Is It Any Wonder ?

Have you got ants in yr pants? Mum would say

When I fidgeted in bed.

Once the dentist slapped me in the face

When I wouldn’t keep still

During an extraction.

My mind would wander like Wordsworth

When I was a kid.

You’d forget yr head if it wasn’t screwed on

Was a comment

That followed me like a shadow.

You’ve always got yr head in the clouds,

Barked Brother Angus

From his pulpit

During Ancient History lessons.

Well, it’s better than having it stuck up my arse,

I wanted to say.

And now my grand-daughter has been diagnosed with ADHD.

Is it any wonder?.

Protocols for Bon-Bon Popping

There are protocols for almost everything you can think of:

how to behave on a first date, how to address royalty,

whether to fart in public or hold it in, the etiquette of blogging,

BUT WHAT are the protocols for bon-bon popping?

Over Xmas dinner the other night, we couldn’t decide when;

whether, as I thought, at the beginning of proceedings to start

the evening with a bang ; but my daughters were of the opinion

before the main meal but nonna shook her head, no, no, she proclaimed,

it must be after; we checked the box they came in, in the hope

that the protocols were printed there. Google was no help

nor the shop we bought them in. In the end they weren’t popped at all.

Oh well, we said. Let’s hope we can work it out by New Years’.

Start with the Animals

Start with the animals, Buddha once said.

So I do.

The cat wants to go out. It is badgering me to let it out in the balmy evening where all sorts of adventure await.

But I want it to stay inside, settle down like me.

It is so easy to be mean.

I open the door.

I must open my heart a little more as well.

My girl and I sometimes send unpleasant texts to each other. It is what couples who are not quite couples do.

I think the meanness in my texts should be let out too.

I open the door. It dithers.

I give it a swift kick up the backside and send it on its way.

I begin my text message anew.

Yr Fizz

I opened up a soft drink —

You know how it is —

One recently opened

but it had lost it’s fizz.





It had lost its zest.

It had lost its tang.

It had lost its bite

& it had lost its bang!





So hang onto your hat.

Enjoy life’s gee whiz.

You gotta be where it’s at.

Never lose your fizz.

*happy Xmas everyone

Mole

You say

I am a mole

when I write

burrowing

down

to my tunnel

with the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign

on the door;

but I say

I know

no other way

that when I’m done

I emerge

into the light

tiny eyes

blinking

  • pic courtesy of Wikimedia

The Applecart

There was a saying in my parents’ day

not to upset the apple cart.

My uncle was a market gardener so it had extra meaning for us.

For a while things went smoothly

then I came along, then my sister.

We were the world’s first teenagers.

There was sex, booze — no drugs — and rock ‘n’ roll.

Mum and dad didn’t know what hit them.

And this went on all over the world.

A whole lot of apple carts were being upset, overturned.

Then came Feminism, Vietnam War protests, R rated movies

and in our country

the sacking of a government.

Boats were rocked, apple carts overturned.

It’s a bit like that now. Only there’s far more involved.

The fate of our planet.

I think before we get to wherever we’re going there won’t be too many

apple carts left standing.

*pic courtesy of Pinterest

Three Nights

Three nights of frazzled sleep

crammed into four hours on the couch

mellowed by malbec, merlot, mataro

an afternoon of tasting platters & wine samplings

at Penny’s Hill where black-faced sheep slumbered

under the oak; now you slumber so gently:

sweet Lethe has taken your troubles over the border;

you will awaken and forget

Cows in a Paddock

Someone once told me you can tell what the weather

Will be like by studying cows in a paddock.

If they’re standing, she said, there’d be

a good chance of rain, whereas if they were lying down,

you could count on fine weather. Or it might have been

The other way around. What a load of bull, I thought.





What if half were standing and half were lying down?

Would that mean a 50% chance of fine weather, or to put it another way,

A 50% chance of rain, depending on whether you were

A glass half- full or a glass half -empty sort of person? It seemed a little dodgy.

What if, for instance, in one paddock all the cows were lying down

while in another, they were practising synchronised standing?

Wouldn’t one cancel out the other?





And why cows?

What about prognosticating pigs, soothsaying sows, auguring alpacas?

The list goes on. I decided to go back to the Bureau forecasts.

At least they get it right half the time.

My Sliding Doors Moment

Not ‘the last train to Clarkesville’.

Nor ‘the midnight train to Georgia’

Not even ‘the downtown train’ that Tom Waits

and Rod Stewart rode on vinyl

but that old steam train that took me all the way

from the monastery where I was sequestered

to be a priest, on the verge of making my final vows

to a life in the ‘real world’. where I met the woman who would be my wife.

and the mother of my three kids,

a career as a teacher, a writer, and the grandfather of six more kids,

the apples of my life,

a sliding doors moment:

the most momentous train ride I ever made.

Tricky

Not ‘selfish’, she says. more ‘difficult to get on with’.

Ahhh, I say, that’s code for ‘tricky’.

I know I am. My best mate is too.

Human beans are ‘tricky’ all around.

They don’t grow straight. They grow with all sorts

of genetic quirks; there’s always something askew,

that rubs people up the wrong way, that chafes.

How people live together, I don’t know.

Sometimes I have trouble just living with me.

I’m not a one trick pony, but I am tricky.

pic courtesy of Pinterest