20.1.11

Echoes Of The Dreaming

Poetry


A tribute to the indigenous people of Australia 
& an expression of my love for my country as a sixth generation Australian.


I love a wondrous country
surrounded by her sea
God’s centre of the land
in peace and harmony

Snowy mountain peaks
and sweeping plains beyond
Echos of the dreaming
early kookaburra’s song

Hidden sparkling rivers
ageless trees of ghostly gum
My land, my home serene
caressed by glorious sun

***



© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

17.1.11

Misty - Our Friend

Poetry


It was many many years ago
that our friend came to stay.
She jumped over the back fence
and charmed us that very day.

She was patient, kind and caring
and soothed my daughters’ heart.
We knew that it was heaven sent
right from the start – or did we?

The gold fish went missing.
The neighbours were in uproar;
their dogs were being beaten up.
What were fences meant for?

My visitors were anxious
if they looked her in the eye.
She became well known
for letting a right hook fly.

The dead pigeons were left
where they couldn’t be missed.
Scolding didn’t help at all
the response was a deadly - hiss!

She stayed for several years
and then one day – she left.
We thought we would be glad,
but instead we were quite bereft.

By now you know she was a cat
and - Misty was her name.
Despite all the angst she caused,
we still miss her - just the same!

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

8.1.11

The Ant and The Butterfly

Children's Picture Book



James went to visit his Grandpa one day
Into the garden they went, where James could play

While Grandpa bent and pulled the weeds
James watched the butterflies dance in the breeze

He studied an ant darting around on the ground
and was amazed at what he found

‘Grandpa, would you rather be an ant or a butterfly?’
Grandpa looked up, with a glint in his eye

‘I know a story you might like to hear’
‘Come sit on my knee and lend me your ear’

One day a butterfly was flying around
She noticed an ant scurrying around on the ground

Studying his movements all through the day
she was so impressed, she heard herself say

‘I wish I could be an ant, so small, yet strong
I could build impressive structures all day long

Meanwhile the ant had been watching the butterfly
He watched her graceful movements out of the corner of his eye

‘I wish I could be a butterfly so attractive and carefree
I would fly around all day - there would be so much to see

The Nature Queen shook her head in dismay
but waved her magic wand granting their wishes for a day

As the sun started its decent and the day drew to a close
The Nature Queen arrived with a question to pose

‘Miss Butterfly, Mr Ant – tell me, if you will
Would you like to remain as you were today, still?’

Miss Butterfly looked up to the coloured sky
and responded with a heartfelt sigh

‘For all the ants strength and agility,
I’d rather be there, in the air - I'd rather feel free

The ant looked longingly at the scene below
And was eager for The Nature Queen to know

‘For all the butterflys floating grace and freedom of care
I’d rather have my feet on the ground - I'd rather be there.’

The Nature Queen nodded smilingly at the two
And waved her magic wand, without ado

‘Nature has its reasons,’ I'm sure you now see
We are the way we're meant to be

‘So, tell me James’, said Grandpa, with a twinkle in his eye
‘Which would you rather be – an ant or a butterfly?’

‘Grandpa !’ admonished James, as he jumped off Grandpa’s knee
‘Of course – I’m glad I'm - ME!’


© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

7.1.11

Morris

Creative Writing - Children's Picture Book


Morris is a special bear.
He doesn't say much, but you know he is there.


If you need someone to cuddle he can take the biggest squeeze.
And he doesn't even mind if you forget to say please.


He'll rest quietly in your room all day.
But he will always join in if you want to play.


He loves to play hide-'n-seek.
You might even find him under your seat.


He'll smile as he watches you draw, read and run.
It makes him happy to see you have fun.


No matter what you tell him - it's a secret that you share.
You can tell him anything you like - he's a secret-keeping bear.


He snuggles up to you as you drift off to sleep.
But he always knows if you try to take a peek.


And when you float away to the land of dreams - it's good to know,
Morris will hold your hand - everywhere you go.

***
© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

A Traitorous Friend

Poetry


It’s difficult to know how it happens
And it’s never easy to remember, when.
It creeps up slowly and silently
And becomes a traitorous, best friend.

It confuses the thinking process
For thoughts become a tangled mess.
It denies the heart from feeling
For a heart can love no - less.

It makes for an excuse to give up
Concealing anything to look forward to.
Everything means – nothing
And nothing is the only thing, true.

Depleted of energy to fight
Void of the willingness to try
Quiet acceptance of life as it is
Even the willingness, to die.

Dark and sad and lonely
And yet numbingly, deceitfully, safe.
It is a thief of heart, mind and soul,
A destroyer of love, hope and faith.

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

6.1.11

A Once Tranquil Mind

Poetry


Ideas flood a once tranquil mind.

There is no where to go,
except with the flow.

Days and nights of writing;
fingers aching from overuse.

There is no excuse.

Words spill forth, forming sentences, paragraphs,
until at last;
completion arrives.

But to what end?

Without a friend
to read and absorb the creation from your mind,
which will now bind your thoughts together.

And they will find;
ideas flood a once tranquil mind.



*** 

© Copyright Jsn Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

Friday Night Fun and Games

Poetry


It’s Friday night in Aussie land,
and while the young ones part-tay;
we of the older generation,
have fun our own way.

Hubby is in the next room,
sorting out the football refs;
because it’s Friday Night Football here,
and the TV has no rest.

I’m enjoying writing this poem,
putting together words that flow;
while hubby is erupting with words,
of ‘forward pass’ and ‘go…go...!’

I know he’s having fun,
even though you may wonder;
because he gets up with a groan,
as the team he’s following - blunder.

It’s not his teams fault!
In fact, without a word of a lie;
it’s those b....y refs, of course;
they’ve ‘got it in’ for his side.

So, when the game is over,
and he pokes his head inside the door;
I’ll look up pretending not to know
who claimed the bigger score.

***

© Copyright J M Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

5.1.11

I Was There

Poetry


You did not know
I was there when you stood under the old maple tree,
yearning for what was beyond the distant blue tinged hills,
tears streaming down your cheeks unchecked, 
your heart aching for your mothers arms.
I was there.

You did not know
I was there while you waited to be called,
resigned in your mind,
defeated in your heart.
The life inside of you to be destroyed
even before it had begun.
I was there.

You did not know
I was there as he looked beseechingly into your eyes
and denounced the accusations of infidelity,
while you neared your first born child’s first breath.
Vulnerable and trusting
oh, so trusting – in vain.
I was there.

You did not know
I was there during all those years of sleepless nights
while he tried to drown his sorrows.
Long nights of fear and worry,
protecting your little ones
from what they should not hear or see.
I was there.

You did not know
I was there when you could take no more.
Gathering up your children
and striding out the door, with dignity.
The uncertainty ahead as vivid
as a winding track with an obscured ending.
I was there.

You did not know
I was there when you wished upon a star
with the  faith of an angel
despite the deeds of man.
True love and peace coming to you - at last.
I, your guardian angel, celebrating.
I will always be there!

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

I Need to Write a Shopping List!

Poetry


I need to write a shopping list;
I'm always forgetting 'this' or 'that'.
If I write down what I can think of,
by shopping time I'll have it down pat.

I won't need to rack my brain with a frown;
I'll have more time to peruse.
I will get better value overall,
because I'll have the time to choose.

Where is that pen?
Who eats these things?
I thought of something.
Oh bother - the phone rings.

This marker pen will do.
Oh dear - the writing's gone through,
and there's no cleaner left;
I must write that down too.

Aha - I've found my daughters crayon.
Now what do I need?
Oh - someone's knocking at the door;
'Just a minute!' - I plead.

Oh joy - the delivery man wanted me to sign.
I wasn't being dishonest there;
I just needed to borrow his pen for a while.
I'm sure he has a spare.

Now - nothing will deter me;
I have a task I need to do.
What do I need?
Let's start with 'packets of pens' - times two.

Why won't this pen work!
It's running out of ink.
I might be able to write a few items down;
I'll remember the others - I think.

Relief - I can read the indentations on the paper;
I've succeeded in this quest of mine.
Now I'm all prepared,
but I'm running out of time.

I jump in the car and hurtle away,
and with a new thought, I utter a moan.
I remember the one thing I wish I hadn't;
I've left the shopping list at home!

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

Gunna

Poetry


Gunna was in interesting fella
he always had a yarn to tell

When others were at a loss for words
Gunna's words kept you under a spell

He had the most grandiose dreams
to obtain wealth and fame

Others may have tried and failed
but he would succeed all the same

He would be thinking and planning
from day break to sun set

And then he would elaborately explain
how it was all a sure bet

His ideas were flawless
and his enthusiasm sound

But with all the best at heart
here is what I found

Gunna spent so much time
talking about what he was going to do

That he forgot something important
in making his dreams come true

He had his thoughts in alignment
he had his words intact

But to actually achieve success
- he needed to act.

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

4.1.11

Alone At Last

Poetry


Alone at last, thirty years past
it seems like yesterday somehow
You encourage me from the corner
though I still keep my vow

Our love affair began so young
at first fumbling and raw
growing with anticipation
and the need to explore

It soon became apparent
we possessed a natural flow
but it was ruined by expectation
from those - in the know

They wanted us to seal our union
it would bring joy to many more
and consume my life completely
so I headed out the door

Yet now, so surreal
I still feel the connection we did share
After all this time, can it be
has it changed, and do I dare?

As I run my fingers along the keyboard
past hurts begin to mend
joy, release and comfort once more
my beloved piano, my long lost friend.

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

2.1.11

Love

Poetry


Love is the flower that blooms eternally,
from the seed of hope, nurtured by faith!

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.

1.1.11

Dining Dilemma

Short Story


'Jim asked me to call 'round after work, so I'll be home late,' Peter stated as he brushed Carol's cheek with a swift kiss. Carol really liked Peter’s brother but lately every time Peter mentioned his name it made her feel a bit glum.

'Uh-huh,' Carol answered tiredly as the front door slammed and the battered blue Ford ute quickly roared to life and hurtled down the street, signaling Peter was on his way to work.

Carol drained the remainder of her coffee, then forced herself to stand up, wondering why the caffeine still hadn't kicked in and why she was feeling so tired.  After all, the sun was shining outside already and the birds were chirping contentedly in the garden.  Usually this was enough for Carol to feel quite content and full of energy.

'Good morning Jenny.' Carol greeted her eldest daughter, purposefully pretending cheerfulness as Jenny breezed into the kitchen, dressed, preened and ready to get on with her day.

I wish I could feel like Jenny looks, mused Carol as she watched her daughter's ritual of pouring Lite White milk into her bowl of museli.

'You'd better wake Tommy, Mum - he's still dead to the world.'

Carol wondered what Tommy would do without his big sister to help him get through each day.  She smiled to herself as she threw a reflective look at Jenny and headed down the hall to drag her fourteen year old son, out of the land of dreams and into the land of morning.

'Bye Mum,' Jenny yelled from the front door half an hour later.

Tommy grabbed his toast and jam, ramming it into his mouth while juggling his lunch box and backpack; tearing out the door after her.

'Bye Jenny - Tommy, did you get your Science Proj...' Carol was cut off mid sentence by the slamming of the front door, bewildered that Tommy even shut the door in the first place.  Carol cleared the table methodically and removed the green linen table cloth that was becoming worn around the edges.  Glancing at the clock, she sat down dejectedly and ran a loving hand over the table, feeling the smoothness interrupted by grooves and marks that she had felt countless times before.

'So like my children,' she announced to the table.  'So smooth in places and yet rough in other ways - but so special because of it.'

And then it dawned on her.  She wasn't tired.  She was mourning.  Mourning for her table, an integral part of her family, that would soon be gone. 

Peter had suggested they sell the table as they had been left a lovely antique one by his Great Aunt Lucy, in her will.  They didn't need or have room for two tables.


Carol placed her index finger in the hole closest to her and memories came flooding back to her, as if it were yesterday.  Her four-year-old son sat at the table, hammering a wooden peg into the table top with his new hammer set.

'Look Mummy, I'm a carpbender.'

Carol's hand moved slowly to the long scratch, an arm's length away.  This time, Jenny's tear filled eyes beseeched her as she had thrown her skates on the table and realized what she had done.

Carol jumped up.  Enough of that!  It's time to be practical, she admonished herself.  There is no room for this table any more.

Later that day, Peter arrived home to find Carol in the garden, mercilessly yanking weeds from their presumed life-time habitat. 

'I'm glad I'm not one of them,' he surprised Carol with a cuddle from behind.

'Well, when it's time to go - you may as well go as quickly as possible, I guess,' Carol mused, unable to rise to a congenial banter.  'So, we had better start thinking about advertising our table, don't you agree?' continued Carol, trying to be businesslike, to hide her emotions.

'Well, we could do that,' Peter replied with a twinkle in his eye.  'But, then we'd have to learn to eat standing at the kitchen counter.'

Peter now had Carol's undivided, confused, attention.

'You know how I've just been at Jim's?' Peter attempted to explain.

Carol nodded, impatiently. 

'Well...' Peter continued, slowly, much to Carol's annoyance.  'He took almost an hour to get 'round to asking me if we would do an exchange on what Great Aunt Lucy left us.  It seems that Julie has this huge bookcase that she just can't part with and doesn't need the little one that Great Aunt Lucy left her.  But, she could really use that big old dining table.

Carol could not conceal the smile that spread across her face.

'So,' Peter continued, 'after hearing you sleep talking last night about tables, mumbling about memories and remembering how many good meals I have eaten from our table all these years; Well anyway, I think Great Aunt Lucy would understand - don't you?'

***

© Copyright Jan Reid-Lennox. All Rights Reserved.