•December 15, 2009 • Leave a Comment

To the editors of letters in the Sydney Morning Herald
Whether here today, or long since dead and buried,
I dedicate these verses in a spirit of great thanks.
If I’d had one letter printed then these pages would be blanks!


Love and Marriage

•September 10, 2017 • Leave a Comment

“Love and marriage, love and marriage,
Go together like a horse and carriage.”
So go the lines we’ve sung through the years,
The lines that joyfully ring in our ears.

In all of the fairy tales taught to the young
In all of the songs that together are sung,
Bliss is that lovers can pledge their great love,
In a wedding with choirs that sing from above.

The prince and the princess can marry with joy,
The pauper can wed a wealthy man’s boy.
No longer a dictate of father and mother
A husband or wife is one’s chosen lover.

Star crossed lovers, we laud their devotion.
Romeo and Juliette, we share the emotion.
Nothing should stand to hinder their wedding,
No family feud should deter them from bedding.

In all of the legends, which many believe,
From Psyche and Cupid to Adam and Eve,
The core of the theme that delights all our minds
Is the triumph of marriage over snakes of all kinds.

So years in the future when legends are told
Songs and stories, I hope, will honour the bold,
The devoted, who fight for their own human right
To wed a beloved by a rainbow’s bright light.


•August 8, 2017 • Leave a Comment


Regrets are for a life not lived,
Not for chances that are gone.
A path that one just never took
Cannot evermore be known.

A door that opens in one’s life
Means another has just closed.
Behind closed doors we never see
But dreams can be supposed.

And while we dream about such loss
Reality is frozen
We then might miss the very paths
Behind the door we’ve chosen.

To tread true paths in any life
We must look where we are going.
Not stare into a wonderland
Of glimpses that are showing.

For every glimpse we think we see
Or story we are told
We miss the nugget on our path
That turns out to be gold.

Teenage Boys

•July 18, 2017 • Leave a Comment


Like saplings they stand tall reaching for the stars.
Striplings raw with athleticism sway, lithely, side to side
Wind whistles around them. Lightening oft strikes.
Hear the sound of giant redwoods groaning in the forest.

The wild birds and animals are wary, some avoidant
Some using the whipping branches to look to the future.
Creatures of uncertainty, is this a tree or man for our time
Or will the hopes and promises of more be stunted?

Panic. Will there be bushfires, droughts or floods
To impede life, to break hearts, to stop branches blossoming?
Or will maturity come, the trunk widening, the canopy sheltering
The boy learning, growing helping others, living life.

Most saplings and striplings grow strong, some stalwart gums.
Some slighter, more willowy, their canopy more sparse
Reaching for the ground, the animals, the bubbling brooks.
Some alone in wider fields, on taller slopes, on barren plains.

But all give joy. If singed by fire, gnarled limbs renew the leaves
Giving more cover. When struck by lightening the divide’s a treasured home.
Warped branches delight, varied barks sought for their many colours.
Difference is the essence of being, for sapling and tree, boy and man .




•June 7, 2017 • Leave a Comment

His little feet moved with the grace of a dancer
His nose tweaking in sheer delight
No need to wait for command or an answer
As he’d catch a stray ball still in flight.

He would run through the waves as they broke near the shore
The foam matching his snowy fur,
His quivering body demanding much more
So his dive for the ball was blur.

He was loyal to his family. Year after year,
Vince was a wonderful friend.
Now, as we shed each sad, wishful tear
At the fact that his life had to end

We can think of his time in some doggie heaven,
Past and fond memories recall.
For we know that forever, each week one to seven
He’ll be up there chasing his ball.


•May 6, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Lulu, how well named, the erdgeist of Mulwaree.
The fidelity of a Labrador, with a poodle’s light of heart,
Came together in a creature, stalwart as a tree
Devoted to her loved ones from whom she’s loath to part.

And Motherhood she represents better than another.
She met her partner Ollie, true till he had to go,
Tended to ten children, including Milly and her brother
Then relished in her caring for baby Ella, baby Joe.

The pleasure she gave to others via her lively pups
Who learnt capacity to love from their adoring dam,
Gave zeitgiest to many. Raise life’s flowing cups
And toast with love. “Because of her I am.”

She lived in great harmony with animals around her,
Be they family cats, the humans, visitors abounding.
The birds and creatures of the earth she rarely did deter
From sharing in the beauty of the land of her surrounding.

Full of the spirit of the earth when young. Drinking deep
Of all that life did offer as Lulu’s are wont to do,
She ran, bounded and explored. She’d leap
Into excitement, into adventure, into all things new.

She ‘s found a new tranquillity as age has come to her
A lesson for those round her as they face the future too.
Acceptance is part of erdgeist, part of skin and part of fur
Live life as we can, love and model our Lulu.

It’s Not A Pillow But It Will Do

•April 30, 2017 • Leave a Comment



It’s not a pillow but it will do,
Hard or fluffy. And just for you
He’ll lie upon it and pretend,
His love and yours will never end.

A noble head, with eyes so deep
The secrets of this world could keep.
A younger self ran, almost flew,
Now gait is wobbly, but it will do.

His world was great, he ran, he swam
On his four legs, across the dam,
A trail of cream o’er water blue.
Now just puddles, but that will do.

An injury, dog’s teeth so sharp
They pierced his thigh but missed his heart
And stoicism that daily grew,
“Don’t fuss yourself, my leg will do.”

More love for him from day to day,
Two baby boys who learned to play.
“Come Charlie” was a cry he knew.
This life is good and it will do.

Now those babies have grown tall
They help when Charlie has a fall
A life of tolerance earns its due
They try their best and that will do.

Every hole is now too deep.
Every stair is much too steep.
Those legs of his are far from true
“I’ll get down there, a slide will do.”

Time passes, the old does not renew.
Real pillows grace him, every hue.
Resignation. “No hullabaloo
Just stroke my head and it will do.”


•April 7, 2017 • Leave a Comment

Crusades have proved a rather fruitless fight
To find the answer, but that’s not in truth.
The prayers of each can never show all light

For those who hold to certain wrong and right
And seek a truth that is an absolute,
Crusades have proved a rather fruitless fight.

Crusades were history ere I’d seek what might
Be truth in Jesus, Naomi and her Ruth.     .
The prayers of each can never show all light.

And to those other faiths a doubter might
To Mohammad’s words bring forth a sad “forsooth”.
Crusades have proved a rather fruitless fight.

To those who hold a childhood fancy tight,
Who tolerate nay sayers if they’re mute                                                                                The prayers of each can never show all light

But for those who welcome doubt, hold tight
The power that  truth is not an absolute.
Crusades have proved a rather fruitless fight
The prayers of each can never show all light.