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.
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.
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.
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.