Think like a Singer

I can’t help but think like a singer
I absorb all the advice and all the know how
of how to sing and now
this is coming through in how I live.
Is it weird that when talking house decorating
with my friend I think of discords and crunchy notes?
Notes running side by side and not blending.
She was discussing wallpaper and curtains clashing.
I was thinking of notes coming together and crashing.

At work when I was creating a pictorial diagram
of our Past Student’s pavers in the yard.
Bricks, blank, unpurchased, unnamed
it was not so very hard
to think of the importance of space between notes.
Notes spread out and distanced from each other
by rests, time to catch a breath, unnoted notes.

And bowling always makes me think of singing.
Aim for the note, then sing,
Aim for the goal, then let the ball knock down all the pins.
Sing straight on the note, don’t smear.
Keep your arm straight or the ball will disappear
down the gutter.

I wonder if it matters.
I wonder if it is ok,
if I can get through life
thinking like a singer.
Can’t really be helped.
I am one.
And I love it.

Note to self – don’t look at peas on a plate or birds on the wire too long.

Those Kids Should Go

Someone said,
who should know better
but does not know,
‘those children should take
their things and go.
They should not be in the
same classroom where
the other children learn.
They don’t know how to take turns.
They should not be allowed,
they should not be.
They are not the same as you and me’.
To this someone,
who should know better,
don’t you know that is what
those children want too?
They want to be the same
as the other children who
get along so well.
For those children
school is hell.
Teachers don’t help.
They don’t know what to do.
It is too late for my girl who
is one of those children.
Those children who don’t fit in.
To that someone with her
thoughtless remarks.
Just imagine how you would feel
if a loved one of yours
was segregated in a class.
Just because they thought different.
They don’t know how to fit in.
Teachers need to learn to help them.
They need support, they need confidence
instead of segregation in another class.

A spider

In the corner.
She lurks.
She hides.
She shirks.
She scuttles.
She spins long, long,
tendrils of silken thread.
Ample amounts of yarn
to catch any unsuspecting.
flies who hover too close

Spiky feet take turns to
test air currents.
Suddenly she descends
along an invisible line.
Some people are scared.
I am not
I escort the spider outside because
I spied her.

Clouds

Clouds. they are blown into cotton ball streamers by wild winds. when they get black and heavy rain pours, lightning strikes and thunder rolls. I love the fluffy cumulus clouds. Looking up at the sky i see such funny things. A saucepan, a man with a massive nose, a trumpet. But today I was told these clouds hold computer data. They are very useful. I have seen both sides now. Clouds.

Choir Spread

I have a new poem which is called ‘Choir, a spread of joy’. Here it is. Hope you like it.

Not many people know of this
but there is a spread
set way up high
on the tallest shelf.
If you asked a sales person
to bring it down
you would see it for yourself.
that this spread is
the best spread the world will ever see
full of richness and flavour and
vibrant diversity.

All types of people come together to make a choir,
song unites us together
and differences make us unique
we leave our trouble at the door
grab our music and stand up on our feet
‘All Eyes on Conductor’ as he blends us into one
until we are smoooooooooth
like melted chococolate spreading outward
in an icky, sticky goo.

This goo is made with love
as we all love to sing,
it is made with tolerance,
we are all the same under our skin,
it is made with patience
lots of work required to get the song right,
the spread is poured into bottles
and the lid is screwn down tight.

I hope this spread is shipped
throughout the world
I hope this spread goes to places
where love and understanding is required
and sharp stones are hurled
For the Choir spread ingredients
are social inclusion and love
if you ever experience it
life will not be as rough

Made With Love

two cakes – one made perfectly,
tastes beautiful, looks beautiful but made by an unknown person.
second cake doesn’t look perfect
but tastes really good.
The second cake does not stand up straight
but it is made with love.
This ingredient makes the cake extra special.
A person has spent the whole day on it
making it for her mother’s birthday.
If it was me, I would choose the second cake.
I was the person who made the cake for my mother.