Walk to Kaboora/Blue Lake

scribbly gums

Scribbly gums. Image by Tatters: http://www.flickr.com/tgerus

My toes press into the sandy soil

Wildflowers offer their delicate scent

Sunshine gleams from ivory trunks

And frames the pink blush of new growth.

I wonder, can I know this place?

Continue reading “Walk to Kaboora/Blue Lake”




Image: Alesa Dam http://bit.ly/1GKmzfN

The tap drips.
Splashing water warms
my hurting heart.
I want to sit with it,
let it be here,
explore its dimensions.
Feel the ache
on my in-breath,
And know it a little better on the out.
A candle throws its shafts of light
across my tired blurred eyes.
I find peace here.


traces a line
down your cheek
bumps over stubble
and leaves at the
the sweat of one
joins another
as you slip between my thighs
my hands glide
over the muscles in your back
and we tune into the slick rhythms
of love in the summertime.

Discipline and Pun

(apologies to Michel Foucault)
Michel Foucault

When I was younger I’d love to run
My mouth off with an irresistible pun
As the years go by
I’ve learned restraint
And can tell the ones worth saying
And the ones that aint.

It hasn’t come easy
This new found strength
I’ve had to go to some crazy lengths
I even declared my very own home
To be a total pun-free zone
But I found that when I was out and about
Unwanted puns would come bursting out
And though eyes would roll
And groans were heard
I couldn’t help but be absurd.

A friend suggested a group called P.A.
I went along and said G’day.
My name’s Nic, and I am a punner.
Everyone clapped, but I did a runner.
‘cause they told me that abstinence was the only way
To gain control over what you say.
But a life with no puns, or double entendre
Seemed to me to be rather sombre

Now that I’m older
I like to think that the occasional pun
Can actually be quite fun
So I’ve tamed the beast.
I’ve gained some discipline.
Now I only give voice
To puns that are really choice.


Image by snap713 Flickr http://bit.ly/1pDYAeX

Image by snap713
Flickr http://bit.ly/1pDYAeX

She perches on the edge of her chair
unable to accept its offer of rest
mind going over the jobs of the day
Lunch? – sandwiches will do
the bread is still fresh
dinner – sausages.
sausages and mash –
they always love that
washing might be dry, better check –

“Time for a cuppa!”
She jumps to attention
as the men settle into their chairs
with all the ease
that comes from a lifetime
reaping patriarchy’s dividend.