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Mothers Day


sil mum

My mother was the epitome of perfection

She was eighty nine when she passed away

Who left us with many happy memories

Of everything she did and everything she had to say

For over sixty years she cared for her family

Which was composed of four girls and one boy

In spite of the many problems she had to face

She managed to fill our lives with joy

Memories of those times often come into my mind

These memories drive the sadness of her loss away

The efforts that she made and the joy she gave

Are remembered so on mothers day

Ron Martin


Poem for Mothers’ Day – Promote Yourself


Here’s the Hippie one!


Hey, mother
I thank you
for that dreamy childhood
teaching me what I could


Hey, mother
I thank you
for that happy meal
teaching me never to steal

Hey, mother
I thank you
for that soft lap
where I took a long nap


Hey, mother
I thank you
for that healing slap
remindin’ me that was a mishap


Hey, mother
I thank you
for the pain that you felt
to lift me to this Earth

Hey, mother
I thank you.

Sarvjit Singh

My Two Mothers – Promote Yourself


My Two Mothers
A Burmese beauty
A northern rock
A life of travel
A life of the street

A sensitive mind
A bevy of friends
A love of nature
A love of food

A wartime refugee
A staircase to protect
A love of classics
A love of bingo

One loved her daughters
One loved her sons
Such different women
Such cherished mothers

Chalk and cheese
My mother
My mother in law
Always remembered

Eve Thomson

The Butter Factory



It was built of things that must not mix:
paint, cream, and water, fire and dusty oil.
You heard the water dreaming in its large
kneed pipes, up from the weir. And the cordwood
our fathers cut for the furnace stood in walls
like the sleeper-stacks of a continental railway.

The cream arrived in lorried tides; its procession
crossed a platform of workers' stagecraft: Come here
Friday-Legs! Or I'll feel your hernia--
Overalled in milk's colour, men moved the heart of milk,
separated into thousands, along a roller track--Trucks?
That one of mine, son, it pulls like a sixteen-year-old--
to the tester who broached the can lids, causing fat tears,
who tasted, dipped and did his thin stoppered chemistry
on our labour, as the empties chattered downstage and fumed.

Under the high roof, black-crusted and stainless steels
were walled apart: black romped with leather belts
but paddlewheels sailed the silvery vats where muscles
of the one deep cream were exercised to a bullion
to be blocked in paper. And between waves of delivery
the men trod on water, hosing the rainbows of a shift.

It was damp April even at Christmas round every
margin of the factory. Also it opened the mouth
to see tackles on glibbed gravel, and the mossed char louvres
of the ice-plant's timber tower streaming with
heavy rain all day, above the droughty paddocks
of the totem cows round whom our lives were dancing.

Written by: Les Murray

Certain Days Like These



Are we meant to match up with the climate around us?

Today’s forecast – gloomy,

periodic stillness

intermittent tears.

Winds that wound around our souls

create a need to seek shelter

from the agony of a reality that sometime implodes.


The rains leave us helpless when they spill onto dry eyes.

Water resistant fears

allow the cold, bitter, icy

trails beyond our reach

to become frozen;

We reach out skeptic

arms of early tanned limbs wanton of sunlit skies.


Are we expected to fold up our tents and buckle in fear?

The horizon is a masked hue

of forbidden outcomes

waiting to be renounced

or acted upon with frivolous

denial of lurking dangers.

Chasing storm fronts as we are told to fight our battles alone.


When I die the sun will rise as normally as an autumn mourning.

Temperatures will remain

as different as a forest trail

left without trodden norms

for two or three seasons

while the earth revives

Her manner of grace we so often forget envelops our silly lives.


©Thom Amundsen 2014


History has so many lessons to teach us
So many truths that we can discern
We might be concerned with events in the past
But it is the future which should be our main concern
This future will depend upon the preparation we make
The willingness to use the skills that we possess
To hone them to the peak of perfection
And not to adopt the attitude of those who couldn’t care less
There are some who think the world owes them a living
And that others should provide the benefits they crave
That a good pension will be provided for them in their old age
And that there is no need for them to save
But recent revelations have shown this to be an illusion
And that the country cannot afford the sums involved
That the number of people drawing pensions is increasing
It is a problem that must ultimately be solved
Otherwise the future for the older generations will be bleak
As they struggle to survive on what others can afford
If the poor cannot save for their old age
Then the Government will need to do something we can applaud
How much longer can the problem be ignored?
Can we continue to bury our heads in the sand?
It is a serious problem with which we are confronted
One which demands that the solution is carefully planned
Unless taxation is going to be dramatically increased
Then better use must be made of the revenue they currently take
Either way this will involve sacrifices by those enjoying a good standard
It’s a difficult decision that any future government must make 

Ron Martin

Elegance Revisited on a Summer Lawn


Sweet summer sounds begin night’s revelry

We gather newly, friends of every

walk of life distant paths did create

a journey that brings us here to this date.

Scan sure across the lawn and see each new

smile, response, laughter suggests we all knew

one another in time, another place

when life moved fast, our hearts barely at pace.

Visions complete alluring escapade

her eyes appear, are met by shadowed shade

A sudden stir captures the minions,

sweet elegance presents your white linens

I can only watch your beauty in grace

while everyone near, forgets our embrace.


© Thom Amundsen 2014



sea side

Where have all the summers gone,

Those barmy days spent in the sun,

The memories all come flooding back,

When I was very young.


I am sure we had rainy days,

When it was murky and cold,

I seem to remember only warm days,

And the stories that I was told.


Of stories by the seaside,

In caravans lit by gas,

Of ablutions that were separate,

A necessary trip alas.


Tucked up in bed in the caravan,

Listening to the pouring rain,

Then up again next morning,

To see the sun shining again.


After breakfast up to the sea,

Carrying our bucket and spade,

Filled it with sand and seashells,

Then counted all the sandcastles we made.


Off to the funfair,

Won a hat, kiss me quick,

Rode all the rides,

That made me felt quite sick.


All these things I remember,

And good times that we had,

I will never forget the summers,

When I was just a lad.

Malcolm G Bradshaw



Thank you God for the beauty,

 You bedecked this wonderful world,

 For the beauty of nature,

And its mysteries you unfurled.


For all the beautiful landscapes,

For the blueness of the skies,

For the many tiny insects,

The bees and butterflies,


Thank you for the sun,

That bathes our world with light,

Thank you for the moon,

That lights our way at night.


Thank you for the birds,

That fills our world with sound,

And for the animal kingdom,

That brings joy to all around.


Thank you for the air we breathe,

The water and the seas,

Thank you for the beautiful flowers,

 The rain and gentle breeze.


Thank you for life itself,

To experience these wonderful things,

To be part of your glorious Kingdom,

And all the gifts that it brings.


 Malcolm G Bradshaw

You are the sun – Promote Yourself


You’re the sun I never shun

Besides you, I cherish none

You’re the prize I’ve ever won

For hard times, joy and fun

You proved to be the one


You’re my source of light

You made my life so bright

I am ravished with delight

Whether here or out of sight

I remain your grateful knight


© Chaouki Mkaddem

June 3rd, 2014


Chaouki M’kaddem
Senior EFL teacher,
Ministry of Education, Tunisia


man on bed
I lay upon my bed, my mind was full of doubt,
I tried to understand what life is all about,
I hoped that in some way the answer would become clear,
And when I understood, this would rid me of my fear.
I’d taken a close look at life, and disliked what I saw,
People who had plenty, demanding even more,
There did not seem a way to satisfy their greed,
For while other people struggle, they have far more than they need.
And then I looked at myself and came to realise,
That I could look the same through other people’s eyes,
My attitude might lead others to think I do not really care,
Since of life’s treasures I too am seeking a bigger share.
Can this be wrong? I had to ask myself.
Is it really wrong to seek to get more wealth?
By wanting a bigger share of life’s treasure store,
Could it be that I am making other people poor?
The thought that this could be filled me with remorse,
It made me realise that my life should take a different course,
From now on I realised that I should try to be,
Someone who was concerned for the whole of society.
When this realisation came into my mind,
I knew that I must try it, hoping that I would find
Contentment in my soul, the answer was very clear,
People would take a look at me and know I really care.
Of other people’s problems I really am aware,
And in many ways I have tried to show I care,
When other people take a close look at me,
That is the image I hope that they will see.
Ron Martin




Listen to the silence,

So peaceful and so calm,

Feel secure in the silence,

For it will do you no harm.


Listen to the wind,

Feel it upon your face,

Watch it blow the leaves around,

At a fast and furious pace.


Listen to the rain,

As it sends its torrents down,

Watch the raindrops dance,

As they fall upon the ground.


Listen to the snowflake,

As it gently finds its way,

To join the snow covered earth,

For snow has come to stay.


All these things are around us,

Listen and you will find,

The quietness all around you,

Will give you peace of mind.


Malcolm G Bradshaw  




Dear Mother, the guns of battle,

Are ringing in my ear,

This letter I am writing,

May be the last I fear,


We are going forward,

To gain some worthless ground,

The gun’s they have started,

They make an awful sound.


There is shrapnel flying everywhere,

My heart is beating fast,

O Mother I have lost so many friends,

Most of them were gassed,


Alone am I the fear has gone,

The noise is far away,

The fear that is within has calmed,

As in the mud I lay.


The pain and the squalor,

Doesn’t hurt anymore,

My part in this battle is over,

For me I have had my war,


I hope and pray the sons of God,

Will always strive for peace,

Never again to kill and maim,

That all wars will cease.


Mother for me this war is over,

This letter I cannot send,

So I gave it to a trusted man,

A comrade and a friend,


God is now my protector,

For he has shown me the light,

No more into battle,

No more will I fight,


For death is just another state,

My spirit has journeyed on,

For I was just another soldier,

Who was killed upon the SOMME?


Malcolm G Bradshaw  


Wisdom – Promote Yourself

Who Who
Says the owl deep
Wide, through the bends
In the trees shadows
The darkening sky, her
Voice carries smoothly, reaching
Beyond her perch reminding
All the little wandering animals
In the forest, their home
She is listening, waiting
You You
Says the voice inside
Your heart only as loud
As the volume is
Turned up, mute
You easily understand what
Feeling alone
Having no voice
No true words, spark
No particular plan, dream
Oh sweet girl you are not
Alone in this world, your voice
Echoes into your wildest
Dreams, no need to whisper
Wonder if you are, everything
As you were, are
It doesn’t matter where
You have been, now
Said what might have been, okay
Me Me
Says the wounded parts
Doing their best to protect
From everything they don’t ask, first
A voice full of fists, soften
No rest, love
Tries it’s call, only
Mouthing the words
At first, then finally sound
Starts to bubble up and you
Can’t keep it in, more
You speak louder, louder
Your color vibrant, brilliant
Wonder returns with a plan
You can stand, you are on your toes
Smiling, there are goosebumps
Floating down
Your arms, you are alive
You are well, you will

Fresh and charming, that wise owl
Swoops down from her perch
With a wondrous flutter of wings
And feathers, she nods
To the girl, you nod
Back, knowing
Your hand pressed, softly
To your beating heart
The owl is leaving
And won’t be
By: Carrie Browne
I am new to this beautiful outlet of poetry. I stay home with my two wild boys and enjoy spending time in the outdoors when ever I get the chance. You can view more of my writing and photographs at The Shady Tree The Shady Tree


A Teacher Can Be a Peacemaker



Dear teacher,

Peace is the key to vitality in any school community

Where there is the potential for conflicts and hostility

Detecting dormant volcanoes is an urgent necessity

Alas, schools can’t afford experts. What a bitter reality!

Thank God you are there! You are a precious commodity


Dear teacher,

A person in your position is gifted with true intuition

You are adept at dealing with colleagues and children

You have a talent for social interactions and persuasion

And classroom management is your forte and inclination

Never doubt your flair for conflict resolution and prevention


Dear teacher,

Be an example of duty and common goal devotion

Be a model of self-control and emotional regulation

Manage your clashing interests through negotiation

Assess options to reach mutually suitable solutions

Build co-operative and supportive working relations


Dear teacher,

Another positive problem solving strategy is mediation

Have disputing parties talk and exchange information

Let them reflect on what they feel about the situation

Forget about blame; invite them to think of a solution

Remember, parents make kids; you make generations


© Chaouki M’kaddem

June 10th, 2014

“Toy Like Mornings”: – Promote Yourself


The thunder and lightning… promote Yourself

1234185039_slo-mo thunder

The thunder and lightning…
Flashes illuminating the dark of the night…
Rumbles of the thunder shattering the solace of the darkness.
Eyes wide open, listening…
The rain and wind, the consistent roar…
I take it as a sign…
I see it as an omen…
Where I am at? 
Looking out into the blackness of night.
Seeing the flashes of blinding light…. The horizon so distant, so unattainable…
The rumble of thunder…
Drowning out my shouts of fear and doubt… 


Worry is the price we pay for something we may never own,
This is a truism we would do well to understand,
We have to be realistic about things over which we have no control,
For this is something on which our happiness could depend.
All of us at sometime get bogged down in the cares of life,
We all have matters which cause us real concern,
We should understand that worrying has no beneficial effect,
Constructive thinking is something that we must learn.
It has been said that “what will be will be”,
If we sit back we can be sure that this will be true,
But our fate will be determined by our actions,
In other words our future depends upon what we are prepared to do.
Do we really think that our fate is pre-ordained,
That we cannot influence our future in any way,
There is one thing of which we can be certain,
Our life is influenced by everything we do and say.
There are of course some things over which we have no control,
Which means that we cannot affect them in any way at all,
About such things there is no point in worrying,
If they do happen we shall either stand or fall.
Positive thinking is one of the keys to happiness,
Preparedness to face the future is another important key,
Negative thinking can never provide a solution,
To the problems to be faced by you and me.
These can only be solved when we are prepared to face them,
Prepared to meet our future with an air of confidence,
If at the end of the day it ends in failure,
We can be sure that worrying would have made no difference.
Ron Martin
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