Monthly Archives: April 2012

This ANZAC Day

I wish to share this poem For the Fallen in remembrance of our ANZAC troops.


For the Fallen

With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.

Solemn the drums thrill: Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres.
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.

They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables at home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England’s foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain,
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Laurence Binyon (1869–1943)

From Australian War Memorial @ 25/04/2012

Lest We Forget

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The One Who Showed Me

To my sister, who taught me some handy tricks to living life. Happy Birthday!
(I had to pop SWV, Brownstone and Tevin Campbell on for inspiration. Hope you like it).


From Tevin Campbell
to SWV
Kicking it to Brownstone
or hugging paused taped scenes of 3T
Growing up to Monica and Brandy
Janet, Blackstreet, Brian Mcknight and Jodeci
I love how you’ve influenced me
Not just from the beats
but also how to survive whenever I felt weak.
I love how yearly, your birthday is 6 days ahead of mine
because we have 7 years between us
I get 6 days to plan my year ahead
with you as my role model guide


For you.


To my sister who holds me to this day
From the days babysitting me as a child
To instantly suggesting jobs cos it was something I needed to find
Never am I out of her caring sight
and this I will cherish for life
and I pray with all that I have
That God continues to shine love onto your life
Your logic, your sense of responsibility
Your money saving ways
Although, sometimes extreme in a tight ass way (hehe)
but I’m glad you’re only a street or so away
Cos when karma strikes and its now you borrowing my clothes
I can get them back to wear straight away

You are a true blessing to me
A Miss Independent I inspire to be
and whatever it is that you are praying of God to do
I pray alongside you, hoping, too, that it will come true .


with Love, sprinkled with poetic cheese.


your sister.

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In My Diary

I’m double minded about wanting to talk to you. I don’t know if it is the juvenile side of myself still clinging because I don’t know how to accept death of things in my life. I don’t know if it’s all in my mind because I am surrounded by couples and children. I don’t know how I have convinced myself to the possibility that you have what I look for in this world. That you are the one who compliments me most.

Not knowing how you are, not knowing where you are, not knowing who you are anymore leaves me feeling uncertain because, to be honest, they are the opposites of what I dream at night, what I imagine during the day. Like the impossible dream slipped into the miraculous wishes drum waiting for it to be drawn and made come true.

I wonder if it’s just me not wanting to let go of what I was back in the days when you so happened to join me with this journey they call life. Caught in transition between different lifestyles, is it me trying to grasp the old me somehow. Is thinking and wanting to be with you a way for me to have some sort of certainty in my life. Is this just me saying I am a little lost so a little grip onto anything reasonable would do for now.

I’ve given myself so many weeks of excuses of why I shouldn’t call, or get in contact with you. What if’s drive me insane. I hate them. So here I am, almost had my pride aside, building up the courage to man up against rejection. But no. The obscure blank text sent. Meaning of the silence endless and possibility of a reaction unknown. Or even if the number is still being used at all.

The greatest fear is if they don’t remember me at all. If they’ve moved on and I haven’t. Which leaves me feeling pretty stupid and alone. Sad but true, here I am, still not over you.

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A Thing of Beauty

My entry For The Poetry Challenge

Something Like a thing of beauty
(That’s just happened to me)
Something I cant explain
More than the big dream
Coming to reality.
Better than gold
Being poured out of my silvers
Better than that car with the shiny rims

Its like Ancient Rome rising up from the ruins
Its like the treasures from deep
Coming up from the bottom of the sea
Its Like making discoveries of the past
uncovering skeletons, piecing the puzzles of history
Like a love from the tales of destiny
To have, after so much giving
This moment everlasting
Prayer answered
I am free.


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