The Hide

10/02/2021 – Poem a Day Compilation



I looked at the hide

And sighed one of those sighs

That said to everyone around

That I did not want to be there



Last time I’d been in one of these

I’d been a small child

Dragged along by my father

And told to be quiet all the time



I remember sitting in the dark

For hours on end

With nothing to do

But stare at the walls



I wasn’t even allowed

To alleviate my boredom

To look through the binoculars

At the passing birds



Even in the half light

From the barely open hatch

I could just make out the pictures

That covered the inside walls



I knew every parrot, lorikeet, cockatoo

Every wading bird and bird of prey

All the ducks and gulls that might fly by

And every other bird besides



I’d only said in passing, you know,

That I had gone birding with my dad

But that was enough to once again

Be dragged to sit for the longest time



We stepped inside and that familiar smell

Filled my nostrils and my lungs

Memories flashed of my father’s voice

Telling me what birds to tick off



But you didn’t have a little book

To tick off birds that you’d seen

Your bag was filled with different gear

For a different generation of enthusiast



You pulled out a pair of binoculars

And hung them around your slender neck

Then reached into the bag again

And handed your pride and joy



A camera with the biggest lens

That I had seen an amateur wield

And I cradled it gently as you explained

The basics and set the auto-focus



The hide was not so boring now

It was filled with excitement under wraps

As kingfishers swooped to steal a fish

And fairy wrens flitted by



Before too long sunset came

And the hide was filled with noises new

And I knew I was hooked

Just as my dad had been before

A Letter to Myself

30/11/2020 – Poem a Day Compilation



If I wrote a letter to myself

From me as I am now

With all the knowledge that 40 years brings

To my teenage self

Who thought they knew it all

And probably wouldn’t listen

It would go something like this:



Say yes more often when you’re young

But not so much when you’re older

Opportunities should be grabbed by the horns

But as we get older, time becomes precious

And knowing what will bring you joy

And what will bore you to death

Is a wonderful skill to have.



Don’t worry about what people think of you

Because most of those people won’t matter

Not in five years’ time, nor in fifty years’ time

So, choose wisely whose put downs you hear

Take the insults with a smile

And be gracious in victory

Because everyone battles their demons differently.



Follow your dreams wherever they may go

And don’t let anyone try to pigeonhole you

Into being someone or something you’re not

Because you’re a long time an adult

And doing something you don’t want to do

Just to pay the bills

Is hard slog until retirement.



Find your people

The ones who make you shine

From the inside out

And who share your excitement

Even if they don’t understand it

Because having someone there

Who offers that is magic.



Don’t let the excuses you make for yourself

Tie you down or hold you back

When you know what you’re capable of

When the world is your oyster

And when it’s your own voice betraying you

Because you could be great

If only you let yourself try.

The Architect

20/08/2020 –  Poem a Day Compilation



I’ve always wanted to be an architect,

Ever since I was a little child,

But circumstances conspired against me

And I chose a different path.



I wish I could go back

And offer my teenage self advice

To follow your heart

Instead of what you feel obliged to do.



I would have told myself to work harder

Because it’s something I’ve come to regret

And now it feels impossible

To reach for that dream again.

Growing Older

29/04/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation



George Burns once said that

You can’t help getting older,

But you don’t have to get old,

And I think that may be the philosophy

By which I have been living my life,

Except that I’ve always framed it

As the difference between getting old

And growing up.



I’ve never felt the need to grow up,

To let go of the childishness

Of play and wonder and creativity.

And speaking to my mother,

She often says to me that

She’s never felt like a proper grown up,

And I wonder if any of us really do

Or if it’s just a delusion we perpetuate.



We worry about the ravages of age,

The frailty and the infirmity of the body

And the degradation of the mind,

And if we would want to live that way,

With a mind trapped in a broken body

Or a willing body but a mind erased;

Could we not have a finite existence
And know our end date in advance?