Mystery box
Beside my bed
With tiny note
Open me if you dare
I opened it
And as I did
I heard music
Playing to me
Paint my love
For all my life
Be at my side
Please, be my wife
I will be your bride
I will take your hand
I will walk through life
Painting your love
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “My Hero.”
When my mood is low
He leaves me be
When I need help
He rescues me
When I awake
He brings me tea
If its coffee I would like
He brews me one
When I wished for a ring
He bought some gold
When I longed for babies
He gave me two
When I want to talk
He will lend an ear
Two things he will not do
One is listen to me sing
It hurts his ears
Or read all my poetry
There are too many words
But even so
If there was a hero
I would have to choose
My husband
Because I love him
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Secret Santa.”
I would give my father
Whom I never see
Being worlds apart
A private health fund
So he could get
The health he needs
To visit in Sydney
And meet the grandkids
He doesn’t know
*image to follow*
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “To Be Resolved.”
Every year my hopes and dreams
Are the same as those of years gone by
Lose weight, exercise, eat well, sleep well, and read a book
This year I have gained weight, started Pilates, never felt hunger, survived on three hours sleep, and written a book
Next year my hopes and dreams are not the same as years gone by
Because for next year
My hopes and dreams are as follows
Lose weight, exercise well, eat well, sleep well, and publish a book
Each day when falling the first time in love
That crazy, mixed up place
Secretly, when no words can be said
I would hear these words on the radio
And I knew, I just knew this would be our song
Just a short while, the best will be saved for last
Butterflies in my tummy!
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Cause, Meet Effect.”
Happiness is…
Bookcase brimming with books
Cracklin Rosie wafting past my senses
Voice of Neil Diamond – bliss
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Final Trio.”
Time slipping through my fingers
Being released and flying far away
Just as I would lift my eyes to
Watch as a balloon floats
Higher, smaller into the skies
Until it can be seen no more
So does my time fly further from me
Until there is no more left
To do the things I need to do
And all that remains
Are memories of a faded day
(I need to write a software system by Tuesday, and am not very far in progress. I may be offline on the weekend #becausefocus)
We have a lemon, but only one and its green
In seasons past
I have dreamed
Of fruit trees
And worm farms
Composting bins
Vegetables fresh
Hand grown by me
Strawberries
Passion fruit
Blueberries too
Overflowing gardens
Feeding the family
I invested
In pots and saplings
Seeds and gardening things
And at seasons end
The bugs and birds
Had a feast and
All I had to show
For my time
My effort
My money
Was a handful of tomatoes
A few green beans
And a lemon tree
#notquitefeedingthefamily
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Object of My Dejection.”
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Language of Things.”
To my husband
A bicycle – because cycling
Bicycle magazines – because cycling
Bicycle helmet – because safety
Bicycle lights – to light up the night
Bicycle kit – because cycling
Water bottle – because hydration
Photo of smiling wife – because love
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Unsung Heroes.”
When my artist friend becomes famous
My claim to fame could be
I have a painting by her hand
From her hand as a friendship gift
Kindly given to me
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty
William Blake
Poems and Petals 