sleep well fellow traveller for tomorrow, we shall share our new tune for the day, and reflect on all that should matter, for this tune is our everyday.
BY DEE GRANT 2020
So I wrote this last night amongst a string of musings. I know I am not alone. There is a quietness here that provides clarity. I wonder if that is where people write their best work. If so there must be alot of tired writers out there.