A few poems have jumped out at me recently. The first, an attempt to put a positive focus on life…
Digging Away
My writing makes me happy And singing makes me glad That I am a type of chappie Avoiding things that make him sad.
For seeking out the joy in life Should be a constant theme Side stepping all manner of strife Trying to make things gleam.
Some of the pain we can’t avoid Like if our loved ones suffer Or when whole cities are destroyed There is no real buffer.
But aspiring to see the light Is the answer, surely We can’t always cast out the night Or our thoughts cleanse truly.
We can, however, dig away To see if we can find A sparkling place in which to stay Somewhere that most are kind.
Down this path I prefer to go To explore where I might get Attempting to joyfulness sow Leaving behind regret.
Brian Matthews 7-6-26
The next one was written by a friend, Bernie Golab, about a railroad tragedy many years ago in the mid north of South Australia, and I think it is well worth sharing. Thanks Bernie…
A story 's told 'round Walloway Of that rainy, dark Spring night When fated lives were caused to meet Upon that darkened site
"Twas nineteen one, the old Ghan Line Just North of Orroroo The night was cold, the rails were wet Dark clouds were building too
Somewhere out there in the night Two trains were hauling freight Southbound, cattle, from Kidman's lot Northbound, with copper's weight
The cattle train, on downhill grade Was meant to stop and wait At Walloway loop and let to pass The heavy Northbound freight
Pennington and Eager found Their train not to report To braking on wet downhill rails They missed the siding's points
And the squeal of brakes that split the night Was the final clarion call For those engine-men who bravely fought To halt that dreadful maul
Haines and Brody, heading North. Had slowed to scan for lights Guessing they were nearby to That Walloway passing site
The two trains met, three hundred yards South of the Walloway Over a bridge that crossed a creek That ran beside the road
And through this mess, One showed his best McCaulay was his name To risk his life and limb to save Jack Brody from his train
Pennington and Haines were hurt Sam Eager met his end Found with hands still on the brake Still trying to save his friends
And the squeal of brakes, that split the night Was the final clarion call For those engine-men who bravely fought To halt this dreadful maul
Brodie died a short time on His leg they couldn't save He left a new bride, sad at home A' weeping at his grave
And now at night, in cold and wet Upon that lonely plain You may still yet hear, the squeal and clash Of two colliding trains
A lonely plaque does now denote The place of this affray Do take the time, to stop and think The crash at Walloway
And the squeal of brakes that split the night And that final clarion call And those engine-men who bravely fought To halt that dreadful maul.
The next poem was inspired by that vessel of hate, Pauline Hanson, who gathers support from the disaffected in the Australian community and the obvious and hidden racists by bemoaning the loss of something we never had in this country, a monoculture…
The Monoculture
To be most comfortable Within your own culture It is for many understandable To stand at this juncture.
But to malign the ways of others To damn that which is different Denying that we are all brothers And sisters regardless of our pigment.
That is a pathway to hate Creating unnecessary division As such features they rate And variety attracts derision.
“I’m not racist” they might say And yet the intolerance is clear Denying others their day As communities apart they shear.
Comfortable only in their bubble Eschewing the other Claiming it’s them causing trouble Their own culture, of course, never a bother.
Brian Matthews 23-6-26
The next was an attempt to unravel my feelings about the near future as we plan for the next stage in life…
Unpredictability
A busy time now Getting ready for another trip Making sure all is in order It’s so hard being a hoarder.
And soon off again we’ll go To far off places and back again So we can pack for our sabbatical Taking all that is practical.
Wondering how this will turn out A pleasant interlude maybe Or a long hard grind? This we shall soon find.
But some of the best things in life Are the many surprises Your mind planning carefully Events scattering these ruthlessly.
So what will happen is always unknown No surety can we determine All the plans will morph and change As our lives we rearrange.
Brian Matthews 15-7-26
And then, my darling stepdaughter lost her father and had to set off overseas to organise his funeral and settle his affairs…
Sorting Out
Someone passing leaves a gap Particularly for those closest But we know we all have to go When and where not usually a choice.
The tangle we leave behind Can vary in size and complexity Loved ones often struggling To tidy a life’s detritus.
The grief is always there Intensity also a variable matter But even when a flawed relationship Feelings can be overwhelming.
Soldiering on the only way Charging ahead with the sorting out Dealing with the ups and downs Refusing to cave in to despair.
No matter the obstacles An end will come All will be finalised Breathing will become easier.
Brian Matthews 18-7-26
And, finally for this post, today is the 15th birthday of the elder of our two dogs, Riley, a Havanese cross who absolutely adores his Mum, and tolerates me. He is a lovely little fellow…
Maybe it’s the onslaught of Winter in southern Australia keeping me inside and on my devices, or maybe it’s a clearer goal and challenge for the future but, regardless, a few more poems have sprung out…
The first three poems came from a suggestion from a friend that I submit poems for a local competition aimed at children. I rarely write with such a young audience in mind, though my grandchildren have had to suffer my offerings on their birthdays over the years. After a little thought, these poems presented themselves…
Stuff to Do
The sun rises Over the hill You jump out of bed To do whatever you will.
But Mum and Dad disagree Saying you must do your jobs first While outside the sun shines And for play and fun you thirst.
But deep down you do know That Mum and Dad mean well And that everyone has their stuff to do Or the whole world will go to hell.
Littler Ones
A little brother or sister can be such a pain Following you around even in the rain But when they look at you with eyes so big You’re happy with them in the sandpit to dig.
Or chase them around in the park Playing and playing until it’s dark At times it is very nice, though To have moments when alone you go.
Balance is a word I value A bit of this and that to see you through If the same things happen again and again It would be so easy to go insane.
So, mainly, the younger ones I’ll tolerate Until, on my nerves they start to grate And then I will turn to them saying For time to myself I am praying.
Getting Attention
The world can be so big and scary We’re taught of strangers to be wary But most people are very kind And us kids’ noise they don’t mind.
But in some places we need to be quiet Be calm and still, not start a riot Hospitals are one such place And in a library we don’t have a race.
But there are many places we can shout Even when lots of people are about On the school oval in our breaks Or in a paddock when we see snakes.
It’s hard for kids to learn all the rules And polishing these up like little jewels But trying to do this we all must So adults know that us we can trust.
And that when a loud noise we make They should then notice take For, at times, we need an adult hand To help us on firm ground stand.
Brian Matthews 29-5-26
On reflection, and with the cold continuing to discourage outdoor activities, I decided to submit a short story targetted at children…
The Middle One
Being the middle one in the family is no fun. My older sister, Charlotte (we call her Charlie but she doesn’t like that anymore so I only use it when I’m cross with her) is 13 (going on 20 my Mum says) and my younger brother Nigel is 6 and he’s an absolute pain in the butt but I get into big trouble for saying that. My name is Angus (I prefer Gus) and I’m 10 years old. My Dad’s name is Peter and he’s real old (40) and my Mum (Jane) is a bit younger (38).
We live in a country town south of Adelaide and all go to the local area school. Life is good for me, on the whole, but I really hate being the middle one in the family. Charlotte treats me like a baby and is always complaining to Mum and Dad about me. I do listen in to her and her friends’ conversations and use what I hear as ammunition in arguments with her and she’s always telling me to leave her alone and get out of her room which is not really fair since she barges into my room whenever she wants. Pain in the butt, Nigel, is always following me around and asking me to play with him, especially when I have friends around.
As I said, my life is pretty good. I play footy and cricket with my mates whenever I get the chance and spend hours on my bike riding around our neighbourhood, down to the creek or the beach and up and down some spectacular hills we have around here. I don’t get as much screen time as I’d like as Mum and Dad say it’ll “rot our brains” but I notice that both of them are often on WhatsApp or Facebook, you know, old timers’ social media. I love to watch YouTube clips of accidents and funny things that other kids do. I love playing on my mate’s Nintendo and am saving up for my own but it’s taking forever.
Anyway, what I really want to write about is how horrible it is being the middle one in the family. Some of my mates have three or four kids in their families but most, these days, are only one or two. When I’ve listened in to adult conversations I hear them say things like “it’s too expensive to have more than two kids” and I guess it is but, to be honest, I’m not all that clear on how much kids cost. I do know that being in the middle of the family is not much fun sometimes. I’m always being told to give my sister privacy or to “play nicely” with Nigel. It just isn’t fair. I never hear my parents say to others in the family “give Gus his privacy” or “play nicely with Gus”. I feel like “Piggy in the middle”.
It might be alright if some of my mates were more understanding when I complained about this but most of them just say that everyone has problems with their brothers or sisters. Why does nobody seem to understand me? One of my teachers has been quite good about this (Mrs. Andrews). She noticed that I was very down one day after my Dad had grumped at me for not looking after Nigel when he tripped over in the playground and I was supposed to be minding him. It was nice that she seemed to understand. She said she was from a big family and that she felt that the “middle kids” did miss out a bit but she told me that this gets better the older you get so I can’t wait to get older.
On the weekend, Charlotte had three friends over for a sleepover. What a nightmare that was! All that giggling and whispering and THE SINGING!! K-pop and 5SOS, such rubbish. And the makeup and hair and Charlotte just screamed at me when I went to see what all the racket was about. I can’t wait until I have some mates over and we can pay her back. And, because she had friends over, I had to keep Nigel occupied and away from them. I am so sick of playing Hungry Hippo and building Lego – I’m way too old for that stuff, though some of my mates are still into Lego.
At tea time on Saturday it all blew up. The girls were up one end of the table talking and giggling and I could tell they were making fun of me or, if not, it seemed like it. I asked them (politely I thought) to stop making fun of me and Dad told me I was being rude and that I should leave the table and think about my behaviour. We hadn’t even finished and Mum had made Nana’s special bread and butter pudding as a treat since the girls were visiting. Well, I just lost it and Mum and Dad got so cross at me that I just ran outside, hopped on my bike and rode away. I knew it was the wrong thing to do as it was getting dark and my bike doesn’t have lights but I could see well enough and off I went. I rode up a big hill at the end of our street without even stopping to rest, I was so angry.
And I shouted and shouted and eventually burst into tears (but don’t tell my mates that). I knew that I would be in trouble for going out without permission and for being rude at the table but I just didn’t care. I rode a long way before I stopped to rest. It was fully dark by then and the moon had not come up. I was thirsty and tired and my throat hurt from all of the shouting but I didn’t want to go home because I knew I’d be in trouble and that I’d have to apologise and there’d be some punishment. But, I was so miserable that I just didn’t care.
I knew that there was a park nearby where I could get a drink and so I rode there and had a big drink from a tap. After I cooled down from all of the riding I realised just how cold it was getting (it was early winter) and wondered how I was going to warm up as I had left in jeans and a t-shirt as it had been warm in the house. I just sat in the park sobbing.
I don’t know how long I sat there but it must have been quite a while because I was now very cold and the moon had come up. Luckily, it was almost a full moon and so I could see most things in the park, even away from the lighting near the amenities block. But I was surprised by many of the shapes that I could see in the darker parts of the park and some of them were moving. I told myself these must be kangaroos but some of the shapes looked super scary and there were many sounds that I couldn’t recognise. I became more and more scared and wished that I hadn’t got so mad and biked away from home.
While I was sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree, I noticed the headlights of a car coming down the road that went past the park. As the car got closer I realised it was my Dad’s Triton ute (he’s a plumber and has the usual tradie setup on the back so it was easy to recognise him). My first thought was to ride away and hide but he would have seen me and it wouldn’t have taken him much to catch up. I was tired and exhausted and so I stood up and walked toward him. I was surprised that he had found me so easily.
Dad got out of his ute and, after making a brief phone call, came toward me. I was not looking forward to this at all. “Gus, is that you?” he said. His tone was even and he did not sound as furious as I expected. “How did you find me?” I asked and he told me that one of our neighbours, Mr Douglas, had seen me bolting up the street without lights and had rung Dad to tell him. That’s the thing about small country towns, whatever you do someone is watching. From that phone call Dad figured out the direction I was going in and thought he’d check out the park. “When I was a kid and ran away from home, I’d always go to a nearby park” he said. I was gobsmacked. “You ran away from home when you were a kid” I said. He told me that he did and that many kids run away from home when they’re upset.
He went on to tell me that, while he wasn’t a middle kid in his family, he did fight with his sister and, at times, would get so upset that he would run away. I couldn’t believe it. My aunt Michelle is a lovely person who never has a bad thing to say about anyone. Dad laughed when I told him that and told me a number of stories about things they had fought about. He even told me that when he was studying for exams in high school, his sister had been playing her transistor radio in her room and he had got so mad that he grabbed it from her and threw it on the floor. He had to explain to me what a transistor radio was as I’d never seen or heard of this before. Apparently, this was a bit of old technology that had originally belonged to his Mum (Nana) and his sister had found it and became quite attached to it for a while.
I told Dad that I was sorry for getting so angry and riding off and he gave me a big hug and explained to me that everyone gets angry sometimes and that it is easy to feel that you are the only who has some problems. He suggested to me that I talk about this some more to my friends so that I could find out more about the things that upset them in their families. Luckily, he had a nice warm blanket in the back of the dual cab ute and he wrapped me in this and put my bike in the back of the ute and drove me home.
I was most surprised when I got home and the whole family and the girls from the sleepover came outside to greet me. Even more surprising was that Charlotte ran up to me, threw her arms around me, hugged me strongly (how embarrassing) and the girls all crowded around and told me they were sorry they had upset me and explained that they had been whispering about a boy at school they all liked and it was nothing to do with me. Mum then wrapped me in a huge hug and told me it was lucky Dad found me because they’d saved me some bread and butter pudding. I was stoked and couldn’t believe how well it had turned out. Nigel even wrapped his arms around me and told me how brave I was to go such a long way alone in the dark. Of course, I didn’t get away absolutely free of any punishment. Dad and Mum asked me what punishment I thought I deserved and I thought about it for a minute and then suggested that I apologise to everyone and I wipe up the dishes for a week. They agreed that this was fair enough and it was all sorted.
I learned some important lessons that day. Firstly, that no matter how alone you feel about what is happening in your life, other people are probably having or have had similar experiences (who would have thought my Dad fought with Aunt Michelle?) and, secondly, it’s best to say how you’re feeling rather than “spitting the dummy” and running away. My sister and brother still bother me sometimes but I really try to take it in my stride, and either put up with it or say how I’m feeling.
Brian Matthews 29-5-26
And then one of my musical friends shared a meme on Facebook that bemoaned the costs for musicians who agree to do free musical performances for fundraisers and community events and this poem stuck its head out…
Fair Recompense
It is so true These words I read That the arts and music Things that we all need Earn for most artists So little on which they can feed.
Of course, writing, drawing, playing and singing Feed the artists’ sense of being But without the wherewithal to live Leaves most of them agreeing That this is how it’s always been As from poverty they’re fleeing.
While there are some who do fortune achieve And adulation from all around It is so rare that we do see A talented artist thus crowned. Even those who make a decent living From art or music are rarely found.
While many who contribute so little Earn mountains of cash and more Manipulating goods and markets Selling all those weapons of war While babies starve and people weep The cost of Capitalism is way too steep.
I dream of a time when resources are pooled So that all may benefit and be free Of the need to work at meaningless tasks And each be enabled to their potential see As we pursue our creative urges So productive we would all be.
Brian Matthews 2-6-26
Another Facebook Friend posted about the impact of cancer on individuals and their loved ones, something that has impacted many of us…
The Well of Grief
Disappearing into the well of grief A common response to loss As one day comes the thief To on the scrap heap our loved one toss.
Down we spiral with every day Remembering that beloved face The things they’d do and what they’d say As toward some resolution we race.
But no solution does appear No switch to click to change it all As we stand and face our fear And on friends and family we do call.
For grief is something best not faced alone As through the mire we do swim And death is something we must condone Though love for our lost one does never dim.
Brian Matthews 4-6-26
And, finally for this long post, a friend had said to me that, as I write poetry, why not have a go at writing songs and I decided to give that a try and have included my recording of the words I wrote (my apologies, sounds like a bit of a dirge)…
One big toy
This song I sing is not for you I sing because I am not blue I sing for all who life enjoy Treating the world like one big toy.
Yes, treating life like one big toy! Asking others to enjoy… So, I go through every day Seeking out where I can play…
This does not mean pain I deny Instead for hopefulness I try Exploring the world for what I can see Each tiny bird and massive tree.
Yes, treating life like one big toy! Asking others to enjoy… So, I go through every day Seeking out where I can play…
Life passes by so quickly now The sweat I wipe from my brow People meet and hug each other Treating all like their brother.
Yes, treating life like one big toy! Asking others to enjoy… So, I go through every day Seeking out where I can play…
So, on this quest I shall go Even though I’m sometimes slow Haters and critics I’ll ignore As my defences up I’ll shore.
Yes, treating life like one big toy! Asking others to enjoy… So, I go through every day Seeking out where I can play…
From this position I won’t resile Though at times I’ll take a while To through the mire plod and wade Until my happiness is displayed…
Yes, treating life like one big toy! Asking others to enjoy… So, I go through every day Seeking out where I can play…
Brian Matthews 4-6-26
A first song writing attemptThe jetty at Normanville, South Australia, during some of our recent wild weather
I have visited the Flinders Ranges in the north of South Australia many times over the last 58 or so years. There is something about the scenery, the flora and fauna that has entrapped many artists, photographers and, this case a poet of sorts.
Currently, I am spending a second five day stint in a lovely, friendly caravan park in an almost dead town called Carrieton. The caravan park is sited in the old Carrieton Primary School with lovely views of the Flinders Ranges.
Photo taken by my wife Barbara, a lone sunflower facing the sunrise over the lower Flinders Ranges near Carrieton
The first of my poems in this post are from prior to this trip, a number of months when my creative urges were infrequent as evidenced by the first poem…
The Gap
Half of February gone And not one poem has appeared The creative sun has not on me shone No pithy phrases have their heads reared.
It is like this at times Huge gaps in my writing Nowhere can I find the rhymes And my free form just wilting.
One of the issues is, I think That little that I have to say Appears important, my words they stink Even those that are meant as play.
Remind myself I need to do That my poems help me process Thoughts that my synapses chew So that my feelings I don’t repress.
There you have it, a poem done Even if the quality is a little lacking My emotions don’t feel so alone Once my brain I’ve finished hacking.
Brian Matthews 15-2-26
Unfortunately, this did not unblock my creative urges but early in April I wanted to write something for my beloved stepdaughter Ashlea who has been very supportive of my poetry and has encouraged me to share it with others…
Ashlea’s Fortieth
Forty years ago today, A little baby girl was born, Such a tiny creature then, The mantle of motherhood now worn.
Though not all of that time Did I know you, I saw you from a little girl, Into the dynamic woman you grew.
Your positive attributes abound, Compassion and empathy to the fore, Kindness and consideration as well, Honesty and truthfulness form your core.
I am so grateful to have you, Making my life so much better, Wondering what it would be like, To experience this richness never.
Thank you for all you do, For your family and beyond. May your day be joyful, And filled with things of which you’re fond.
Brian Matthews 3-4-26
Ashlea with her Mum, Barbara and kids, Jack and Ava
And, later in the month, a dear friend for 50 years offered his (and his lovely wife’s) help in overcoming a short term financial hurdle, an act for which I will be forever grateful…
Generosity
The generosity of a friend is humbling Offering a loan when no other choice appears Minimising the act itself Making me feel so valued.
Financial challenges often appear But lately there is little respite From costs that inevitably arise And those caused by a ‘Vanity War’.
Common aphorisms abound ‘A friend in need is a friend indeed’ ‘Neither a borrower nor a lender be’ True friendship cuts through these.
Brian Matthews 22-4-26
And April brought another offering that developed out of gardening and the dawn walks my wife loves and a month of early morning swims…
The Senses
The smell of a frangipani flower The pink flush of the dawn Assailed by our senses’ power Against complacency it does warn.
So rich our lives can be If only to these inputs we attend Setting our minds free Allowing our hearts to mend.
Becoming bogged down by thoughts and fear Does not allow our spirit to grow But keeping sensory experiences near Helps our inner self show.
Focussing on the here and now Not on the past or future Will help us figure out how The wounds acquired we can suture.
Brian Matthews 25-4-26
But, of course, I don’t always follow my own advice and let the little things get to me. A poem written helps…
Stressing Out
The stress builds Waiting for a scheduled phone call No surprise that it hasn’t come.
Needing to get on with my day But nothing is going my way I feel like a pressure cooker.
Marking time until the relief valve blows Feeling my blood pressure rise Knowing that stressing doesn’t help.
My stomach churns My vision blurs Life can be such a bastard.
Knowing that tomorrow I may laugh At what a knot I got myself in It will all be okay.
Writing this helps a little Purposely taking the longer view Avoiding the minor irritants.
Being aware that some people have real stress Not these first world problems Everywhere people suffer.
Worrying about where the next meal comes from Keeping a roof over their family’s head Survival itself can be a challenge.
And I allow myself to worry About issues that will be resolved I must remember, this too shall pass.
Brian Matthews 28-4-26
And then May brought a holiday to the Flinders Ranges and Yorke Peninsula (Tumby Bay). For reasons unknown to me, while Tumby Bay was lovely and relaxing with early morning walks and catching up with friends, no poetry emerged but a few sprung forth in the Flinders Ranges and a brief offering on my eldest granddaughter’s birthday…
Tumby Bay at sunset
Nature’s Offerings
Flies can be such a pest Making it difficult to have a short rest Those little ones getting in your eyes Up your nose and ears another prize.
The beauty of our states north Brooding ranges sallying forth Creek beds cutting through the land Usually with trees under which to stand.
The moon so full in the night Glittering stars until the light A vast country in which we live So rarely do we thanks for this give.
Blinded by our obsession with things Ignoring what, each day, nature brings But each day some time can be found To simply go outside and look around.
Brian Matthews 4-5-26
I planned to write something about flies, but it went a bit sideways
Alexa’s 16
It seems like yesterday When those wide curious eyes Tried to make sense of this world.
But many years have passed And you have grown so tall A young woman now.
May you have a life of joy Climb mountains that you choose Have a zest for living.
Love Pop Written 10-5-26 for 16-5-26
And, back in the Flinders Ranges, raucous white parrots called Corellas prompted my final poem for this post…
Ah, the Corellas
Such a noisy bunch Flitting here and there Looking for something to munch Or maybe some excitement here.
Few country towns have no flocks Breeding prolifically as they do Difficult to keep in their box As on the trees they chew.
In pairs they often sit Grooming one another Quiet and resting for a bit Until noisily they rise from cover.
Then so raucous for awhile Rising up in such a mass Swooping across another mile Settling again as bold as brass.
Nearing the end of our month and more in Hervey Bay, Queensland, and a few poems have emerged marking my thoughts about a range of events…
The first was prompted by an upbeat post on Facebook by a friend of over 30 years who humbles me by her resilience in the face of challenges that would leave many in despair. I recommend her books…
Facing the Future
A new year comes again Hopeful that from violence all will refrain
And yet we are familiar with the statistics The death of women and so many by ballistics.
It is hard to see the glass half full Though that is such a useful tool.
But try to do this I exhort A life lesson too seldom taught.
But oft discovered amongst the mire A trait that I, for one, admire.
Wade through the dense foliage I will Thanking those who encourage me still.
By the way they meet their hassles Building such incredible castles.
Surround yourself with people like this It’s probably the best way to find your bliss.
Brian Matthews 2-1-26
Dedicated to my friend Jacy Arthur The ‘Glass Half Full’ trait personified
The next was to mark the 40th birthday of my youngest son, Ben…
A Significant Birthday
A significant birthday comes The 40th of the youngest of my sons.
I hope the day brings happiness, Ben And brings to you all that you yen.
But whatever it is that you do I hope you can avoid feeling blue.
Reflect on all that you are grateful for As into life your energy you pour.
And plan ahead for things you desire Avoiding wading through the mire.
Take those paths likely to lead to joy About your happiness don’t be coy.
Embrace your life as though it has no end To you and your family, my love I send.
Brian Matthews 3-1-26 For Ben’s 40th on January 4th
The next poem was also prompted by a friend’s Facebook post …
My Brother
A post from a friend Missing his brother How often this happens The emotions of another Cascade through your mind Until peace again you find.
For my brother is not gone While he lives in our memories His soul flitting around On the breeze in the trees His smile and his chuckle Ensuring to struggles we don’t buckle.
Brian Matthews 12-1-26
I usually avoid commenting on Australia Day, January 26th, due to the controversy about its origins and the lack of respect that choosing this as a date to celebrate being Australian demonstrates to our First Nation’s People. Better, in my opinion to move it to January 31st, a date we could all celebrate…
Some of Us
The stories are now told Of the massacres of old.
People who on this land had been Long before by Europeans seen.
And yet, as children we did not hear Of the ravages that happened so near.
And the battles now rage on While our first Australians mourn their land gone.
Celebrate our nation for sure But do not the past obscure.
A huge debt yet to be paid Before lasting peace can finally be made.
Some of us have been left far behind And others say ‘pay it no mind’.
Most, I think, would like to move ahead The past being something they dread.
But until the truth is told and all revealed Will the wounds be treated and partially healed.
Until that day is finally here Let’s hope the nation’s tale is made clear.
Brian Matthews 25-1-26
Reflecting on ‘Australia Day’ 26th January after reading an article ‘The horrific January 26th you never learnt about’ by John Paul Janke in SBS news
It is difficult to ignore the orange man who the US people have put into power for the second time and it is pleasing to see so many US citizens taking a stand against his bully-boy tactics. But, for some, this has lethal consequences…
Another Life Lost
As the demented President charges on Enforcing his hate filled agenda Another of his citizens is shot Masked enforcers invading city streets.
Illegal US immigrants the supposed targets And yet legal citizens are slain Armed Federal agents descending A person dies in the turmoil.
The First Bully’s face appears Shouting his hate filled words Casting slurs on other Nations Assuming legitimacy where there is none.
Voices of reason can be heard Another Nation’s leader does step up Amongst the many dissenting voices But most, on these issues are demure.
For the Bully’s reach is far And the rich and powerful in his corner Reminiscent of times past Yet so many have forgotten.
Brian Matthews 25-1-26
Prompted by the shooting and killing of another US citizen during ICE (US Customs & Immigration Enforcement) raids in Minnesota
But, to end on a more positive note, a poem for our 26th Wedding Anniversary. Where have the last 30 years gone?…
Celebrating our 26th Wedding Anniversary
Another important date arrives Time to celebrate another year gone As our marriage still thrives Welcoming yet another dawn.
A year of little change But I hope not too many regrets Though across the country we did range With us, of course, came our pets.
A Christmas spent far away In a very pleasant place A different holiday season I’ll say Each day very easy to face.
I look forward to many more years with you Whether at home or far away In good spirits or when you’re blue By your side I plan to stay.
So, have a happy anniversary my dear Enjoy the day and what we do Knowing that I love having you near And to you I’ll stick like glue.
Brian Matthews 28-1-26
Written for our 26th Wedding Anniversary on the 29th
Sunrise on 29th January 2026 in Hervey Bay, Queensland Australia My wife Barbara with her ‘boys’, Riley (almost 16 year old, Havanese cross) and Basil (almost 14 year old, Boston Terrier cross)
No poems written in November but December provided a few prompts:
Firstly, a poem for one of my ten grandchildren –
A Birthday Poem
Another birthday comes around A year coming for joy to be found More exciting things to discover Enjoyable times with your brother.
And now entering into your teens Bristling with energy, full of beans We hope the coming year brings fun Whether inside or in the sun.
Weaving your way through this life Avoiding all manner of strife Taking it all in your way Making sure you have your say.
But knowing that in the end All around you family send Their love and support So any battles can be fought.
Happy 13th birthday Ryder Love, Pop & Barbara
Brian Matthews 11-12-25
And, while at first I refrained from contributing to the flood of words prompted by the appalling massacre at Bondi, I found that thoughts banged around in my head relentlessly, and I needed to express these –
Bondi Reshaped
I’m lost for words! Well, obviously not!
But how to talk of this? Of course, comfort words flow.
So many badly wounded An unbelievable death count.
The politicians strut More so those not in power.
The tributes mount So many deeply affected.
The funerals begin The tears are shed.
Remonstrations as always Begin and build wilder.
Most are just appalled At the acts of hate.
For the families we weep With a sense of powerlessness.
We are all changed by this. Nobody can benefit.
But the wounds run deep Many, never to be healed.
Brian Matthews 19-12-25
Soon after, a brief Christmas poem emerged –
Christmas Away
A quiet Christmas this year Very few family near.
Likewise far from most friends In the new year we’ll make amends.
Christmas is often quiet, though, for us While many others make a big fuss.
A sumptuous meal on Christmas eve So missing out we do not grieve.
A few games we’ll probably play While with my wife’s uncle we stay.
But to friends and family best wishes I declare Assuring them we really care.
Brian Matthews 25-12-25
Followed by reflections on a lazy time –
The Day Drifts On
The gentle sounds of the day Whirring of a hedge trimmer Lilting songs of different birds.
A lazy time in holiday season Plenty of jobs possible But no need to do any.
Apart from routine work Washing a few dishes Cleaning some floors.
The old dog snores At peace on the couch Not a worry in the world.
Though struggling with limited food An upset stomach the problem No idea of the cause.
The day drifts on A gentle breeze blows And warmth envelops us.
Brian’s Reflections 