Reibus

When I was very young war seemed, to me, to be too far away from me. We had a wonderful childhood! But as I grew up it came closer - a lot closer, with many soldiers from ANZAC going to Vietnam. I even went into an anti-Vietnam war protest march in Victoria St, Hamilton NZ, while I was still at school. There were quite a few other students. Not too long after that I joined the NZ Army - I thought I should join to stop war! I was a Corporal when I finally left. I still didn't truly understand war, but at that stage women were not supposed to actually fight on the war front. I have understood, too many years, what war is - and who starts it. Have a read of this poem and see if you really understand, not only the history but today. Listen to music they wrote about war Try and understand words You must know whatever they say They're singing about what occurred They sang about the Holocaust PNG and Vietnam And nuclear bombs which hit Japan And Spain, Korea and Guam Wh...

Finding people who would talk to me and are very close to home is leading me to positive thoughts. I can work against my depression, get back to where I used to be! If you have mental illness and you need support, there are quite a few of mental health websites on Google. I tried to start again, just months along from attempting to finish my life when time went wrong I didn't forgive "them" - they knew what they did - they didn't care about me, I vanished when they got rid Depression took me over, but some people did care became my friends - showed me, look, talk, share I think much better now, examining my future, my life is coming right, I'm starting to feel sure I drop, just occasionally, when things take too long but I can survive, I should know that - I am STRONG... Wish me well, all you who once knew me because I am different, I'm starting to BE!

Age, illness, poverty, some even face homelessness. I think quite a few people face what this poem is written about. Life had been up and down, and living it seemed a nightmare Imagine how you spend your day and you don't have friends who care You used to work, enjoyed your time, you used to love what you did But now you'd dropped off your world... you didn't ask for your skid You had surgery, you had a stroke, you didn't even know Your memory vanished, your speech had gone, you didn't know where to go One by one people walked away, you didn't know about 'when' Your income dried up, recovery too long, you'd never be normal again Hugs that you'd loved were gone too soon, writing became just your life The only thing that you now could do to stay out of strife You shut yourself into your little room, your voice disappeared too Your tears were just for you now, you hid them because you knew You thought about what was up ahead, where ...

I wrote the poem  "Time to forget"  back in  February 2014 . It's included in this prose. Does this sound like someone you know? She had nothing important to think about. Everything which had been valuable to her had gone. Including her children. They didn't even talk to her now. Lee could remember her history, but it no longer meant anything to her. She remembered her childhood. She knew that she had loved it, but now her parents were dead. Her husband had vanished, wherever she didn't know and didn't care. She had never disconnected the bond between her children and him; she had - then - felt that was important. However they now took him in, she didn't care about. Her only friend was her dog. Beautiful, she thought. She was 13 human years old, but in dog years she would be 91. Or maybe a bit older. Jess would die this year. Maybe. But Lee'd read a poem. She opened her favourite internet website, found the poem. She had loved it. Maybe it was...

The Redcliffe Peninsula Poet's Group is having a concert for the Valentines Day this year, so I wrote this little love poem. This tells a tale of unreal men. Looking out on the full, full moon on the eve of Valentine's Day I thought of my love, a wonderful man and wondered what he would say Would he tell me how much he had loved? Would he tell me who he'd fell for? Would he mention my name, would he compare me? I watched the full moon start to soar It swirled around with the man on its face looking down upon Earth He blinked, then smiled, then winked at me! I felt like I'd just been re-birthed! "Are you alive?" I asked the Man "How do you really live?" He smiled at me and took a deep breath, knowing what he would give "Trust in me," he said to me in a whispered voice very light "I can tell truth, not lies at all - this word is about this night." I sat down on Earth, feeling so tired; the Moon man blew over me Hi...

From my long years as a volunteer at Drury Lane Theatre where I grew up, I had heard the music so many times from the show "Fiddler on the Roof". The song "If I Were a Rich Man" always got me singing with it. I recently heard it again - so this time it lead into a warble of being rich, whether men or women. If I were a rich man... I'd think I'm lucky Just turn off thoughts of this I'm not a man I'm not ever rich I'd like, though, to live on in bliss! My name's not Fiddler (though sometimes I wish) I've never been on a roof Except when I built My own first home... The sale was a burden of proof! If I was a woman... that's gender correct... Do I turn this saying off too? I've got female breasts And other women stuff But I'm treated like I said "I do" I used my brain many years ago I'd tested okay most times If I was thoughtful Thinking ahead I'm not sure I'd still use these ...

Anita felt very grumpy. She had to go up to the local hospital for another test, but she didn’t really believe that they would find anything unless they did the real tests. She knew, she thought she did, what might be in her body, but she had sighed, got frustrated, even got angry, when she’d been up there before. No, they didn’t find anything, and yet she could tell them why her stomach was painful, why she had backaches, why her legs cramped, why there were hours when she couldn’t even see. Every single day she woke up early in the morning in pain, curled up with her stomach feeling like it was due to burst out, her head feeling like a migraine after putting up with the rest of her body for so long – and she believed that! She would lie on her side and concentrate on breathing in, breathing out, long slow breaths which she hoped, every day, would relieve her pain at least a little bit. It was a week since she’d last gone up to the hospital, to Emergency. She’d given them her ...