Sitting at my back door

I asked Brian Miller from WaystationOne and also dVerse for some inspiration after writing and editing a Eulogy.

His words were – go sit on the porch with a cuppa…close your eyes and listen…when you think you have heard it—listen some more then write it…smiles

So I went outside and closed my eyes and listened..and listened and sat for hmmm 3 minutes and wrote this…probably should have stayed longer (but I was cold)


Soft wind meanders through trees
at my back gate and birds cluck
~ similar to ducks
but not
joined with the odd crow or dove
a dog in the distance barks
for the homecoming of his master
‘Boing’ a basketball next door
bounces ‘cross the pavement
Six birds I hear, different shapes
different sizes
competing with the clunk of tin
from neighbours in their yard
bees~ and there are bees murmuring
amongst the chipped wood
seeking flowers on the branches
and a fly ~
wouldn’t be Australia ~ without a fly


Thanks Brian 😉 my 666th post.

Another day (Prose)


in the stillness of the morning……

darkness dissipates leaving a haze of

darkened blue

before the sun rises

birds call their morning song

in the early hours when life slumbers

in houses

down my street

bleary eyed I sit in coldness listening

to the world awaken

another day, another breath for some

who are deemed


for others whom I write about

no birds will sing for them



©jmtacken 6th November 2013

Shared with  and Open Link Night.

It is early, I couldn’t sleep, I have been busy writing the Service for tomorrow, so my apologies if you have missed me. This is what came into my thoughts a few moments ago.

Tweety not so Sweety

2013-03-26 14.02.06

This is what happened on Thursday…or was it Wednesday? Being at home now, one day just rolls into another.

I am sounding like my elderly parents bless em so I shall move on.

What you see here my dear readers is a bird perched up on a window on our kitchen cathedral ceiling. I don’t know why they are called cathedral ceilings perhaps because it’s the height of a cathedral or near enough…this window to give you an idea is about 17 feet up the wall.

The other day I left the house for a short while, as I was minding two dogs (both bird lovers by the way) I left the door open to the decking, so they could come and go as they pleased. Yes I’m considerate when it comes to dogs.

When I returned there was said Mr/Mrs Fluffy wings perched up high with several trails of droppings cascading down the wall (look closely at the pic).

The kitchen table sits underneath (of course it does, it’s not hanging off the fall ffs).  I grabbed a chair and stood that on top of the table and then stood on the chair…I was trying to get high (not that sort of high folks settle) trusty broom in hand (no I wasn’t going to hurt Tweety-Pie). I started hoopin and a hollerin and waving the broom around like a woman possessed.

Tweety fluttered from one window pane to the next…pooping as he/she went. Nothing worked, no amount of screaming and yes I even started crying I was so mad. I got down and grabbed an almost finished plastic bag of bread and tied a knot in it and started throwing it at Tweety (please don’t call the RSPCA) I wasn’t trying to knock it off it’s perch (no I was) but without harming it. I am an animal lover, but the poop was getting to me.,

Finally after much screaming and tears and waving of arms she/he flew to the ground and sat like a stunned mullet (yes I know that is a fish).
Then ‘it’ flew onto a clothes horse (full of clean towels). I was shoo -shoo shoo-ing it with all my might, before it calmly hopped behind the TV cabinet. Grrrrrr.
Then ‘it’ flew gently into the window, then on the floor, then back onto another window, before me wielding broom screaming “SHOO you bloody bird”, it flew out the door and settled under the outdoor table.

‘It’ (as I’m not into sexing birds)  sat for over an hour (in shock I am gathering) or perhaps thinking  “This woman is a bloody lunatic, last time I hop in her place for a drink from the dog bowl”!  Where were the dogs you ask? Playing merrily in the background not giving a toss about my predicament.

The moral of this story? Yes folks there is one. Tweety must have gone through an ordeal, shocked at what was happening, why she couldn’t stay in her comfy place on the window ledge.

Wings flapping and not knowing where to go she fluttered from one spot to the next , even hitting herself in the process.

Only to find her way and rest for a while before she used her wings and found her freedom once again.

I will let you the reader figure that one out.