Poem Number 247 - Bi-Centennial Toothache - 2/2/1988

As Australia’s special once in a life time event,

Is celebrated by most Australians,

The aborigines show their disgust by silent protests,

Declared campsites along the shores of Sydney ‘their own’.

It must be easy for Australians to celebrate,

Celebrate ‘the making of a nation’, by whites.

It was the English and Europeans backgrounds,

That joined their champagne with a noise of cheer.

Whilst watching hundreds of thousands of people,

Camp, prepare and wait for the tall ships and first fleet arrive,

To see thousands of watercraft follow the ships in,

To see at night fireworks, that thousands wait to adore.

For most of the morning all along,

I have had a consistent toothache pain,

From one tooth to another spreading across my mouth,

Yet in two days time my four wisdom teeth will be pulled out.

And for a few days or a week,

There will be a pain that should decrease in my mouth,

A pain that I will have to wash, rinse and care,

For only rest and comfortness will replace what I have lost.

For yes, I care of Australia’s historical day,

But for crowded and crowded shoreline views,

Nothing seems to be representing the old storyline, except the new,

But for I at this moment have got a bi-centennial toothache.

For millions of dollars are being spent,

And yet with this country in deficit,

Our taxpayers are being splurged to more deficits,

For new lights, new streamers and also new balloons.

With Bob Hawke smiling (as his own tax is minor towards costs),

And Barry Unsworth is using the bi-centenary and the royals as his election scapegoat,

And glories of unpredicted uncertainties of self-glory for Barry,

Election fever is closer than expected and his fever is boxing.

Poem Number 199 - To Be Found And Cared - 2/2/1987

A sad touch of what thought to be a delightful moment,

Made a light change to my own excitement.

Such that, it was ‘Julie’ had never called me,

That was the end of a small beginning!

My heart; not so strong was befitting,

Waiting for at least another night out or two.

But, as it turned out for better or for worse,

Again, it was I, at who was left at the tail end of a horse.

There are other options (of the other sex), out there,

To be found and cared for on my own field.

There are more than ample activities for me to work on,

To occupy my mind on clean, pure and innocent things.

At least, I didn’t leave ‘Julie’ pregnant,

To leave her on her own, to be self-feeding a child.

No bastard on earth should leave a woman like that!

To be left finding any kind of crusts of bread, in the street. 

Poem Number 193 - Self-Organised Blind Date - 31/12/1986

It t’was just a night or two ago,

I decided to call up an ex-girlfriend of the past.

And in so anxiously doing so,

I was just a wee bit saddened of her residential move.

Demanding for Lisa’s new residential details,

And with kindness and courteously, I got it!

Thinking twice before phoning the new phone number,

To hear Lisa reply with a little shock and a little anger.

And to my surprise, Lisa wasn’t there!

She had decided to stay at her parents place in Coonamble,

And she wouldn’t be returning to the flat,

Not for a month or little, so………

While a cheerful young lass kept conversationally: filling me in,

And then me, asking her little private questions to this lass,

And with laughs and cheers,

I asked Julie, whether she wanted to go out with me?

I’ve never asked some girl, I don’t know well,

To come out and have an enjoyable night.

Just a bunch of roses I will give,

No sexual desires no intimidations give her with!

Julie, however your looks are in everyone’s eyes,

My own eyes can see through this phone, in sweet pretty colors,

Shape, size and looks are not my main attraction in a girl,

It’s her talking voice and kind of personality, she shares. 

Poem Number 119 - He Loves You In Heart, Mind, Body And Time - 24/6/1986

With the knowledge of a pregnant woman to be,

Asking me, “If I’d be running away?”

Left me, with the answer that I had always known,

To be a king of the castle and ask her to share my own crown.

Oh, how I wish if I, pregnatise a woman,

How I wish, later on am I the father of all.

Don’t worry, sweetheart of any future child,

For we will both share the responsibility of our parenthood.

Get off your chest what is needed to be said,

Cause if you can’t talk to your ‘Other’,

Then there’s no use to discover,

And explore the beauties of both lives.

For he love you in heart,

For he loves you in mind,

For he loves you in body,

And he’ll love you more, in time.

Her warmeth me with fire anew,

My over-reacting sexual desires and emotions will be few.

I had promised to act cool, calm and relaxed,

To Carla once and once before, but I over-reacted.

I plead to her with all my true heart,

That I will request forgiveness, of all that day,

Please make it easy on me, to beg on my knees,

Lock me up in a closed room and leave me, with fleas.

To comfort, satisfy, care and cares,

And not to disassociate, disregard and destroy,

The great true blue relationship,

Of two lovers whom, ends up getting married.

Poem Number 99 - Wishes For Good Luck - 22/5/1986

There was a young boy called, “JFK”,

Who I’ve known only through work, for a while now.

His nickname is “Hyper”,

And he enjoys his girls higher.

One day this young boy,

Had decided to buy wheels,

Instead of a car,

He’d get himself a two-wheeler.

At work “JFK” is a practical joker,

Just like a few others, who did it for laughter.

If it was one joke not to be,

It happened to poor little Johnny.

After having his scooter delivered to work,

He’d be delighted to show the bike off.

Riding it up and down the back lane,

While men at work are watching him, from a crane.

As he did go to lunch to see someone leave work,

He turned up back to work, in a drunken-sod state.

His scooter was a passion, of which he was thrilled,

For the last couple of months, had been rough on him.

The scooter wasn’t to be found.

The scooter disappeared!

And that had been stolen, the unsecured scooter,

In temper and frustration he over-reacted.

Cheer up “JFK”! It happens to all of us,

For it may pop and the Police, they locate.

So don’t go for broke or even bust,

Take it easy and we will wish you ‘Good luck’.

AS WE ARE ALL BEHIND YOU! 

Poem Number 32 - Test After Tests - 29/12/1983

Noises of the corridor, I awake,

The clacking of the tea lady’s trolley,

Footsteps are heard from the medical staff,

Pacing up and down. The hours are getting close.

It’s the operation that will make me frown.

                                                                       

My husband thinks, he knows how I feel, today,

Little does he know, that this one’s a major one. 

Test after tests, they seem to work around the clock,

Makes me think of all those bloody shocks

Mother is there, just to make sure I’m O.K.,

Husband is working all during the day,

Afternoon arrives, as I want my husband here,
Every moment is precious, as I stare at the door…

Poem Number 3 - Operation - 20/8/1983

Darkness covers the mind,

As the dreaded thoughts are discovered,

Of the operation theatre, as it draws nearer.

Happier is she, who knows,

Those are all so concerned.

Her so called “Boyfriend”, over-reacts,        

And is anxious to hear the first results.

Suddenly, a nice call from her mother,

And all his worries are over.

He waits to rush and leave from work,                                                

Just to see her, straight away.

He sees her! He talks to her!

But due to her throat being so sore,

She is able to speak to him.

Words are written to enable communication.

He feels love, all around him,

While he notices, 'pink and red roses',

All around him.