Sunday, November 24, 2013

Tasty Little Morsels

Dehydrated mouse brains*
are not my favourite snack.
Not my type
of party food
I’m likely to
turn up my nose
and swiftly give them back.

Even if they’re salted
I cannot stand the taste
so giving me these tidbits
will only be a waste

The fact that they’ve
been extricated
from a rodent’s head
only makes them worse
you see
to know a mouse is dead
in order to provide me
with this morsel
of good health.
I’ll never touch them,
No not me
I’ll use my meagre wealth
to dine on things
deemed more nutritious
and definitely
less suspicious
than these bitter,
bumpy, crunchy lumps
which I’ll leave behind
for other chumps.

If inadvertently devoured
one’s mouth is
permanently soured.
But worse than that
I’ve come to find
these little brains
seep into yours
and infiltrate your
point of view and
unsuspecting mind.

If you don’t believe me
try if you dare
for I know you’ll succumb
to a terrible scare
when you waken
after a turbulent night
to see cats and cheese
in a whole new light.


Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Remembrance Day

Struggling to make headway writing anything other than indecipherable scribble in my journal on the bus trip to Hobart yesterday due to the constant bumping and thumping, I decided to have a break and take in the scenery instead. It was a rather opportune moment, as the bus had just pulled off the highway to let a passenger off in Ross. Not until we headed off again did I realise what the time was, so on this day when the faithful had taken time out to remember those who had left this little country town and not returned, I couldn’t let the moment pass.

Remembrance Day

No minute’s silence
as the bus passes
the handful gathered
with bowed heads
at the cenotaph
in the heart of town.

No respect
for those long dead.
No time
to spare a thought.
No pause
in the race from
here to there.
all but the schedule.

The passenger
had walked the aisle
at two minutes to eleven,
stepped off
and just as quickly
the bus sucked in its door,
cocooning us
at one minute to,
pulled away from the kerb
and dared to disturb
the reverence
as it brushed past the diggers
with medalled chests
right on eleven.

No minute’s silence
No respect
for those long dead
No pause
in the race
from here to there.

Saturday, November 9, 2013

The Grinning Mountain

Don’t you just love the quirkiness of Nature? I’m sure there are moments when Nature conspires to take us by surprise when we’re least expecting it. Put up the blind this morning after a yucky rainy day yesterday to see the mountain covered in snow. Hadn’t realised it was that cold, I mean we are into the last month of Spring after all, but then again this is Tasmania, so with camera in hand thought I’d head out to see if I could get a decent shot.

Didn’t have to go far. Heading for the bush, there staring down at me, taking me completely off guard, was the biggest, craziest grin. Cracked me up. I was tossing up whether the mountain was laughing at us mere mortals below who’ve been wondering when Spring would really show itself and give us a bit more warmth, or whether it was beckoning us to come and play.

By the sound of the steady stream of cars heading up the mountain, I think many must have forsaken their normal routine and responded to the call, a good choice I reckon.

Whether an untimely fall of snow, spectacular sunrise or sunset, invigorating bushwalk, cascading waterfall, the beautiful aroma as I mow under the lemon scented eucalypt, the greeting of a blue wren on my window sill while having my morning cuppa, an echidna who’s ventured far off course and is exploring my backyard, these things and countless more bring a smile to my face.

They take me out of my rigid little world of seemingly important things that insist on being done, and remind me there is a crazy creator out there who delights in giving us pleasure, who wants us to relate to him, and if he has to smile down at me from the mountain to get my attention, well, I guess that’s just the way he’s going to do it.