humanity

encouragement and kinship; life’s gifts


passing; mortality’s reminder


laughter foretime, subsequent silence


heart-strung connections, now memories


warm reminiscing; cold light of day

Recurring dream

Spanning decades, fear’s icy ectoplasm shocks my heart. Destination scene’s known as lucid dream materialises, only the route varies.

Deep within a dwelling, an unobtrusive timber shuttered room. A postern door opens to an unremarkable tree crammed yard. Overgrown spiky, entangled stems, ramble. Daylight barely penetrates the gloom. A sodden carpet of mildewed leaves, twigs and decay smother the ground.

Heady damp earth scent permeates my being as unseen hands claw, scrape, shovel, revealing a petrified hatch.

Dark downward sloping subterranean passage snakes forks, twists. Roughly hewn stone echoes footsteps, breath, rustle of clothing. Stepfather’s flaccid luminescent presence lumbers alongside.

Ever further trudging through the sordid depths. Always aware of being followed, no sight nor sound. At last, cavernous space reveals an ovoid mound. Knowing it’s secret, I turn to leave the cadaver, never will she make thirteen.

If I am not guilty of wrongdoing, why the anxiety of being found out?

Reflecting while writing; perhaps this is the resting place of my innocence and suppressed femininity.

Spiky darkness

Bored dismissive scrolling.
Seditious libel pollutes.
Venomous assumptions flash.
Searing discontent morphs into
Dank depression to distort reality.

Ego aimlessly destructing self
In malicious derision.
Rank regret rots,
Withering to hopelessness.
Despair pervades, to numbness.

Listless countenance portrays
Unreadable amassed barriers.
A carcass weighed down with
Stubborn contrition, shame, guilt,
Misguided pride; inner derision.
Short lived thoughts of rebellion
Come to naught.

Those people

My earliest memory of dining out was in a cafe in West Bromwich, UK. The treat ended with my younger brother by three years having a tantrum; screaming and kicking on the floor surrounded by chips.

My addiction to going out to eat formed while undertaking hospitality studies in Worcester and Blackpool, 1980 to 1984. Overseas travel broadened my appreciation of fabulously foreign cuisines.

As a food service employee, I would groan internally about the guests who refused to leave, so that I could clear up and head home to bed.

My husband and I have become those people who literally spend hours chatting and supping over meals in eateries. The latest trend is starting with late lunch and continuing on to dinner. All the better when Stan is able to accompany us. He enjoys the attention from the staff, greeting them like old friends.

Our current favourites for double dining are Marinara Ristorante Cafe, Hawthorne and Patina at Customs House, Brisbane. Starting earlier ensures our departure well before the end of the evening.

Finding one’s purpose

In my early fifties, I spent years in dismal dismay, scratching around in search of my purpose. Prior to this, I seemed to be caught in the blissful raptural ignorance of youth.

Being fortunate to have a supportive line manager, I took full advantage of personality testing and coaching. Even though the purpose remained elusive, calls to the Universe for insight and inspiration were released.

Significant changes to career, house, and home state proved to be the catalyst of self realisation. The act of job seeking necessitated repetitive review, refinement, and honing of one’s resumé, cover letter, and application. This led to a need to identify the goals of the 30 plus roles, performed to date. The list was prioritised and filtered according to length of tenure. This drew together and consolidated many threads, distilling them into a single purpose.

The result, service to others. I do this by engaging problem solving, creativity, authenticity, and time management skills.

Being present

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A moment forward
Hasn’t happened yet
A moment backwards
May as well forget

Light advances
Darkness recedes
Takes life’s chances
He who succeeds

Living in the now
Releases my strife
Being strong somehow
By accepting life

(c) Robert Jones 2014, All Rights Reserved

Getting in the way

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I was on my way home last week, it was raining, the car I was travelling in was waiting for the traffic lights to change. I noticed the colourful melee of posters on this billboard. I like the way the rain drops on the window distorts the colours and image. I didn’t know if I should crop the picture to the left or right side of the pole. In the end I decided life is about negotiating obstacles in our path so I left it in to remind me.

What do you think?