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.


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

What Do I Want from Singing?

Lately I have been coming back to the same question.
What do I want from singing?
Do I want to be a big star?
Do I want to make big bucks
and be driven in a limousine car.
Well I wouldn’t say no to those sorts of things.
Pearl necklaces and diamond rings.
But living in the lap of luxury would not
keep me happy for long.
Audiences may fill venues
and listen to my songs
but I don’t think that would
make me happy for always.
I can live without compliments.
I can live without praise.
I sing to go to another place.
Somewhere where I am me with a smile on my face.
If I could pass on that happiness to someone else
so they too would understand,
I would have achieved
something before I leave this lonely land.

Funny Phone Feeling

I did not charge my phone last night.

The phone is going flat.

Low battery warning flashing on my screen.

Years ago public phones were outside every milk bar.

These days there are none to be seen.

No more do I fold myself into a telephone booth

and push 30 cents into the slot.

The world today is divided into those who have a phone

and others who do not.

I do not save coins to make an emergency call.

Instead I unfold my mobile.  My monthly bill will pay for it all.

I don’t know how Orwell did it but he looked into the future to see

1984’s Big Brother rubbing his hands with glee.

A curious Big Brother who can see you and he can see me.

What is more he can see where we have been

because we are all blips on his computer screen.

I live in the information age. There is nothing I can’t know.

If I want to find out something I don’t have far to go.

I google what I need to learn.

Instantly that information will show on my phone.

The world is at my fingertips.  I am no longer alone.

The world has shrunk quite a bit.

Instead of talking to the lady next to me

I could be chatting to my old uncle Abner in Apartment 3,

New York, New York City.

But i can’t right now.

My batteries are going flat.

What am I going to do?

Twiddle my thu ……..

beep, beep, beep …….


The sun rises in the east
like a ball being served
at a giant’s tennis match.

The shadow of the sun spins
and rotates into the distance.

It disappears
over the next hill where
I cannot see it anymore.

What do these shadows
have for my today?

Will there be happiness?

It is all out of my hands.

I am not playing in the
giant’s tennis match.

The ball has been served