ink marks on a blank page-monday

Bit banal to start off by saying, 'where do I start'? That is the burning and leading question though and there is never really a cogent or clear direction.Start what ,how, is there an intent? does the writer want to inform / rage /vent /satirise or just let all and sundry know what his/ her opinion is on whatever the main topic of the day is. I live in Australia so I can't talk with authority on the American elections or the money crisis they have created which is having an effect world wide with any great authority.

Australia,as I have noted when I have travelled the world, does not receive much press about anything of consequence that happens here apart from when we wanted to cull some koalas that were eating themselves out of house and home on Kangaroo Island. Animals I might add that had been introduced to that place and have bred up out of control and are subsequently starving, but they are cuddly little critters aren't they, and they do feature on our national icon list.

I shall leave that as I know it is controversial, and for their first blog who wants to inflame without notice? Instead I shall post a poem I wrote, adding that most of my poetry is autobiographical.

Thanks for getting this far, robbi (29-09-08)



oh Shirley

pirouette of my childhood
redgold autumn hair glinting in dusty sun,
you laughed and teased
spun dreams with indelible lies,
and bade me love you
for I did.

warm memories of forever summers
and hidden fumbles
etched your heart on my soul,
as the days spread open
you blithely danced your schemes whilst I segued my way
through each tangled web ,
then waited in weary eagerness for
night and sleep, just another passage to the doorway
of your history becoming my dreams

we watched the autumn dragonflies as they flew joined
in loves grace together , kissing still green water
then once , you said we could do that
as all innocents have and will, we did

perhaps it was then
when the taste of your saltiness awakened lust
I knew that this was where life began
the child had left ,
we had lost the icon of youth,
summer magic became just a fleeting season
the days were simply numbered hours ,
sleep reclaimed the night
age overcame the reason