Reibus

I'm not a huge christmas fan, but I loved to write a poem about my aneurysm at christmas time. (Clement Clarke Moore wrote originally about Santa.) 'Twas the night before Christmas, all aside from the aneurysm Not a creature was stirring and no one had rheumatism. The stockings were hung - although most didn't exist (In hopes that trees would be added on, but mostly were missed). The children were nestled, all snug in their beds, While visions of Santa danced round in their heads. With me in my nightie, alone with no kids, I'd just settled my aneurysm for a long nap without skids, When out on the lawn there arose such a noise - I sprang from my bed to see who had the voice. Away to the window I flew like a bird, I tore open the curtains, all outside looked blurred. The moon on the breast of the hottest of lawn Looked rather duller and very, very forlorn, When what to my wondering eyes did appear, But an awesome PT with no tiny rein-deer, With no littl...

I had the very good fortune recently to attend a Gunnas Writing Masterclass with Catherine Deveny. Catherine's irreverant and humorous presentation makes this a must-do day for new and existing writers alike. During the day we had timed writing periods, and for the last one of these sessions we selected picture and word cards, not unlike QWC's "Morning Glory" sessions and wrote for 10 minutes. I happened to draw the words "Alice in Wonderland" and a picture of two entertainers in an old-fashioned balancing act with two bicycles. This is my "10 minute fiction", which also was published on Catherine's website for a short while. Once upon a time in Wonderland, Alice was sitting quietly under her favourite tree, reading her book, when she looked up and saw the Mad Hatter bouncing down the road towards her. "Whatever is the matter?" she called out. "The circus," he shouted. "The circus is here and I'm going to be ...

The old lady rocks her chair in place, myriad lines etched into her face She’s not long for this life, she’s done her time – she remembers long ago when in her prime Young and pretty, so full of life, met a young man, became his wife But fairy tales aren’t real, they’re all in the mind – from then on her life was not very kind Four children and sags on her body to show the pain and the stresses that no man could know And her husband, once her valiant prince, grew tired of her, left – hasn’t been seen since Always a struggle to feed her brood, but she battled on whatever her mood Clothing them, loving them, reading them books, ignoring the neighbours’ judgmental looks As she let another man into her door, work of kind, so they wouldn’t be poor She knew of the whispers, she knew what they said, ignored it, let it go over her head I’m not a whore, she said to herself, as she hid a few dollars at the back of the shelf As her babes grew and flew...

18 January 2014 - I attended a writer's workshop, and took the bus into town. From the time I got to my local bus terminal, on the bus, walking through the halls to the library, and waiting in the library foyer, I felt invisible. No-one made eye contact, and I thought of the many times this same thing has happened. That inspired this poem. Do you feel alone in a crowd? Do you feel unwelcome? Invisible, although you know You're nothing less than human. But no-one looks you in the eye, It's like they just don't see you. You don't create an impact, You don't engage their view. It doesn't matter what you wear Or how outrageous your shoes, Their attention focuses elsewhere, You're not a vista they choose. They pass you by, engaged in thought Few of them ever smile. They're wrapped up in their troubled world, Never going the extra mile. Perhaps one day their world will crash And then they'll wander too, Looking for that twinkling e...

I wrote this in December 2013, and used it for a poetry competition at Logan Library a couple of years later. I didn't win, but I got some good comments. Don’t tell me not to protest, I’m going to speak my mind. I’m mad as hell at where we’re at, the course that you’ve defined. You know that what you’re doing’s wrong, you can lie but you can’t hide the devastation you leave behind – what happened to your pride? You do not have a mandate, regardless of what you think – are there no depths left to which you will not sink? We used to have a country of which we could be proud but your climate change denial is leaving a big dust cloud. You’re killing the Reef, the trees, the earth, you’ve all but lost the plot. Our heritage, our future, to you don’t mean a jot. You’ve taken from the poor, the gap widens in every way but it’s not the poor who’ve got us to the state we’re in today. You’ve no shred of humanity to care for refugees, could you survive in the a...

On living with a brain aneurysm. There's this thing in my head, my doc says it's small But I know it's there so it doesn't feel small at all. It's lying in wait, it could kill me you know - Or I could grow old and it'll all be for show. There's this thing in my head but no-one can say If it's going to burst or be happy to stay. Two CT scans now, an angiogram soon I'm marching to the neuro guy's tune. There's this thing in my head, I just want it out. Do you think they'll move faster if I stand up and shout? They gave me a brochure, it didn't say much I've got heaps of questions about mortality and such. There's this thing in my head but I've made up my mind It's there, I can't change it, whatever they find. My life is for living, I've so much to do So this thing in my head - I'm ignoring you!

The fun side of fun runs! This is a little ditty about support gone sadly wry, a story about the day my boobs hung me out to dry. I have two humps in front of me, I'll call them Left and Right, they're mostly well supported, and usually out of sight. This tale is of a day of woe when, unbeknownst to me, Left and Right were making plans to escape, get out, be free! That day I would be running (or walking, truth be told), a local centre raising funds from all the tickets sold. The day began as any day - awake, get up, get fresh. I carefully dried my Left and Right and encased them in their mesh. I stood before the mirror and admired my structured pair - my more-than-ample cleavage (rather more than my fair share!) I pulled a t-shirt on and down, covering my Left and Right, and set in train their dastardly plans - out of mind when out of sight! The race was started in the cold, my nipples stood alert - the only warning I would get of plans made 'neath my shir...