Season’s Greeting

Season’s Greeting

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photo credit: myriams-fotos

Gone are the days of thirst and heat.

Long lost is the warmth of a noon-day beach.

iPods, iPads, even I, Tonya repeatedly re-visited.

Marshmallow toasties,

Mum’s backyard campfires,

Evenings now spent just wishing to perspire.

“Relax!” springs forth from the exhuberant young miss. “I’m back!”

… finally!





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photo credit: AD images

You saunter by each weekday
In your suit and backpack.
Talking on your mobile
Starbucks in hand.

You sail by each weekend
In your hipster clothes and scooter
Plugged in, singing
Someplace to go.

You struggle by each evening
Every step an effort
A victory against debilitation
Survival of the fittest.

You sashay by each Thursday
In your designer workout gear
Smiling at your phone
Sun salutations await.

You stroll by every Tuesday and Friday
Okay, sometimes you jog
Eyes ever alert
Stylish dogs on leashes.

You strut by every daylight hour
In your feathery finery
Sometimes you coo
Sometimes you poo.

You stomp by every Wednesday
In your too-tight uniform
You hate your job, don’t you?
Scowling won’t make it better.

I see you all
I see more than I should.
I am not invisible.
It is you who do not see.



Where Were You?

Where Were You?

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photo credit: shwa hall

Where were you last night?
And the night before?
What is this strange scent?
Whose glove is this by the door?

Where were you last weekend?
Why didn’t you answer my call?
Was it you that made the hinge squeak at 5?
You know, from the door in the hall?

What’s this red petal on your collar?
What’s this stain on your coat?
What have you been up to?
What’s this smudge on your throat?

You really are a wandering minstrel
You tiny rescued scoundrel
You really need to mend your ways
Because I’ll follow you out one day.



I Can Dream. Right?

I Can Dream. Right?

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photo credit: aleksandr1982

I insist on being polite
And have raised the kids to be so.
I persist in believing there is kindness and good
Even when there are bullies and sadists, I know.

Why can’t we resist the urge to insult or taunt?
To hurt with words or deeds?
Can’t the world consist of more angels and givers
Than narcissists or brokers of power and greed?

Be a synthesist of hope and humanity
Cease and desist with the cruelty and hate.
Build bridges and bonds of love and faith
Spread honour, kindness and trust instead.





Go tidy your room
Go read your book
Go practise your violin
Go do your homework

It’s now 10 pm
It’s time to sleep
It’s now 6 am
It’s time to wake

Go for your tuition
Go for your class
Go for your practice
Go for your game

Why can’t you be
More like your cousins?
They’re doing so well
You are so useless

Go revise your work
Go take your vitamins
Go clean your shoes
Go wash your bottle

You are so lacking
In initiative and imagination
You are so useless
You can’t do anything.



What Are You Thinking?

What Are You Thinking?






Dental nurse

Border patrol officer

Kid next door

Police officer




How come I can’t keep a straight face with you

But you are inscrutable?



Thank you, julesaprilkitty and past reminisce, for the inspiration.



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photo credit: jessica henderson


… a new identity: husband, wife, an “us” to grow

… role: father, mother, a family to build

… persona: changing perspectives of the world

… behaviours: changes perceived by the world

… lessons: teaching a child

… learning: taught by the child

… a hole: a munchkin leaving for college

… a new whole: husband, wife, an “us” to grow





I Have Issues With Tissues

I Have Issues With Tissues


Iโ€™ve always thought of tissues
As cellular matter:
An ensemble of cells
To make us stronger or fatter.
As little square sheets
For wiping food splatters,
Or stifling our sneezes
In the midst of our chatter.

Then came the revelation,
The dismayed observation
That tissues could be โ€ฆ
Tools of reservation!

Hungry people prowled,
With trays laden with food.
Tables around them sat vacant
Yet some ate where they stood.

The reason, you see,
Is this phenomenon called โ€˜chopeโ€™.
In hawker centres and food courts,
Want a seat? See the tissues? Abandon hope.
Because every packet of tissues
Marks a reserved lot;
Each owner will be back
With his food, to his spot.

But must we obey tissues?!
Canโ€™t we toss them aside?
Who started this โ€˜chopeโ€™ thing anyhow?
Why must we all abide?

These packets of tissues
Should not be more powerful than laws.
Tissues are for blowing noses
And wiping sweat off our jaws.

Yet weโ€™ve allowed this -
This bizarre situation
Where a tiny inanimate oblong
Is a tool of reservation.