Breath by breath
Locked into time
Until hearts stop
Beats upon beat
RIP
Breath by breath
Locked into time
Until hearts stop
Beats upon beat
RIP
Apparently I have a ‘fake’ laugh. My daughter always points it out. It is her mission to make me aware of it. Often when she, or someone else, is saying something and a response is required, I will laugh. And then she responds, ‘fake laugh’. And so it goes. It happened again today!
Closet is not a word commonly used in South Africa or Australia. We rather use the word ‘cupboard’. The only way in which it is used is in the term ‘coming out of the closet’, or ‘still in the closet’.
This is our bedtime setting for tonight. Cuddly toys placed by my daughter, girls in one bed, boys in the other.
Most beautiful place, and the beds are so comfy!
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/bedtime/
Every morning on the way to school, my dad would buy his paper from the street vendor at one of the traffic intersections. If the traffic lights were green he would slow down, stick out his hand with the coins and the vendor would throw the paper inside. I would be in the front of the car sitting next to him. My dad would read the paper at every chance while smoking on his cigarette. Ah, the joys. It was the morning ritual.
In South Africa, the news headlines would be plastered along the street lamps every morning. So by the time you reached your destination, you had some idea of the current news. This was one of the things I missed when I arrived in Sydney. A few days passed and then I realized, I have no idea what the headlines are! There are no billboards.
Nowadays, I read my news online. Sometimes I get stuck on hot topics. I have two at the moment. The first is around Jacob Zuma and his friends the Guptas. Zuma is the president of South Africa, and has been judged (officially by the constitutional court) to have acted inconsistently with regards to the constitution. This ruling was made two weeks ago, and yet, he is still standing. Not resigned, not fired, nothing.
And my new hot topic is the Australian 60 Minutes Lebanon story. A team, including Tara Brown who I see every week on the Sunday evening episode, have been detained in Lebanon. They were attempting to reunite children taken by their Lebanese father with their Australian mother. They have had their passports taken, and are currently being detained (what were they thinking, grabbing children in a foreign country to give back to the mother?).

My very first car was metallic green. It looked like the one featured here. I bought it in December 1997, and it was stolen in March 2000. It was recovered a few weeks later, completely stripped and hardly recognizable. The insurance company was resisting payment, it was one of those occasions I needed a man to stand up for me, my father took on the fight and they paid the next day. And so it goes, I had a similar incident last week, which I’m fairly certain if my husband had taken on, would have resulted in a different outcome. Or perhaps I am just not assertive enough. I think that is what it is!

In a not so far away time, I will be in a faraway place.
In a faraway land, far from home.
Here I am sitting on the bus thinking of the word street. And out of nowhere Elaine Paige started singing in my mind, I used to sing karaoke to this when I was a child!
Memory Lyrics
Midnight not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
Memory, All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Every streetlamp seems to beat
A fatalistic warning
Someone mutters and the street lamp gutters
And soon
It will be morning
Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn’t give in.
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
A streetlamp dies; another night is over
Another day is dawning…
Touch me!
It’s so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun…
If you touch me, you’ll understand what happiness is
Look, a new day has begun
I’m reposting a handwritten poem from last year. It shows my scribbly handwriting! No delete button so for the sake of eligibility and timesaving it is unedited and just as it appeared to me. Actually all my writing is like that, but the delete key sure comes in handy at times. Mostly these days all my writing is typed, and most of my poetry and blog posts are tapped onto my iPhone. Actually, my thumb joints are beginning to complain. I can see myself ending up with arthritis (please no!).
I’ve just noticed this could have doubled up as yesterday’s daily prompt for Refresh. Gosh, nothing came to mind yesterday for Refresh, I’ve been thinking of it the whole day (well, not really!), and here it is right here in the poem!
Across the water
The lights flickered and shone
The night air was cool and calm and still
You wrapped me in your arms
As I breathed in the romance of your
Kisses on my face
My neck, my shoulders
Your love refreshed my soul
And I know I will never
Forget you
Oh how I long
To hear
Your voice
Darling tonight
I’m aching to
Hear your
Voice crying
Out to me
I can make you
Desire me
If only
You were here