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GOAT pancake pie erm…

Pancakes share a growling affair
To boost the morale of the monster with
jowls

Still

hibernating
inside a despairing mind of an almost self redundant writer

groans unable to fit into an unremarkable, once favoured racy red garter.

This poem is quite silly
I could throw a goat in here and call him
Kill Billy…

Because he had a penchant for consuming plenty pancakes with half fat cream cheese

Sell them on the hillside,
he did.

Not far from
ole blighty

With a spring in his hooves,
a dapper smile,
a shimmy in his groove.

Singing through a mouthful of home made shove

This isn’t a poem!
These are words to be damned to the books of ,’oh, Crikey’!

A poem from a strange daughter

If  foresight revealed you would  always  remain  my biggest fan

then in retrospect, I’m certain you wished that you had made a better escape plan.

I type these words weary & mothered out.

Wondering how I can still love a child who dismisses me without having to shout.

I do.

Mostly love

Mostly nag & figure motherhood out.

Is it worth it?

Life is fleeting.

these words would sound better if interpreted by a Geisha learning how to interpret the I Ching.

Silver linings

strive to find a purpose.

Whatever doesn’t kill you makes you may make you stronger

It also makes one weary and often a bit teary.

 I carry on the tradition

light  your cake as a reminder

that without you there would be no fire lit in my belly savouring the meaning of meaning.

Life is a celebration, a trial and cursed blessing.

I have no words to convey how much I have sinned.

To quote a wise lady I’ll be happy if I can be a quarter the lady my mother is when…

she draws the curtains on her solo performance of a life lived.

life would have been sung by the haunting blues & myriad cherubs singing ‘Elysium exists’ hymn after hymn.

Happy birthday –  psalm 58 to the creator of  hope & faith

a celebration to your mortality.

Insightful are those who keep a track of the moments lived in the presence

& know how to make all of it count.