Gutter life

I wander
down rain filled streets
listening to wheels spin bitumen
behind me
street lights as my guide stand alone
in dampened air as they
bow to the foggy night
my untravelled road

Past trails
the existing flounces at my feet
I walk
in gutters
wipe raindrops from eyes
Tip toe through life
knowing at any moment
I could be dragged into
the undertow

JMTacken 8.6.14
Just trying to write my way through.


Soft goatskin parchment
their roots lie below
twisted, each inhaling
the cool compacted earth
Waiting, they try to grow
tangled in their quest
for singular development
enshrouded by others

Limbs above breathing air
towards the dawn, hands joined
grasping light that beckons
Invisible is the shining sun
the need for nutrients required
evolvement to reach maturity
The fallen earth restricting

it all starts at the base

Let them break free of themselves
the cry of unseen entanglement
The boughs that seek the sun
to find the place where they belong
… to find their harmony

copyright JMTacken 2.6.14

Eyes now open


Hook in her mouth, a fish baited
she fought the current
Squirming, young and innocent
held, by the line of his hand
his charismatic ways
Slowly reeled in, to the delight
of his company

Time leads to the unnoticed
Blind to her discontent, she felt
her freedom, was now sought
his charm losing its appeal
Common ground was walked on
but that was years ago
The familiarity of togetherness
people change

What excited, now was boring
what was quirky, pissed her off
He was not the man she met
and people grow apart
Not thinking that it mattered
oblivious to her needs
He saw no need to alter

He was wrong, he knows this now
attention to finer details
aware of her unhappiness, he remained
the one who caught the prize
No thought at what the cost

Looking back, his eyes were closed
He missed her cringes, when he spoke
Missed the tell-tale signs of boredom
She was no longer young and innocent
wanting more than what he gave

It was a quiet Autumn morning
she closed the door behind her
one last time
Unhooked the line, he thought he held
swimming to her freedom

© JMTacken 19.5.2014

Photo Credit:

Chat Time ~ story

Once upon a time in a far away country that was considered up-side-down to many (though people actually are upright) there lived a lady, with her partner and her daughter and her partner. Perhaps you may know who they are?

Unfortunately this ladies’ life had been rather hectic of late, rushing here and there, not getting her study done, looking mainly at the outside of toilet S Bends and breaking her nails that once were her pride and joy (ok possibly not that much).

She also enjoyed writing and had a blog site and wrote quite prolifically in the beginning. As time went on, life and the S Bends seemed to get in her way, obstructing her muse and herself, not giving her the time or inclination to write or to read others who she followed.

This made the lady very grumpy and sad, though she did apologise to those that read what she wrote, she still felt uneasy.

Yesterday, her partner came home from work to say they were going to go to Doncaster (for those who don’t have a clue what Doncaster is) firstly it is a suburb in the upside State of Victoria where she lives and secondly, it has a large Shopping Centre or Mall (for those that live in countries that aren’t upside down).

Because this lady has two jobs now, she needed some nice new winter ankle boots (not for the cleaning of the S Bends as that would be simply too ridiculous) and she had been looking for some time to find just the right pair (yes, us women need the ‘just’- it’s important) – so read on.

Out they went walking around each store, when her partner decided he would also buy some dress boots (as there was a very good deal getting a free Drizabone jacket thrown in if you paid a stupidly extravagant price for the boots – go figure) and for those not knowing what that is, it’s a waterproof oilskin jacket.

Anywho, he purchased said boots and received the jacket and then it was the ladies turn. Excitedly she walked from store to store, trying on different styles, totally undecided and starting to wear her grumpy pants again, for lack of finding, until lo and behold she found the ‘just right’ she had been searching for.

Going to the counter, her partner (who she loves very much I may add) then paid for them and as soon as the Sales Assistant, placed the bag in her hand, he smiled and said to her “Happy Anniversary”.

Ermegawd!!! – It was their 6th year of being together (unofficially married) and through the hectic and chaotic week that she had had, she had completely forgotten (put in sad face and embarrassment).

“I am so sorry” she blurted, as he fist pumped the air, saying “Yes, one for the boys” (coz lets face it they are the ones who usually forget).

The morale to the story? Hmmm (thinks hard) Don’t let the important parts of life slip by unnoticed.

She is happy with her boots and to make up for forgetting, she is taking him out to one of their favourite Restaurants tonight for dinner, where he can get his Tandoori Prawns that he loves and she will have a much needed bottle of wine!

The End

A two minute piece- all my muse will allow tonight

wrap me up, not in cotton wool
for hard knocks are needed in
my life

wrap me up, not in spiders lace
for it’s binding would
restrict me

wrap me up, not in a season
for I need the chill of winter and
warmth of sun

wrap me up, not in sleeps embrace
for moments would be missed
with eyes closed

wrap me up, not in somber colour
for the brightness I adorn will
lift my spirits

wrap me up, not in the unknown
for I need to learn and

wrap me up, not in armour
for I must feel, cry, laugh
and grieve

wrap me up in arms
that’s all I need
ones that close
and open

copyright JMTacken 1.5.2014

Chat time and apology

I’m writing to apologise once again for not being able to keep up in the blog world. I think I can only manage properly at the weekends now, as every night I’m too exhausted.

I have taken on cleaning jobs (houses) within 2 weeks we have secured 8 permanent ‘cleans’. Some days 3, others two, but they are every day and I never thought I would become so tired.

I have to try and fit in my assessments for the marriage celebrant course and though I went like a bull at a gate in the beginning, now I dread the thought of study.

Today I conducted my 14 Service. It was a tough one as 4 of the great grand children got up to speak. They were all under 10. The littlest one tugged at my jacket and said ..can you read this for me, as his two elder brothers stood crying, waiting their turn to read. I then had to read one of my poems and had to excuse myself as my emotions took hold.

My daughter is for the moment going ok again, which eases the load on me and family and I hope she can remain so.

So my dear friends and readers, if I miss your posts or don’t read as many as I once did, these are the reasons why. I shall try my upmost to catch up on the weekends or nights when I’m not longing for my bed at 7.30 😦

My life has changed dramatically, but I had to take on the cleaning work as the Services aren’t enough to sustain my income… sad but true…and hard work never kills anyone now does it..

Thank you for your understanding, if I only hit the like button, believe that I have indeed read, for I think it terrible not too. It’s just that I haven’t the thinking capacity to leave an intelligent and thoughtful response.


In your presence

stay close
when I’m dispirited
as darkness chases light
my eyelids close on salted waves

hold my hand
if tears should fall
no strength to stand
drawing comfort from your embrace

speak softly
if I grow silent
for I have no words to speak
protect me in your arms

kiss my lips
the final moment
when darkness takes the light
and my soul lifts from the earth

copyright JMTacken 22.4.2014

I am in a dark mood again, it happens when I am tired.

It is what it is

the chapters of her life
read like a book
the page will be turned
the sentences read
paragraphs unfurl
and life at times will halt
as the full stop that she stares
at, when the sentence ends
a comma, gives time to ponder
semi colon her world; her life
she’ll ask if she’ll get through

the cover opens, held in her hands
she begins, unknowing what
paths will be taken
indeed what will be learnt
the synopsis preamble of
what may lie ahead

and will the ending matter
this life is hers she owns
she learns, make errors
two steps back – one forward
she will tread, uncovering
her story will be told
regardless of the words
and perhaps some chapters in
is where she will see
this is the book that had to be

copyright JMTacken 20.4.2014

Forgive me those who read, I haven’t written for a few days, I’m quite exhausted at the moment. This probably doesn’t make much sense, but I wrote it, because it was in my head tonight.

Ashes to Ashes

we are skin, bone, sinew, sheath protecting
rushing blood, heart that beats, muscle,
what would happen if skin peels back
what would others see

our imperfections inscribed on concrete paths
our loves and hates broadcast, wants, dreams
to strangers whose footsteps tred
unknowingly across our backs

we travel sometimes alone, learning life through
others and ourselves, our journey evolving
inwardly not sharing when our cross is hard
to bare and would strangers care

we walk and talk, the humans that we are
with foibles and finery, genetics make
our personality, we love, we hate, laugh, cry
complex creatures, the miracle of simply being

our hearts need to beat, our blood to flow
if broken and skin peeled back, we may reveal
bruises of the life we’ve led, that swelled
caused pain, that never surfaced

so take us for what we are, who we are
this short time on this earth, the marvels
of the human kind, for when all is said and done
we are bone, skin, sinew and blood

copyright JMTacken 9.4.2014

The below may be a little confronting. Apologies.

Today a small group of Funeral Celebrants had a tour of one of our local cemeteries set on 440 acres of land and 80,000 trees with beautifully manicured and maintained gardens.
We visited the sites of the Greek, Hindu, Chinese, Jewish, Italian graves and many more. We saw the baby to 3 year old site, which was full of colour and even a small playground and the children’s site. The site of our Victorian Police force who were killed in the line of duty.

Then we visited the building were the cremations took place. Down a steep driveway to a brick building, we entered quietly, reverently.

There was a gentleman with one of the furnaces open raking out the remains of ‘someone’ we stood, the three of us, silent. We saw a large femur bone, amongst the red ashes of the ‘kiln’.

He then asked if we wanted to witness the next one who was coming in. He wheeled in a coffin, adorned with yellow daisies, and opened the furnace door, sliding it carefully in. As soon as it was in place a massive flame came up and he closed the door. We all stood, watching, enthralled and curious about the event that took place in front of us.

The temperature exceeded 900deg. Those that have hip replacements or metal in their bodies were sifted through and a bottom furnace then burnt the remaining ashes. This may seem a morbid thing to write about, but as a funeral celebrant, knowing now how the process is, brought a sense of relief, in a way.

The process is handled with great care and respect. The bodies of loved ones are then placed into containers, all marked. They check the paperwork 5 times before each cremation.

We were told the higher the lacquer on the coffin, the faster it burns. That having cardboard coffins is environmentally unfriendly as they are held together with too much glue. They want the ashes to be in the purest state possible, so advise funeral directors and celebrants to deter families from placing photos, letters or other memorabilia in for their journey.

As we walked out the building, I started to get quite emotional and cry. I wrote the above last night, prior to this visit, not knowing what we were going to witness.

It brought home we are just ‘items’ in a way. Made up of many things, then when our time comes we are but ash, disintegrated parts of us, of what was us…dust to dust..hard to describe really…

We break at times


All the kings horses
all the kings men
couldn’t, they tried

So it’s told, so it’s said
the balancing act
juggling roles
in life, our own circus

Sometimes we falter
at times we fall
egg shell legs, fragile
glue won’t work

We mend us, we pick
ourselves up 
start over again
we try to minimise

We compensate
we hear the crack
we repair our damage
before it’s too late


©jmtacken 4/4/2014

Photo Credit