Meeting with Miss Peach

This afternoon Pyewacket and I went on a journey to visit Miss Peach and her mom for afternoon tea.

We had Belgian cookies, and a delicious cup of tea and we were shown around the beautiful cottage. We took a photograph to remember the lovely time we had.



I'd like to dedicate this poem to the two of them with my appreciation.

My Gift to You

Chance makes a poet, so by chance
a poet I would be,
and send my verse, like Eros' lance,
to strike and pleasure thee.
I'll make such rhymes for thee, will start
sweet bells a-chiming in thy heart:
be beautiful as mountain spring,
or, light as spinning foam will bring
a moments pleasure then depart.
My soul would soar to heights sublime,
so let each ballad ring
with all the bards of ancient time,
and minstrelsy, to sing.
If then these songs delight thee, dear,
suffice they must for me:
one moment's joy unto thine ear,
then gone from memory.

Childhood Visions and Age Old Dreams

(The Bible: Joel 2-28, Acts 2 -16,17)

I was crying, for my friend had died when she and I were five.
Mother told me life often is sad, but with age I would realise
Nature’s plan is that all life on Earth will, with time, grow and thrive,
and devised in this plan is that each form of life also dies.
With my chin thrust well out, and my head held erect,
I stood shouting defiance, through tears, to reject
any plans for my own demise.


But observing the sequence of life has shown me,
wistful dreaming of times long ago many old people do,
is as common to age as youth’s visions of times yet to be.
I recall matchbox boats and their pipe-cleaner passengers, who
were sent racing down gutters fast-flowing by rain.
They sailed over a waterfall, down into the drain,
and forever were lost to our view.


As I aged, I found laughter dispelled gloomy thoughts of mortality,
and my smiles could help others ignore what such visions imply.
Years of practice empowered me to smile with alacrity,
as I once, as a vain little girl, smiled at all passers-by,
and in shop-windows too. People smile back at me, it is true.
So while grave faces brighten when I’m passing through,
I shall strive to retain my smile.

Thoughts on Life

As I come here before you, my thoughts to impart,
I must beg your forbearance, most gentle of heart.
Please to contemplate kindly, as on me you look,
and dismiss not my writing as gobbledegook.

To humanity Nature exhibits two mirrors:
One depicts all life’s pleasures, the other its horrors.
We see sometimes a bowl of ripe cherries – delightful!
And at others a bowl filled with pits – truly frightful!

Life is tragedy-comedy. Sorrow and mirth
are inherent, and programmed in each human birth.
Without darkness we never could appreciate light,
and we need culpability to recognize right.

Sadly, humankind knows that all life ends in time,
and now I, with time’s passage, am well past my prime.
While aware of strength waning as my end time draws near,
correspondingly, life grows increasingly dear.

Oh! Alas! As with dustmen, we all of us must
become, in time’s consequence, familiar with dust.
Which is better than having forborne to exist,
when we’d probably never have known what we missed.

So experience teaches: Enjoy while you may
all the good things of life, as they happen your way.
When you look in life’s looking-glass, smile as you do.
Even try for a laugh – it will come back to you.

University of New England, Armidale, New South Wales

(In 1979, Aged 56 and without a car)

Winter in New England is enjoyable when you
have lovely warm fires, to stand back to.
But when I’m trudging through sludge, methinks
such frigid weather really stinks.

I readily admit no Stoic am I, nor a Spartan yet.
Walking with ice-cold feet, I simply fret.
My dripping nose grows rosy; my hands turn blue;
and my disposition suffers, too.

Although I’m walking all bundled up from head to toe,
the wind-chill factor simply never lets go.
I long for mid-winter’s break, as that is the time
when I go to pass a few weeks in a warmer clime.

New England flowers prettily in springtime,
all the deciduous trees are colourful in fall.
To walk in the park is so pleasant in summertime,
or to sit with friends, ‘neath shade trees in the mall.

Oh, Armidale is beautiful in springtime,
and it’s so exhilarating walking in the fall.
But living here is easiest in summertime,
and when Uni.’s out that’s the very best time of all.

Nostalgia

There is perfume in the garden,
and a rustling in the trees,
as the atmosphere is scented
by a fickle summer breeze.

There is magic in the moonlight,
purple shadows everywhere,
and the cries of ring-tailed possums,
in the bush, cut through the air.

On the mango trees the ripening fruit
is touched by pearly glow,
and the feasting flying-foxes
squeak and quarrel as they go.

Where the heady honeysuckle
lets a drift of blossoms fall,
the cascading golden creeper
spreads enchantment over all.

By the creek the giant red-gums stand,
like ancient dream-time guards at bay,
and the possums slip among the leaves,
to slumber through the day.

As the lushness of the waning night
envelops me like rain,
I can feel my heart is beating out
a tumultuous refrain.

For scenes of youth can never be
replaced by memory,
and home is where the exiled heart
must ever long to be.

Christmas Eve

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds...





Sure - they're big teenagers now. :)