On dusted Parchment


photo credits: s1.favim.com

barely visible
letters adorn
dusted yellowing
as stitches are
from fraying binders
leather bound covers
are held by
pleated hands
read by waxen glow
his eyes
he struggles

words of writers
past times
as grandmother’s necklace
handed down

feelings etched
from another mind
another vision
with quill
from brighter
unaware who may
whose hands will touch
the ink or
the page

words of love…
a writers life once lived
deepest thoughts
to be read
and again

don’t shut the book
forever wondering
what knowledge beauty
is held
blow off the dust
read what is written
so that you may
to close the book
shall only
close your mind


Miriam from    http://anotherwanderingsoul.wordpress.com/2013/06/05/my-pages/  and I have once again written a piece from a photo that Miriam has chosen.  We then post our pieces at the same time (or near enough) not knowing what the other has written. Please go and see her contribution.

3 nuts and a squirrel Challenge – My entry

Words were

Theme – Sensual /Romance

Challenges originally set by – Whimsy Mimsy and johnnycrabcakes (and we await the next one)

Her skirt pulled up only slightly
the river cold, icy
toes dipped in rippling waters
cooled off on a summer day

She hitched only to her knees
never beyond, taut modesty
a gentleman would not approve
a lady acting inappropriately

Stepping across mossy stones
showing more now than her knees
blushing from her own allure
wary of feet, unsure

She bent to sip the water
the taste strange like salt
made an unfamiliar tongue
yet she wiped her lips decorously

Eyes looking both directions
she cares not of her dress
cupping hands of water
she holds them to her breast

Drops that trickle slowly
feeling wayward without shame
delighting in the pleasure
unknowingly lighting flames

The afternoon is closing
skies darken in her wee nook
tip-toes across mossy stones
back on land, returning to her book

Few pages are but read
chill in the air now bites
gathering her belongings
pleasured, home to end the night

Though this is my entry – I wouldn’t feel comfortable with myself if I didn’t give credit to

RoS – ruleofstupid

Susan Daniels and Stephen Kellogg along with RoS have been so supportive, giving of their time, their advise, their critiques on what I write. I am truly thankful for their encouragement since I began my Poetic Journey.

ramblingsfromamum 30.12.2012

3 nuts and a Squirrel Challenge Prompt

I was  chatting on Susan Daniels Poetry site when she kindly invited me to take part in a Three Nuts and a Squirrel challenge that Whimsy Mimsy started and I joined in on aprayerlikegravity site.

Confused yet? The below should explain, if you are interested in taking a peek.

Basically the challenge was : – So our little joke has become a pass along challenge prompt – entitled “Three nuts and a squirrel”. Johnny has provided the next one – here –http://aprayerlikegravity.wordpress.com/2012/12/22/she-made-me-do-it-poem-promptchallenge/ – with the words truck, safe (the object), and crust. Theme: Romantic or sensuous. :) So the idea: Make a poem on the stated theme (the Squirrel) and include the three words (I think nouns work best) or ideas based on them (the Nuts). 

Now I’m not that savvy about ping-backs, link to’s and the like so forgive me if I have stuffed -up!

Please post the results or links to them, in the comments below.

I now put out the challenge (heaven help me)

Three words. One theme.  Limitless possibilities….

My 3 words are –





Whoever wants to be first as I’m still brainstorming (not that there is much to storm)








Touch (Part 1) Poetry

Touch by hand the subtle things

Touch the child with new born skin

Touch the water in rock pools still

Touch the snow – white frozen chill


Touch the bark of trees at dark

Touch the glass and leave your mark

Touch the animal that makes you shiver

Touch the stones in the rippling river


Touch the pen so you may write

Touch the pillow you sleep on at night

Touch the cheek of those who blush

Touch the person whose heart is crushed


Touch the grass in paddocks green

Touch the nuts of cooked praline

Touch the dust of cooled down ashes

Touch the steel of newly ground axes


Touch the snail shell after a rainy day

Touch the old wood that built an archway

Touch the covers that warm you each night

Touch the wrongs to make them right


Touch the water that flows from a tap

Touch the twigs and make them snap

Touch the fabric of clothes that you wear

Touch the heart of friends to show you care


Touch the old photos and reminisce

Touch the lips that you have kissed

Touch the book with the faded pages

Touch the one you will love for ages

Touch…a simple thing we sometimes take for granted…touch…sometimes we feel but do we ever touch

Courtesy Google & http://free-extras.com

Courtesy Google & http://free-extras.com

I thank you for saying thank you

By Isobel
This book was obviously written for women and mothers but is such a touching story that men will enjoy it as well. A well prepared and formatted EPUB.
4.0 out of 5 stars The Empty Nest, September 20, 2012
From the cradle to the empty nest. I passed through that journey myself so I understand the emotional roller coaster ride that this author takes you through. I think all daughters and daughters-in-law should read it – O, yes the boys too. I am the mother of two boys! There are tears and laughter, joys and sorrows in this very honest tale and it helps us to understand how we can support each other as mothers as we go through life together. Shirley Chalmers
Shirley is one the blogs that I follow – so thank you Shirley 🙂
5.0 out of 5 stars Really enjoyable, easy read, September 5, 2012
Despite not having any children, I really enjoyed this book. It was funny, light and easy to relate to. Being one of 3 daughters, it has helped put some things in perspective and understand why my mum does/says the things she does! Will definitely be recommending this to all the mums I know!

Courtesy internetanddesign and Google

I thank those above that have taken the time to post a rating on The Empty Nest – A Mother’s Hidden Grief.
Available through Lulu and Amazon.
I also thank WordPress for opening such a wonderful opportunity to me and thousands of other writers.

OMG Woke thinking I wouldn’t blog instead the story writer emerged again!

First draft and haven’t planned the story line but I’m crazed woman, I have been going for the last few hours! Had a shower (finally to get myself out of my dressing gown) and kept thinking of how I would continue. I shan’t bore you with everything that I have madly typed but here is a smidge.

Can I say how happy I am? Is that just plain craziness? Forgive my enthusiasm. The bug has hit and for the time being it shall continue – I refuse to get the BLOCK..I refuse (famous last words)…

Veronica settled herself against the large elm trunk that supported the twisted heavy branches dense with foliage above her and gazed out across the meadows as far as her eyes could see.

The air was motionless not a leaf nor a blade of grass moved and the only sound that could be heard were the birds calling to one another and the faint voices of other visitors staying in the cabins. This would be her home for the next week and she smiled, closed her eyes and gently sighed in unison at the thought.

Time had elapsed, startled on its own, her body jolted realising she had drifted asleep and when she peered through squinted eyes dusk was upon her.

She had come away for a week of relaxation, of undisturbed seclusion, however as she scrambled to stand up and regain her awareness, she wondered if in fact it may be just that bit too tranquil? Could she simply allow herself to take in the scenery, breathe in the country air and admire the beautiful countryside? Could she revel in kicking off her sneakers and feel the lush grass beneath her feet or would this sleepy existence become too much for her to bear?

She grabbed her glass of half quaffed wine and book, page unturned and strolled back to the cabins. It was only day one she giggled trying to convince herself, of course I will cope. As she strolled along the path opening the wrought iron gate that enclosed the pristine garden beds she knew that this is what was needed, a break from the bustling world, her job, her suburban but hectic existence. She bent down to admire the irises in the garden bed outside her room that stood tall and majestic, their pale lilac petals enveloped like a glove with the darker leaves cradling the stem to which they clung to.

I’m so tired today

Sleeping is not coming naturally to me of late, in fact  it hasn’t for quite some time. Yes, I’ve tried the warm milk before bed, the reading a book till you face plant the page and no bright lights. Nothing seems to work however. I’ve also tried going to bed late and early or a glass of wine all to no avail. I have also tried every (well practically) known herbal tranquilliser on the market and also prescription and non prescription from the chemists – they work but I’m trying not to get the addicted thing happening.

I went to bed last night book in hand and read till hmm let me see probably 10pm, I yawned, I squirmed and the pages got heavier to flip, so off went the dim bed-side light and down I snuggled.

I was still trying to snuggle and drift into slumber at 12.30 – 1.15 and 2.30am. I must off drifted off for an hour or so as my mobile phone chorused out its wake up alarm at 6.15.

So I am bleary eyed now, but still I write, because I needed to, as I sat at work today (shoosh please don’t tell the boss) I asked myself the questions how often should one blog? Is there a limit? Can I prattle about anything that may for all intense purposes a little bit interesting to others? Do I just blog for the sake of blogging? Many questions invade my normally rational head-space and why the hell am I making it so complicated?

Tsk tsk see this is what happens when I’m tired..

**My Memoir The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available through Lulu and Amazon (J M Kadane)**