Friday Poem: Love is a Verb, and I Miss You

I’m not sure why I wrote this just now – it’s not an anniversary or anything. Maybe it’s the old photos I came across recently.Annette and

Sometimes loving you seems pointless
Love is a hug when times are tough;
A cup of tea in the afternoon;
A gift that says “I thought of you”;
A secret smile in a crowded room.

But I cannot hug you-
Your shoulders are dust;
You cannot drink
The tea I brew;
The thought of the gifts
I cannot give you
Are a secret tear
In an empty room.

Yet whoever I hug, I’m hugging for you;
The cup I share I have shared for you;
You are my gift, I give love for you –
And a secret smile in an empty room.a family trip

The blonde girl in these photos, taken over forty years ago, is my little sister, Merrilyn. The first photo was taken during a picnic at Hanging Rock, which later became famous (or infamous) thanks to the film, Picnic At Hanging Rock.  The pic above shows an encounter with an emu when we were on a family holiday. The lad in the sweater is our brother, Alan, the other girl, a passing stranger.Alan and Merrilyn

In this shot, which must be older, Alan is perched in a sapling, and Merrilyn rides her tractor in the background. You might notice that our front garden and it’s decor were a little bit unusual! Behind Merrilyn is a large cast-iron English ship’s cannon, which dad rescued from being melted down for scrap. It’s still there, but Merrilyn died in early 1992, aged 27.

Daily Post: Bold

Today’s prompt asks for accounts of daring do, and for artists, poets and photographers to show BOLD, and, after a moments thought, and a few minutes searching, I have just the thing…bold rock


Ask Ian Bloom –
Does he remember when I rescued him
At Hanging Rock?
It’s over thirty years ago,
A Christian Endeavour picnic.
As I remember it,
He wandered off alone
And scrambled down a steep rock
To a ledge,
And couldn’t get back up
Or down.
Sometime later,
I happened by –
He’d been there long enough
to panic-
And I hauled him up
With my strong arm.
I hadn’t thought of it for years.
But I remember the sweet triumph
That I, a girl,
Had rescued him, a boy,
And I was bravest.

I felt like the boldest of heroes that afternoon, full of swagger and daring do. I don’t remember what the year was – certainly before the movie “Hanging Rock” – but we were at that stage of adolescence in which he was rather small, and I was big for my age. Only I stopped growing about then, so that I ended up on the short side. I’ve no idea what became of Ian…

ps That rock in the photo is not Hanging Rock, not even close. Its a big, bold rock in the sea off Warrnambool.