Melbourne Cup Day

A quiet day at the cafe
Probably a Melbourne Cup effect 
So many at Clubs or Pubs
Wearing silly hats, I bet. 

Doesn’t have the following it had 
A national institution in years gone by
But times change and things move on
What was important now gives no high. 

A country changing for sure
More diversity than ever before 
And still old habits live on
Nurtured as if they are core. 

What the future holds is never clear
Demographics shift with every year
But one thing can be said again 
Love of country will remain. 

Brian Matthews 7-11-23

Another fine day
At this place called Coffin Bay -
Oysters for lunch? Yes!

Brian Matthews 7-11-23

A chopper above
An expensive tourist treat -
Worth the view, maybe 

Brian Matthews 7-11-23

And the poem revisited is one I wrote for my son Sam’s 37th birthday before we knew of his cancer. An undertone is of regretting the distance between us as a result of growing older – ironic, I thought, when I was soon to lose him completely.

It is revisited because there was a line that didn’t make sense – probably an autocorrect thing:

Sam’s 37

The birthday of a son,
No longer a child
And not so for many years,
Brings cause to pause
Reflect on what he’s become. 

A husband and father
Of two chips off the block
As are all little ones
Drawing on genetic memory
Aided by the experiences they gather. 

The curiosity of the child
Morphing into enthusiasm of youth
Facing the challenges of the day
Exploring and contributing 
Soon leaving behind the wild. 

A child never leaves the heart
Of a parent invested in
The happiness of their offspring 
Knowing not what the future brings
But sure that you will be apart. 

Life cannot be lived through children 
Or grandchildren for a fact
Evolve and develop they surely will
Moving in directions unseen 
With motivation from you hidden. 

Not because they rail against you,
Though that can be a thing
But more because they need agency,
Different hills and valleys to explore,
So they can have their novel view. 

Brian Matthews 
21/11/2020

So, yesterday drove from Port Broughton to Coffin Bay (5 and a half hours). Someone had told us about the wildlife in the Caravan Park but still surprised by the number of Roos in the evening and emus here and there plus a plethora of bird life and much bigger flocks of galahs than we get on the Fleurieu (no corellas here it seems). The galahs prompted this Haiku:

The galahs all cheep 
Such talkative little guys - 
Saying we are here!

Brian Matthews 5-11-23

So today and yesterday, I penned a few more.

Firstly, a couple of Haiku

The Crested Pigeons

The crested pigeons
Strutting here for all to see -
Always, one left  out

Brian Matthews, 1-11-23

The Little Dog

The little dog rests
Waiting to show all his best -
Oh, off he goes now!

Brian Matthews, 2-11-23

And then an ode to the little seaside village we are staying in:

Ups and Downs

Port Broughton, such a pleasant place
Bird calls and children laughing 
The sun is shining and the air is clear 
The only down side, too much wind. 

Though now it is not unpleasant 
Blowing but not gusting much,
Ah well, keeps the flies away
And so it always goes. 

Each venue has its strengths 
But nowhere has it all
And one positive may just mean
That another negative emerges. 

Perfection may be sought 
But reality always intrudes
And generally this we accept 
Though memory may blur the unwanted. 

Brian Matthews, 1-11-23

I read the word ‘perspicacious’ in a novel and thought how relevant this word is to Barbara, my wife – captures her essence

Perspicacious

Perspicacious, a word that so describes you
The way you see the world 
Insights leaping forth
Ideas unfolding zestfully. 

A canniness that’s unusual 
Astute perceptions of the terrain
Sharp-witted beyond the norm 
Perceiving patterns usually unseen. 

Brian Matthews, 2-11-23

While uploading new stuff, here are a couple of birthday poems I wrote. The first for my lovely wife, Barbara, written the day before her birthday:

Happy Birthday Barbara 

Happy Birthday I say to you
With all the love that’s to you due. 

For all the little things you do
And all the big ones too. 

I’m grateful to share your life
So thankful that you’re my wife. 

Looking forward to what’s to come
Sure that there’ll be some fun. 

Hoping you have a lovely day
And that joy will with you stay. 

Toward this end I’ll do all I can
To remain, forever, your loving man. 

Brian Matthews 28-10-23

And the second for my Sister, Margy

My Sister’s Birthday 

On special occasions it’s nice to talk
One topic morphing into another 
Sharing news about our families 
Reminding each other about the little things. 

Each of the snippets weave a web
Connecting each to the other
Tales of illness and of joy
As life meanders on. 

It is so strange when this can’t happen 
When a loved one is lost for good
And stresses why it’s so important 
To take these opportunities to connect. 

Little ripples spread so far
A conversation here sparks a thought 
Or leads to an action, near or distant 
Our loved ones never far from our thoughts. 

So, Sister have a lovely day
Though not all is perfect in your world
Remember how many love you
Revel in this joy today. 

Brian Mathews, 1-11-23

So, staying at Port Broughton, Yorke Peninsula South Australia, for a while, so some extra time and updating my blog seemed a good idea.

Recent months haven’t been my most productive and there have been some down times, reflected in my poetry:

The light sought

The spirits so low
Yet nothing to cause this
How long before the joy in life returns?

My default seems now to be
Very like a curmudgeon 
All seen through distorted windows. 

“Shake yourself from the mire 
Reach toward the abundant brightness”
I say to myself loudly. 

But from myself I turn away
Tunneling into the blackness of my soul
Reaching for a key to turn. 

The key that opens the door 
Behind which lurks the vacuum cleaner 
To suck all the dark clouds away. 

But my reach comes up empty 
And in panic I turn away toward the light
Knowing I can not reach it yet. 

Brian Matthews, 8/10/23

I read a lot and came across an interesting book on mindfulness and grief: Grieving Mindfully… by Sameet Kumar that resonated strongly with me. A psychotherapist strongly influenced by Buddhism, Sameet helped me to see my grief, over multiple personal losses, in a more relaxed manner – ‘This too shall pass’ and, I guess, this is reflected in the following poem:

Life Continues 

The fog lifts 
the light leaks through 
Hope and joy beckon. 

Plans begin to emerge
Things to look forward to
Where before all was dark. 

Is this resilience?
The noblest attribute
Allowing recovery from pain. 

“Don’t question it”
I hear myself think,
Or the dark may again prevail. 

Accept your mind recovering 
Your soul filling 
With the potential ahead. 

And so life goes on
A journey with one destination 
But with love and joy aplenty. 

Brian Matthews, 14-10-23

My more positive mood was cast asunder, as it was for 40% of Australians, including most First Nations people (contrary to Conservative fake news), when our referendum to include Australia’s first inhabitants in our Constitution and set up an advisory committee to Parliament was voted down.

As a result I wrote the following:

A Nation Speaks

Scratch the surface 
And you will see
How racist most can be. 

Powered by arguments
That are not credible 
Marking our nation deeply. 

A simple concept 
Made into something it wasn’t 
Calls for detail so obtuse. 

Our nation will move on
But the stain will remain
Our First People ignored again. 

Brian Matthews, 15/10/23

I have been criticised for using the term ‘racist’ and I rewrote the poem replacing this with ‘intolerant’ but it didn’t work for me.

Unsurprisingly, the lies spread by the No campaign have become apparent but I am ashamed that so many Australians were misled by politicians and public figures with duplicitous backgrounds, and so I wrote this:

A Voice

A simple concept 
Muddied by the powerful 
Such leaders to follow 
With no ideas for change. 

Divided us they did
Not by the referendum 
But by negativity 
Created by those with much to lose. 

For change may have had some impact
May have asked us to confront 
That which drags our first inhabitants down
Asked the difficult questions of us all. 

What amazes me most is this
That people formed a line behind 
The most detestable leaders,
Dutton, Hanson, and Palmer. 

How could these be the ones
Who shaped our future?
It seems to me
Australia has dropped the ball. 

Brian Matthews, 16-10-23

I have been reading copiously lately courtesy of the library app Libby but a few poems have emerged:

Greenery outside 
Moving in the gentle breeze – 
Dappling the sunlight.

The Sun Shines

The sun shines
As spring approaches 
The birds call out
The cycle continues. 

The dogs sprawl
Happy to take what comes
Their owners read
Before kicking in to the day. 

And so another day goes
Always different to the last
Though some repetition inevitable 
A novel scene unfolds. 

Nothing remains the same
As time unfolds
The joy is still there
Even when hidden. 

Brian Matthews, 13-9-23

A commonality amongst writers, it would seem to me, is that the words push forth, demanding to be expressed. The quality nor the audience seem important. And thus it was with the following poem, prompted by thoughts of my daughter in law, Erin, on a ‘special’ birthday without her husband, Sam…

Birthdays Passing 

Birthdays come and go
Leaving messages hither and thither
But what do they really show?
Amongst the party poppers and glitter. 

Friends and family turn to you
Asking how to make this day
A special day, definitely not blue
Without heavy dues to pay. 

But the cost of time passing
Cannot be easily made up
Especially those loved ones missing 
Those who used to fill your cup. 

And yet the task is sure
To live a life amongst the pain
To honour those who went before
Missing loved ones who don’t remain. 

And this challenge faces us all
But for some the task can seem
A burden that makes us fall
Living a bad, bad dream. 

However, on your shoulders there appears 
The strength and love of those now gone
To wipe away the veil of tears
And point toward the rising sun. 

Brian Matthews, 25/8/23

Just a couple I have written recently. The following as a consequence of the poems from the past that keep popping up:

Word Play

It seems with words I’ve played 
Since my early days
As snippets now appear
Showing the different ways

That I have expressed my feelings 
Usually in scrawlings short
Words of love for my darling 
She who has me so much taught. 

Often I find this helpful 
The unpacking of swirling emotion
Words helping me to find
The source of my devotion. 

And, of course, the exploration 
Of the deep, deep pain
When life hurls manure
And does my heart stain. 

In concepts and ideas we may find
The tools to move ahead 
As mental static whirls around
Capturing what it is we’ve said. 

Looking for those little slivers 
Of what we recognise as joy
Leaving me to conclude that while fun
Words are much more than just a toy. 

Brian Matthews, 9-8-23

And another celebrating the birthday of one of my grandkids:

Tilly’s 7

Is Tilly truly 7?
Can that really be?
Time passes so quickly 
As we all can see.

I can only imagine 
What her future will hold
But I do sincerely hope 
Happiness will unfold. 

And that her dreams
No matter what they are
Will all come true
And she’ll shine just like a star. 

Though the future is always uncertain 
Of one thing we can be sure 
There are so many who love you
And Pop and Barbara do you adore. 

Brian Matthews, 9/8/23
For the birthday of Natalie (Tilly) Mary Matthews on 12/8/23

Two anniversaries of loss have come and gone in recent days. Firstly, the second anniversary of my Mum’s death (Mary Eileen Matthews, 10/9/1927 – 12/7/2021)

Another Anniversary 

The day comes again
Reminding of your passing
Mindful of those difficult last years
Thinking of the good times too. 

Our Mums central to our being
Shaping so much of what we are
But only human themselves
Bogged down in history and the zeitgeist. 

Still through this moulding another 
And some mould many
Creating novel individuals 
Even from the same womb. 

Resting in peace
Or galloping around the galaxy 
You have left your mark
Many bear your stamp. 

Brian Matthews, 12/7/23

And, five days later, the second anniversary of my younger brother Ian’s passing
(28/10/1953 – 17/7/2021):

Another Year

So hard to mark another year
Since this world you left
Leaving so many bereft. 

Your broad smile so missed
And those lengthy anecdotes 
Wondering if these were jokes? 

Taken too young all agree
With so much yet to offer 
And why, oh why, yet we ponder?

Knowing that this is how
It must be for everyone 
Here today then forever gone. 

But those who loved you
Will share valued memories
Of times your laughter carried on the breeze. 

Brian Matthews, 18-7-23

And amongst this, partly to distract myself, I undertook some major gardening tasks and did myself some unexpected damage to my left hip:

The Pain

A pain, so surprising 
Not felt before
Threatening my very core. 

A result of working too hard
For a man of my age
Understanding it comes with the stage. 

Amazed how vulnerable I feel
When one side of the body weak
Unable to the environment tweak. 

An ache that lingers yet
What is really feared is frailty 
A body unable to deal with reality. 

Brian Matthews, 18/7/23