Monthly Archives: January 2016

Heat Waves

Wave after wave in an endless cascade,

Starts to ease but can never quite fade.

A wave that washes over you day after day,

There’s nothing you can do and nothing to say.

You watch the reports but they tend to lie,

You even start, to stop trusting the sky.


It’s heat waves that keep on making you cry,

Wishing for cool is liking wishing you could fly.

Cleaning 2

Tomorrow I will clean my room,

Wash the windows and vaccume.

Pick up clothes to hang and fold,

Cleaning up makes me feel bold.

Dusting books, and sorting them,

By the authors name again.

Clearing off all the flat surfaces,

There will be more open spaces.

Get rid of things I shouldn’t keep,

Leave room to walk, work and sleep.


The Possum (Exergesis)

The Possum is a story that almost wrote itself. I didn’t really know what I was writing until I started. It was a story that started with the writing instead of the idea. I began with the first sentence and that led me to the next idea. As I started to write I pictured the place in my head and although I did not include in the story all the details of the place, I chose some and they became the story. The place had a life of its own once I let myself imagine it.

The idea of an underground house is something that interests me and has interested me ever since I heard about it years ago. In Coober Pedy (in the Australian outback) there are people liveing in ‘dugouts’ old mines that have been converted into modern homes. The temperatures outside can be extreme but the underground home stay at a comfortable temperature. The story is not based there but the idea of the underground home came from hearing about this.


The Possum (Short Story)

It’s dark and cold but that’s how I like it. It makes me feel safe to be able to snuggle up in blankets. I want to stay like that and never come out. I like the feel of cold air on my face, not so cold it makes my lungs hurt but cold enough to make my nose cold to the touch. I had always wanted to live underground. It means light doesn’t wake me up in the morning. I don’t have to wait for the sun to go down to go to bed. I can have my own schedule. Well it should depend on work too but I work from home so it doesn’t matter.

I stretch and reluctantly crawl out of bed. It’s tempting to stay there all day but I need to get up and put the shade cloths up over my garden. It’s going to be hot and I can’t let the sun fry everything. I pull on shorts and a t-shirt and step into thongs. Outside it’s already starting to heat up even though the suns barely up. I turn on the pump at the tap and connect the sprinklers. I let it run while I tie up the shade cloths. I check the tomatoes and beans and pick the handful of ripe ones. There is a snail on my cauliflower. I pick it up, drop it and stand on it. It makes a satisfying squelchy crunch. I turn off the water and go back inside.

The possum sits staring at me with wide frightened eyes. It’s the size of a big rat, it’s definitely a ringtail. I should have known better than to leave the door open even for that short time. I walk towards it slowly. I get within a meter of it before it bolts. It dashes around my house knocking books, glasses, paper, pictures and stationary onto the floor as it crosses the bench. I quickly shut the door that leads to the hallway connecting to the rest of my house. Now it is at least contained in one room. I open the door that leads outside. I try to chase it towards the door but it has other ideas. It’s on my bookshelf now knocking more books and pictures onto the floor. I make another grab for it but again it evades me.

I stop chasing it. It crams itself into the space above the books on the top shelf and sits staring down at me. I get the stool and place it in front of the shelves. Then I get a cardboard box and a wooden spoon and hop up on the stool. I manage to get it into the box with only a little prodding from the spoon. Then I quickly shut the box, hop down from the stool and carry it outside. I shut the door behind me before opening the box. The possum jumps out and runs up the nearest tree vanishing from sight.

I go back inside letting out a sigh of relief. The temporary chaos and excitement that invaded my house was gone. I could relax again.

This is a fictional short story. Here is the exergesis.


Words that are so interesting and new,

They make stories come out of the blue.

Words that whisper things in your ear,

You don’t understand yet what you hear.

You taste them on you tong let them roll,

And slowly fall from your lips and toll.

Words you’ve never heard before now,

Their power leaves you wondering how.

How could you have done without them before,

These words leave you wanting to learn more.

New words that make things more succinct,

They can now be used with your instinct.



I feel the need to write, come like a hunger,

Then pick up a pen but then it is no longer

There. The words they have all gone away,

I chace them, wanting for them to stay.


Then other times I feel no need to write at all,

But feel the obligation and the words just fall,

Right out of the end of my pen or from finger tips,

But creative words rarely fall from these lips.


Knowing when to write is impossible for some,

Easier for others, and to some does natural come,

It can flow free or be forced, onto the white pages,

Lasting only seconds or surviving through the ages.


I’m sick of all these feelings

Their stange confusing meanings,

Wishing fun was simple again,

And I could just pick up a pen.


But things change, don’t they,

Unexpected feelings make you pay,

Feelings you can’t, make go away,

Moments in which you wish you could stay.


Wishing you didn’t have to feel,

Wishing for, a heart of steel,

Simultaneously, not feeling enough,

Maybe you shouldn’t be so tough.


Leaving is hard when you know,

You have got nothing to show,

Nothing to remember the moment by,

Except the stars, in the night sky.

Blog Goals 2016

  1. In 2015 I had 2190 views, 858 visitors and 178 posts. I want to have more views (2500), more visitors (900) and most of all more posts (200).

2. In 2015 I posted 1 short story on this blog. I want to publish 12 short stories on this blog that I have written this year.

3. In 2015 I posted 27 poems on this blog. I want to post at leat 40 this year.

4. I want to read more blogs and discover more blogs I like.




Confusion is all part of growing,

It comes from now knowing,

That you don’t fit in the boxes.


Some of the boxes are inflexible,

They make you uncomfortable,

But some have a bit of give.


The boxes, are inescapable,

Though some are very unstable,

And new ones can be made.


So don’t give up, be brave,

Find ones you’d like to save,

Or, make the new ones.


New Years Resolutions


Last year I wrote a post with some tips on how to keep new years resolutions. Here is the link to New Years Resolutions and How to Keep Them. I don’t really like New Years Resolutions. I like to set goals throughout the year. For example last year I wanted to post daily on this blog from December until March. I achieved this and more. I did stop blogging daily but I am still posting weekly or monthly. I am not going to try that in Jamuary I may try in some other month I’m just not home enough.

I did not achieve my resolution from last year. I wanted to write a 73, 000 word story. I did write a lot of short stories most of which I didn’t finish. I think I was a bit ambitious. I think I did write at least 73, 000 words in total which is something.

Although I didn’t achieve my main gaol I did achieve some other things in 2015. I got my probationay drivers licence. I got my C Grade Netball Umpiring Badge. I passed all my units at uni. I got a second job babysitting. I finished a couple of short stories not for uni. I lived by myself for two and a half weeks. I kept this blog going all year even if I didn’t post every day. These are just some of the achievements I proud of from 2015.

My resolustion for this year is to write twelve short stories of at least 500 words and post them on this blog. That sounds far less ambitious than last year. However writing is one thing writing stories that I am prepared to share is much harder. Also my schedule is much fuller than last year so I will have to work hard to make time to write.