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
Brian’s Reflections 