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The open road

There’s a golden road of petals that leads us to our dreams,
which winds through muddy pastures with stubborn gates between.
When we face a signpost, announcing roads are closed,
should we turn back, retrace our steps and do as we are told?
Or slow our speed and venture on around that slippery bend,
confident that if we’re brave, the world will prove a friend.

Post Op Blues

Surgery’s all very well for fixing what is broke,

but hospital’s a scary place for ordinary folk.

And so I wrote this silly poem to have a little fun

and show you what’s in store for you when operated on.

First focus on admission when all the forms are filled:

You’ll be questioned, measured, x-rayed, and blood-pressured, temped and pilled.

One size fits all, the bloomers boast – outsize and sickly green.

(Tried wearing mine upon my head, to cheer the surgeon’s team.)

These paper pants so need a gown that’s draughty at the rear.

But if like me you’re extra small you might have yards to spare.

Just gobble up your happy pill that takes away all fear

and as they wheel you away we’ll hear you give a cheer.

If you’re awake in visiting hour – you’ll realise it’s absurd  –

each visitor’s full of good advice; no patient hears a word.

The nurses have it really tough with reams and reams of records;

the time for actual nursing is reduced to nanoseconds.

Now back at home I’m watching Egyptian cities going mad,

A whistleblower hunted and Mandela’s health so bad.

I only hope he has a nurse who’ll give his back some rubs,

and keep out any visitors – except the ones he loves. 














Our lane

Finally closed to cars, our lane

lets down her hair

for the birds


O deer!

“That mountain biker’s got to go,”
said Harry our red hartebeest.
YouTube shows the final blow.
“That mountain biker’s got to go!”
Now Albert Falls has world renown;
or their psycho deer at least.
“That mountain biker’s got to go,”
said Harry our red hartebeest.

The video of this encounter during a mountain-bike race has had almost 15 million hits.

A lizard’s life

My head is blue, my waistcoat too
My forelegs they are yellow
my back it is a speckled brown
and orange for my belly.
My hindlegs too are tangerine,
which makes for flashy viewing
when I feed – my lizard’s leap
invariably ends in chewing.
Augrabies Falls has big black flies
so crunchy and so juicy.
When I jump it’s cos a plump
and crispy fly’s a’cruising.
My wife is just a drab brown-grey
with plain white stripes and speckles.
It’s only I who’ll catch your eye
like some fluorescent metal.
“So what’s your name?” I hear you ask.
It’s Platysaurus broadleyi.
A mouthful, yes, but better than
Flat Lizard, wouldn’t you say?
My apologies to those of you who’ve seen these particular pics of Augrabies Falls and Flat Lizard before. This is Day 22 of NaPoWriMo and the pressure is building!!


telephone faultsman

working weekends

small boy peeps out the cab

Keeping Ma Nature afloat

South Africa’s a virtual Noah’s ark:
with brand new buffalo for Camdeboo,
and lions for the Zebra Mountain Park.
Dung beetles do their bit to clean up poo:
dancing on their balls of dung till dark,
they navigate by the Milky Way – it’s true!
‘Cause water has a pivotal role to play,
each year we celebrate World Wetlands Day.

Slowly, silently now the moon                        

Makes a clean sweep of my room

Folds the linen, stacks the books

Hangs my things back on their hooks

Dusts the shelves and cleans the floor

Then oh so gently shuts the door.


And in the morning when I wake

There is breakfast on a plate

Opened curtains, unlocked doors

Not one left of all my chores

Gentle sunshine warms my chair

For I have moonbeams in my hair