Reibus

Have you read the Three Little Pigs in your childhood? How about Red Riding Hood ? You know, of course (don't you?) that they have been around for years . Roald Dahl and Jon  Scieszca knew the real  tales, and the're available on You Tube or published. Have a look at the You Tube videos  The True Story of the Three Little Pigs or   Revolting Rhymes - Three Little Pigs . Or look up the real books in Penguin Random House or in Angus & Robertson .  I wrote a ... sort of ... review of these books. Enjoy! Wolf vs the Pigs – and Red Riding Hood @ Louisa Reid When Jon wrote the tale of wolf vs pigs The teller told of himself Who was, as he said, A hero and kind (*cough cough*) You can meet him from your bookshelf! In this tale he said he would sneeze Which, we now know, let him down If you’ve ever sneezed Then maybe you would know That sneeze became his breakdown He couldn’t trap the pigs while he sneezed at them He tried to break into

Poetry is inspirational. It is magical; lyrical; metaphorical; figurative imagery; tension, rhythm and emotion. It is all of those and much, much more! If you love poetry, you understand it. Years ago I became entranced with poetry. As a child I had learned children’s poems like Baa Baa Sheep and Jack and Jill . As I grew up I began writing my own poems. I fell in love with the ‘cats’ poems written by T.S. Eliot: Andrew Lloyd Webber used the poems for his Cats musical, and to sing them and see them on stage hooked viewers. I have recently read a poem by Douglas Adams (author of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) written in his class at school in 1970 that seemed to sound so good (read it yourself!). My personal poetry changed from enjambment to villanelle to free verse to rhyme, yet I wrote my poems as stories, comedies, songs, feminism, environmentalism and politics. For me, poetry tells my own tales. This one I wrote in 1975, and it told just how I had felt after I

Two nights ago, 30 January, I watched a news article on ABC about the rapists who violently abused Jyoti Singh in December 2012 who are to be hanged, 1 February 2020. Because they reported from India, ABC said that they couldn’t use the name of the woman who was raped. I know who she was – and so does every other global newspaper and media I have read since December 2012. I will continue to use her name. Earlier in 2012 I had started the Whacksworks blog. On 1 December 2012 I went to the inauguration TEDxSouthBankWomen in Brisbane, but I didn’t write about what caused me to cry for a long time after this excellent TEDx event. I was supported very well, there. Jyoti was raped only two weeks after my breakdown. On 16 December 2012, in Munirka, South Delhi, India, Jyoti and her partner got onto a bus to go home from the movies, not knowing it was a private bus with 6 violent men on it. Those men beat Jyoti and her boyfriend, Awindra Pratap Pandey, with iron bars, viciously rap

In my Facebook page I have seen so many comments from deniers who simply don’t believe in climate change. They have berated the extinction protestors, the school protestors, the protestors of the Adani coal…. But I don’t think they have read anything they should read. This climate change is HAPPENING. If you believe in climate change, then pass this on to anyone you know who doesn’t believe in it. The stuff listed on here are REAL. In 1955 the California Institute of Technology geochemists had found that fossil fuel combustion had increased the concentration of atmospheric carbon by about 5%. This started the climate change event. 1957, Humble Oil scientists published a study analysing the “enormous quantity of carbon dioxide” since the Industrial Revolution 1968, Stamford Research Institute with API concluded that burning fossil fuels could bring “significant temperature changes” by 2000 1977, the American Geophysical Union predicted that fossil fuels would have

Temps move up, it’s getting too hot and bushfires pop up on any old plot Houses burn down, some people will die - they can’t see the road, they can’t see the sky Who’s there to help them, to get them out? Who knows what’s going on, who is about? Flames rage up and reach tops of trees and the ground is full of koala bodies The sky is yellow and orange and red and all animals panic, so full of dread What do you see? Are you there to fight? The bushfire can kill you – are you alright? Where’s the water? Is it out of the sea? Are you calm, can you foresee? How many hours has this now burned? Are enough people really concerned? It’s far too hot, the temperature’s up, when this will go out – how can we clean up? I’m not at this fire, I watch everyday and I cry myself, just thinking betray So many animals, left on their own; so many evacuees from the hotzone It’s burned too long, it’s killed this land: climate change exists – do you understand?

I sit in my house, feeling quite cold My memory so clear but nothing resolved I think of my life, my precious childhood Remember what happened when I was involved I learned how to swim, ride a bike and run Write poems and stories and read so much Rode horses, loved sheep, kept lots of mice Loved cats and dogs which I just wanted to touch It’s far far away, I’ve lost some memory But writing is now, it’s me in recovery I can think of my future and write all my thoughts Ride a bike, love cats and dogs, climb up a tree Just go for a drive, keep loving the country Walk by a stream or climb up a hill I’m at the top, I’m feeling I’m good This feeling is mine, my perfect free will So to keep me warm I must keep on writing Poems, short stories, a novel or two Writing is my future, my every day To all those who read, thank you, thank you!

I met this girl a few months ago, She stayed with me and started to grow. She’d had an op to clean her out And now she chose to sleep about. She stayed inside from early morning And curl up asleep til she woke up yawning When I let her out as Marlene… Or Dietrich might have shone her sheen! I slept in my bed while she stayed outside, She plodded around, glowing in pride. She knocked on the door all through time To come back in and feast on her prime! She’d fight out there and sometimes she’d win; I’d jump at the noise and she would grin. She made my home and she loves that But… how would I ad-dress that Cat?