Sunday 30 December 2012

Goodbye 2012




Goodbye 2012

Jacaranda flowered for the first time,

Wrens came back for a while,

Magpies packed up and left.

Honeyeaters moved in.

Yellow faced black cockatoos flew over West Footscray.

Marbled geckos patterned our red brick driveway,

Possums invaded.

 

Sunsets were viewed all over Victoria,

Moon and Stars watched from the fly wire windows of our campervan,

Industrial sunsets were watched every night on West Footscray walks.

 

Rode over many hills from Lilydale to Warburton,

For many kms on wondrous adventure with son.

Formed a close bond and shared the love of a new dog in my life.

Doubted myself and my talents and learnt not to do this anymore.

 

Observed spiders spin webs,

Ladybirds explore marigolds,

Dragonflies glisten and hover above water,

Reeds dance in the wind.

 

Shared sense of wonder of nature with children.

Swam in the ocean alone,

Went fishing with a friend,

Walked for MS,

Rode for Smith Family,

Over Westgate bridge twice.

Watched the moon,

The moon watched me.

 

Experienced sadness,

Shared sadness and hard times with friends

Felt fear which froze me,

Said goodbye to my job at the Royal Botanic Gardens and cried a river of tears.

Farewelled friends,

Made new friends,

Cared for Quolls,

Watched sunset on top of boulders at Mt Rothwell,

Observed deep space,

Fell in love with Pleiades all over again.

 

Taught teenagers for the first time,

They taught me.

As a team helped the planet,

Shared the wonders of the world,

 

Shared love and support of loved ones,

Took up challenges,

Shared my writing on social media,

Let my heart ache,

Experienced disappointment,

Watched my family grow and love life,

Laying on the grass at Warburton watching the moon and stars with my 8 year old son,

Knowing that moment was one of the best in 2012.

At the end of our cycling journey – just us- watching the universe- in shared wonder.

 

Goodbye 2012

 
Robbie 2012

 

 

 

 

Saturday 29 December 2012

West Footscray Wool Stores


West Footscray Wool Stores

 
West Footscray- Watson’s Wool store,
Sunshine Rd,
Goldsborough, Mort and Co LTD neighbours.
Drawn to these haunting, vast buildings on my West Footscray walks.
Coral’s dad worked at Watson’s in the 60s-
As a child she loved the fish pond out front –koi swimming under date palms-
The Xmas family picnics-
One year Coral wore her tartan skirt and powder blue cashmere cardigan – which was torn climbing fences- hence was a memorable Xmas picnic.
 
Walking past the wool store I watch pigeons roosting up high on the stained rooves,
I wonder of their views over the West Footscray “Hansen for Houses” 40s estate.
Who is intriguing them today?

 
Randomly broken window panes of the wool stores are openings for my curiosity,
Child inside me yearns to climb through and explore these vast buildings,
For clues of the times Coral’s dad worked there.
Like the stencilled signs on the brick walls out front,
Faded but still there-
Tattoos of time.

Imagine the gardens restored to their original state,
I see my reflection in the garden pond,
Up the path and knocking on the bulging burgundy doors,
A VIP visitor from one of Hansen’s houses,
Tea and scones with the manager and a complimentary bale of wool.

 
Some buildings still used to store wool- love the bales lined up outside,
The smell of wool wafting through broken panes,
Intriguing architecture,
In an exquisite Industrial Landscape.

 
Rob 2012

 

 

 

 

Monday 24 December 2012

TED'S STOCKING

Ted's Stocking

Ted is eight year's old- the same as you,
This year he has a sequinned, spangled stocking,
Hanging from the knob of the white chest of drawers that were my Nan's,
Hanging parallel to your silky red stocking- Ted is as excited as you-it's Christmas Eve.

I am perplexed- what will Ted receive from Santa?
Maybe a new ribbon like the one he wore to hospital to first meet you ?
In Aunty Karen's outstretched arms-
It was love at first sight-
Ted's glistening eyes filled with love when he saw you,
Curled in a squished ball of soft blankets - he dreamed of the day you would hug him gently and share dreams.

I know -maybe some honey - Ted's favourite food in a  silver thimble to drink,
Or a  badge of bravery-
For Ted has shared many more first times than us.
He's shared your surgery just last week,
Snuggled you tight as you drifted into slumber.
He whispered stories of shared adventures to soothe your fear away.
Ted's travelled to Ballarat on your first scout camp,
He calmed you to sleep  and blocked his ears in a room of noisy boys.
Ted's climbed trees and sped down pulley systems,
He's been on bike rides in pannier bags,
Head poking out to watch the views of rolling hills and vineyards to Warburton.

Ted's gone missing many times,
Discovered in the depths of couch cushions,
Under the bed,
Alone and frightened - brave Ted,
Been stitched unevenly and operated on-
Re- stuffed unrecognisably,
And lovingly squashed back to Ted with your familiar cuddles.

Ted's shared your sadness and happiness,
His fur soaked with your tears,
Even pegged on the line by his ears.

Ted's proud of your new cub badges for bike riding and first aide,
I know now what Ted will get in his stocking!!!!
A badge of your love - a fabric love heart- of silver and sequins,
The always unconditonal love of the life's journey of a Teddy Bear !!!!
Ted .

Robbie  Dec 24th 2012

Saturday 15 December 2012


West Footscray Moon

My West Footscray moon gazes down at me,
Through mazes of wires and lights of Tottenham railyards.
It sees through my walking heart,
Soft ,melted, exposed,
But wrapt in strong corrugation -protected.
Only the moon sees the wild beating,
A heart which yearns,
A yearning -walking heart in West Footscray.
Pounding past the barbed wire fences,
Adorned with Angels made from white torn plastic,
Dancing freely- though trapped.
The moon follows the path of my heart.
My heart it yearns for the wilderness,
Beyond the railway yards-
Of adventures in lands only the moon has seen.
To other galaxies and nebulas-
I wait for my sliver winged horse to take me.....
My West Footscray heart yearns,
While the moon shares my dreams.

Rob 2012


Friday 30 November 2012

Neighborhood Heartache


West Footscray Heart Broken


Dave’s had a bottle smashed on the back of his neck,

Asked the neighbours to keep the music down,

His reply was violence,

Last time saw Dave was at my front door,

He had a bunch of purple Easter daisy from his garden,

The size of our lounge room- vivid purple turned my heart yellow,

Dave’s been away travelling – only just got back,

Check if he’s okay – give him our number, ring day or night-

 The night it unfolded- I came home to four police cars lining our street,

The violence  also insidiously spread to the bottle shop, slashed face, blood smeared down Dave’s duco of his white car-ugly red graffiti,

I went to the pool and I swam and swam- submerging my mind into the numbness of the rhythm, my arms pulling through the water hard and fast-

The quietness underneath the water blocked the screaming, the yelling, the sirens, the confusion, the sadness in my heart,

My West Footscray heart is breaking,

Why do some people see the world through violent eyes?

Gentle eyes can never comprehend this-

Dave rents a 40s weatherboard same as ours- worn with paint shedding hundreds of stories into the night sky,

Stories of other lands and dreams,

His house is a jungle of indoor plants and exotic pieces from far away places,

Out back there’s  a field of flowers Dave’s grown and a paddock of chooks-

A breathtaking   oasis of colour against the rusted corrugated  industrial skyline,

Dave’s field of flowers is so beautiful – I am moved to tears,

My West Footscray is a community so diverse and rich in culture ,

The woolshed and the corrugated iron fences, the railway goods yards,

The prickly pears and the vintage rose gardens, the industry, the trucks,

The diversity of families – a community of sharing, not violence,

…………and Dave’s flowers.

 

Rob 2012
 

 

 

 

Sunday 23 September 2012

What is love ?


What is Love?

A small white feather drifts towards me-

Hand reaches out-

Softness caresses my skin-

I lean and gently blow the feather

Into the blue.

I watch -caught in its slow motion,

Gentle traveller

Fragile beauty.

Love simply is-

A feather.

Drifting in and out

Of a caress,

A moment,

And the tenderness of its travel-

Its sensitive landing-

To touch a heart.

The mystery of its destination

Is a reflection of the souls yearnings-

It glides, spins, spirals down,

But is uplifted by the breeze-

As the heart is in love.

Love –

Simply is

A feather.
Robyn

Autumn


Autumn

Scribbled in my diary  we are to meet up second day of Autumn,

Strictly business-

 I sit on grass opposite the Fitzroy library waiting for your warm smile,

Autumn conversation as we walk Fitzroy streets is as colourful as the changing leaves,

Cumbungi harvesting as a child,

All things made of sugar and flour,

Russian sunflowers behind wire fences,

Joy behind ugliness,

Graffiti artists and marzipan,

Beauty of industrial buildings,

Time management and pork panini rolls and good company.

Happiness in my autumn soul,

Second day Autumn

Rob 2012

 

 

 

 

Tuesday 11 September 2012

Nan


53 Wordsworth st- Nan

 Rose bordered path,

Leads steeply up towards cream weatherboard,

Californian bungalow.

Blue and purple hydrangeas

In full bloom.

Nan leans over the balcony,

Beckons us in with her smile.

We are young children.

Overnight bags unpacked,

Out back in mum’s old bedroom,

With the mirror on the wall,

Which made my eyes very green.

Cards at the kitchen table,

Crib, 500, donkey and Nan’s favorite sevens.

Nan peels apple skin into a perfect monkey’s tail.

Macaroni pudding, stewed fruit and custard.

Daytime games of imagination-

Horses with brooms,

Their stables under the house,

Trotting up and down the path,

Galloping across the grass.

Pouring water down the gully trap,

Nan’s hair has been rinsed “True steel”.

Sitting at the kitchen table,

There’s neighborhood gossip,

And talk of bowls games and upcoming events.

Getting ready for bed,

Hitchcock’s “To Catch a Thief” in the evening.

Columbine toffees to greedily unravel and devour,

The toffee sticking hard to our teeth.

Nan’s teeth in a plastic cup on the bathroom sink,

Pink bathroom smells of tea rose powder.

Open and shut the bathroom mirror cupboard,

“Cyclax” lipsticks and many Cyclax beauty products,

Dear great Aunty Molly was their accountant.

Yellow pottery vase I made for Nan,

Fake violets bunched inside,

Resting on Nan’s polished side table.

So proud how Nan displayed my hand made gift.

Nan tucks us in tight,

Wrapped in her leopard print dressing gown,

Hair net pinned down carefully,

Large feet encased in burgundy velvet slippers with bows,

We kiss and hug her goodnight.

 Twenty something-

I take my bags inside 53,

Living on my own now, like Nan.

In the evening we talk at length,

Of boys who broke my heart,

We watch telly together.

Nan remembers days past-

We chat from bedroom to bedroom,

Call out goodnight.

One wall separates Grandmother and grand daughter.

So much love my Nan has given me,

Rob 2009

 

.

 

 

 

Swim


Swim

Submerging my heavily pregnant body in the warmth of the pool,

Trademark  pink  goggles enclosing  green eyes.

Weightless I move slowly through the water,

Taking my baby for a swim – rocking side to side,

The silence under the water is sublime,

The silence lulls me into a multitude of future dreams,

How I will love you when you are born,

The things we will do together,

Oblivious of the vast changes in my life’s landscape ahead.

The end of each lap – rub my stomach in circular motions,

You have gone to sleep.

Heave myself from the pool- proud of my huge rounded “baby” tummy.

I know you will love water just like me.

Rob 2011

 

 

 

Bougainvillea Dreaming


Bougainvillea Dreaming

Canopy of purple petals cascade down my hair,

Toss my hair and bougainvillea confetti,

Scatters to grass beneath me,

I lie alone on a bed of soft purple,

Look up at the blue sky,

Through a mass of purple vines,

I am in a dream far away from reality,

Floating on purple clouds of sunshine,

What is my truth ?

My truth is oneness,

Aloneness but completeness,

My truth is simple,

Self acceptance,

Abundance of love to give and more,

Intangible dreams of purple milkshakes with purple syrup, purple ice-cream and purple cheesecake,

My Bougainvillea dreams.

 

Robyn 2011

Monday 30 April 2012

When I was 7

When I was 7

I used coloured rods for maths at school,
Loved the pink ones- think they were worth 2 or was it 5 ?
Mrs Larkins screamed all day,
Was a huge well- fed dragon,
Mouth red from blowing fire at us all day-
Often wondered if she had taken a student back to her cave to eat,
There always seemed to be someone missing.
Played cubbies in the cypress pines-
Drank warm milk delivered to school.
Our brown Austin Tasman always broke down on the way to school,
Often late toclass.
Played “lost in space” in the school yard.
I was regretfully always Penny but wanted to be Judy.
When I was 7 it was 1975-
We had terry towelling car seat covers, shorts and chenille bed spreads.
We never wore seat bealts-
Played at Kelly and Kirk’s after school-
They had a modern 70s house overlooking the river.
Kelly was killed in a car accident at 21- her and five friends killed instantly-
She was a backseat passenger.
Kelly’s smile was the sun.
Kirk’s death notice was Billy Joel’s “Only the good die young”
Kirk was killed in a superbike accident at 35-
He was a famous rider.
Kelly and Kirk’s parents lost their smiles forever.
In 1975- Kirk loved Evel Knivel.
When I was 7 my brother David and I would walk to the milk bar for mixed lollies,
50 lollies for 20cents,
We played up at Shaw’s dairy farm in amongst the boxthorns
We never got home till sunset
When I was 7.

What was your life like at 7 ????

Robbie

Sunday 29 April 2012

Barry

Ode to Barry

Barry is our neighbor,
Seventy something,
Stunning voice Sunday night backyard and a beer,
Belts out Elvis,
We love hearing him sing.
Barry is a gardener,
Shares his vegies,
Pumpkin on the doorstop Sunday morning,
Barry mows the elderly neighbor's grass,
He brings their bins in,
His garden is awash with shining baubles- Xmas,
Barry one of the kindess human beings I've met.
One night Barry was bashed in his front porch by a "supposed" friend.
I took him down the station to sort it out,
Society can be cruel.
Barry is an animal lover - feeds the magpies and the strays,
He's a beautiful cook and an artist,
Barry's shifting house,
When he told me my heart secretly broke,
Will miss him like you wont believe,
Barry's a story- teller,
A gem in our industrial suburb,
A connector a communicator a carer,
No digital space in Barry's world,
Just an oasis of kindness for others,
And a beautiful singing voice we will miss forever.

Do you know your neighbors well ? We have some treasures- characters and real caring people- Sometimes in this busy world we forget to check in on our neighbors- maybe the isloated new mums, or families living far away from home or our elderly friends. Just dropping in for a cuppa like the "old" days - makes a world of difference to their day.

Rob