Day 10   Prompt: Future, Form: Sonnet, Device: Chiasmus

I haven’t managed to fit in any word reversals but in a way I feel the whole poem covers a reversal so that’s my compromise.


Earth to Earth

The land has suffered from man’s greed

Upturned, denuded ground

No respect for Mother Nature

Just took whate’er they found

But all too soon the day will come

When Earth’s no place to be

For those who live the high-tech life

And elsewhere they will flee


But those who live a simple life

Will tend the Earth again

Enrich her soil, embrace her sun

Cherish her blessed rain.



Day 9: Prompt: Landscape, Form: Found Poetry, Device: Enumeratio

The Mitcham council area is divided roughly into the hills and plains. Both areas have many street trees but the hills area is characterized by dense sections of trees and shrubs. Feral Olives are a pest in some parts, covering the hillsides. Their thick leaf coverings disguise the damage they cause in gullies. Feral Olives create a serious fire risk. The trees burn ferociously and destroy the shelter provided by native plants to birds and other animals. Lorikeets, Wattlebirds, Magpies and Currawongs are all found in the Mitcham hills.

Residents are discouraged from removing spiky, native shrubs such as Kangaroo Thorn as these protect smaller birds such as Wrens, Spinebills,  Silvereyes  and.Pardalotes

Grey Box Trees, although not considered as attractive as some other species of Eucalypts, sustain many Koalas and residents must seek council approval before removing any of these Trees.


Sunday Drives


This reminds me of a common weekend happening. The Sunday Drive. We would just go off in the car usually not heading for a particular place, the drive was the purpose. Dad would put a piece of flat, steel plate in a hessian bag in the boot and we would stop for a BBQ lunch in a nice spot somewhere. I  don’t  remember any Esky so the food must just have been put into a box in the boot. It was always chops or sausages, bread and sauce. I doubt there was ever salad, that would have involved plates and cutlery etc. Too much hassle.


I don’t know if any cars had them but our car certainly had no luxuries like air conditioning or radio. To make the drive more enjoyable Dad always insisted we sing. No excuses were tolerated, we all had to sing. One of Dad’s favourites was “Lavender Blue” and I thought it was just stupid with its “Diily Dillys”. “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag” was another favourite with Dad and we all liked “How Much is that Doggie in the Window”.


If we weren’t singing we were playing, “I Spy” though our version was, “Riddle Me, Riddle Me, Riddle Me Ree, There’s something I can see and it starts with ……” . This always went along fine until my sister had a turn then we would all be guessing and guessing to no avail only to discover when we all gave up that it had been something like, “t for post”.

I remember one Sunday driving back home through Bridgewater, a little town in the hills. We were just near the old Bridgewater Mill, traffic was bumper to bumper and we kids were arguing and fighting in the backseat. We must have been getting too intense because Dad looked around to tell us off and bumped into the car in front. Luckily there was no damage but it certainly silenced us for the rest of the journey home.

If it was springtime many of the cars returning home after a day out would have a sprig of Wattle tucked under the windscreen wiper. I loved coming home in the dark and seeing all the lights of the city spread out below.

The Fingers

My fingers are the link

A common feature that guaranteed

He was my father

And the same for him back through the ages.

Over the years it gave me comfort

Of all his children I had the most obvious link

The connection

Some people ask, “Did you break it?”

“No”, I say, “They’re both the same. It’s genetic.”

And now the babies come

With each new arrival I check the fingers

The sign always makes me smile.

It’s our connection

To our past

To the future.

Ode to the Walkman

Day 8: Prompt: Drawer, Form: Ode, Device: Apostrophe


Left in the drawer, untouched for years

Seeing you now, memory clears.

Your whirr going forward, your whirr going back

The click of your button, stopped in your track.

The tangle of tape when things went wrong,

Feeding back in that took so long.


Oh! The freedom, your small size gave

And pleasure felt, hearing friends rave.

The joy you brought, wonderful sound

Modern marvel, technology found.

First of your kind, you led the way

Others to follow, to have their day.


Lie in the drawer, no need to fear.

No trashcan for you, you are too dear.


Day 7 Prompt: Fingers, Form: Prose, Device: Assonance

No assonance in this one.


Sideways glances.

 Watch the fingers flying.

 Quick looks at the sound of a laugh.

How can that mean anything?

In the silence there is happiness.

Friends reunited.

Ignoring the stares of curious strangers.

Exploits and confidences shared.

Concerns conveyed.

Relaxed, happy.

Relishing the company and conversation.

So much expression and meaning those wonderful fingers convey.

It’s music for the soul.


No fingers but a little assonance in this one:

How can we make it

Sound the same

When our accents

Are all different?

The Roman Candle

Day 6: Prompt – Hero, Form – Ballad, Device – anaphora (a-NAH-fra) and epistrophe (eh-PIS-tro-fee)



Dad wasn’t afraid of good hard work,

He wasn’t one to laze and shirk


The weeds were long, the job was hard,

Desire not strong, to weed  the yard,

A fire could burn it all so quick,

A lot can happen with one match flick!


Dad wasn’t afraid of good hard work,

He wasn’t one to laze and shirk


Killed with heat, the grass was dead,

Area neat everyone said.

Until night came, out of the tree

A raging flame, we all could see.


Dad wasn’t afraid of good hard work,

He wasn’t one to laze and shirk


The fireman came, the fire put out,

Who was to blame? There was some doubt.

So off they went into the night,

Charging none for the Candle light.