MADISON

Her cheeky smile will warm the cockles of your heart,

A memory to keep when we are miles apart.

Her infectious giggles will run like blood through your vein,

Once you've heard it you'll never be the same.

Her sparkling eyes will light up the darkest recess of your soul,

Diamonds have a magical way of making a person whole.

Her fiery feminine ways will shock your body to the core,

It's all a Hollywood act to gain much, much more.

Her electric spirit will brighten your life like Edison,

She is my granddaughter we all call Madison.

In the Air Again

(Note: Read or sing this in tune with Willie Nelson's On the Road Again!)

In the air again, I’m soaring through the clouds my friend,
Going back to the place were I must spend,
My time until I’m on the move again.

I’m leaving Moscow my friend, don’t think I’ll ever be back again,
‘Cause those Russian drove me round the bend,
Man I’m on the move again.

In the air again, it’s rough and tumble in the clouds my friend,
Their serving stale sandwiches again, this fact I just can not comprehend,
Man I’m in the air again.

I’m on the ground again, here in Kiev airport a short time to spend,
Just hanging around in the transit lounge my friend,
Until I’m back in the big blue sky again.

In transit it’s a trend, with other people time you can spend,
While away the hours with a yarn or ten,
Until you’re back up in the air again.

Flights been delayed my friend, at least it hasn’t been cancelled again,
We have another two and a half hours in transit to spend,
Man I may never fly again!

We’re taking off again, this time it’s for five hours my friend,
I hope the dinner isn’t sandwiches again,
I’m back in the big blue yonder again.

On the ground again, you’ve got to love the Business Lounge my friend,
When you’ve got to spend six hours on the ground,
It’s really heaven my friend.

In the air again, it’s the last leg of the journey my friend,
It’s been five weeks on holiday we did spend,
But it’s nice to be going home again.

So now I’m home again, Kuwait’s got 44 degrees my friend,
It’s actually good to be back home I can’t pretend,
But in ten days I’ll be back in the air again!

My Love

My love is like a mosquito,
Buzzing in the night.
Oh how I wish he’d get up,
And turn of the ruddy light.

Although I love him dearly,
Sometimes he can be a pest.
But taking good care of me,
Is what he does the best!

Hostel Marmalade

In a cosy little courtyard is where you’ll find,
A place you can stretch out, relax and unwind.
Six rooms in all, two with private bathroom, four without,
When visiting St Petersburg, the best place to stay no doubt.

The rates are reasonable whether you’re single, double or more,
Conveniently close by is a small grocery store.
Cook your own meals, take a shower or wash your clothes,
Most importantly, breakfast is included as everyone knows.

The staff are pleasant, most helpful and kind,
Always ready to help guests when they’re in a bind.
The place is very central to everything on offer,
St Petersburg has many attractions to proffer.

Clean, new and fresh, it also has internet,
You won’t find a friendlier place I bet.
On our trip it has to be the best place we’ve stayed,
What’s it called? I hear you ask; it’s Hostel Marmalade!

Whispers on the Wind

Voices whisper on the wind
a sense of nervousness in the air.
Future generations have not forgotten them
but at what price does the city bear.

What was once pure and noble
affordable by only those who paid the price.
Now come ten to the dozen in multitudes of colour
on the tourist shelves they look nice.

Across the detailed inlaid floors
where royalty once softly trod.
Thousands of shoes of all shapes and sizes
now noisily and heavily plod.

Fine works of art adorn the walls
nothing less than from the masters no doubt.
For the fraction of the price
copies ensure no one will miss out.

They’re all laid to rest in the fortress
peacefully there they sleep under.
Or are they turning in their tombs
at the modern St Petersburg, I wonder!

Battlefields of Old Stalingrad

The orange butterfly suns its silky wings
upon the path of stone,
As the blue ones flitter from plant to plant
across the field unsown.

The wormwood sends out its scent
with every step taken.
This place that was once a fiery battle field
Mother Nature has not forsaken.

The ground that was red is now all green
and tranquillity fills the air.
Where the mighty invader and the brave defender,
lie together in silence there.

On both sides some are known
and some are not.
Many are still lost
but not forgot.

Scores were innocent doing their duty
and some downright bad.
You feel sorry for those who
no choice they had.

The passing of time eases the pain
as the summer sun goes down.
The people have moved on
peace now resides in Volgograd town.

Hill 102

Mother Russia wields her sword
Atop Mamay Mound,
Looking over the township of Volgograd
She majestically stands her ground.

Four months of fierce fighting
Took place on Hill 102 (one-O-two),
She stands in defiance of the enemy
Ensuring peace for me and you.

The pantheon names some of those
But it represents just a few,
Of the million Russian soldiers
Who never saw the day anew.

All that’s left of old Stalingrad
Is the battle beaten flour mill,
But despite the tragedy of war
Nothing defeats the power of human will.

The Sarcophagus

Life is present on the ground and even in the air
Cleaning up our mess Mother Nature has her way
It’ll take some time to heal herself but she’ll make it one day
The guards’ check everyone going in to make sure all come out
No one gets left inside the zone; there can never be any doubt
We drive the long road in, as expectations run high
What will we see heaven knows but no longer can they hide the lie
Inside the thirty kilometre radius, Chernobyl is alive
With workers protecting the site and ensuring the world survives
Water pipes travel high above the road rather than underground
To prevent disturbing the earth where the radiation sleeps so sound
Many buildings and houses are left in disrepair
While Lenin stands upright and proud in the town square
The Orthodox Church is all that remains of the faith that once was here
Its colours of blue, purple, green and gold hide the tragedy so near
A monument stands in memory of ‘those who saved the world’ that year
If not for them, today Europe might not even be here
Flowers and trees sugar coat the devastation below
What’s going on under the sarcophagus’ hand, God only will know
The gigantic catfish in the river tell us no lies
As the meter readings around reactor four begin to rise
The skin begins to prickle as you near number four
They say taking control was harder than fighting a war
Nature has taken over in Pripyat; it’s not a town anymore
Looters destroyed the houses, schools and every single store
Birds and bees fly about; the trees and grass grow tall
No wonder the people hadn't any idea when they couldn’t see the danger at all
Carefully we tread across the glass, books strewn all over the floor
My emotions rise in my chest, I don’t know if I can take more
The desperate measures man takes to survive are evident at the store
All that remains are the isle signs and trolleys scattered around the floor
The Ferris wheel stands forlorn, constructed for the first of May
But the tragedy of reactor four ensured it never started that day
Twenty-four years ago they averted a world catastrophe
Will they reach the deadline, time is running out, we’ll have to wait and see.

Train to Kiev

Rickety Rack
Clickety clack
The train powers on down the railroad track
The children play noisily in the corridor
Oh how I wish I could close the door
But the heat is so oppressive
In this carriage that isn’t so impressive
Nowhere to sit, only to lay
But to where we’re going it’s the best way
The man on the bunk below as finally woken up
He dresses and takes a sip from his metal tea cup
Off to the bathroom so stinky and dirty
We still have two hours to go as it’s only nine thirty
Seventeen and a half hours is a very long time
To be in a small cabin and be so confined
It’s hard on the smokers but they don’t care
They smoke in the carriage ends and pollute the air
There are cabins better than ours and ones also worse
So I’ll quit complaining, just lay here and end my verse!

Defence of Sevestapol

The brave soldier and sailor
Stand majestically on the shore
Looking out towards the harbour
To ensure that the enemy lands here no more

The flame burns at their feet
In memory of who and what was lost
But the freedom of the land and people
Always comes at a very high cost

Their size is but a symbol
Of the courage that was seen
By the brave young men of Sevestapol
Oh what did their deaths all mean?

Wisteria

She hangs down the wall,
Like the frills of petticoats,
Her aroma dances on the air,
Into your senses it floats.

Her little fancy purple flowers,
Sends others into a fit of hysteria,
She will captivate you for hours,
She is our lady called Wisteria.

Reflections

The old man sits by the side of the road,
Playing his sweet melody,
He hopes you’ll stop and listen,
And leave a small gratuity.

The elderly woman sits staring at the church,
Reflecting on what her life has been,
Looking to God for answers,
For the atrocities she’s seen.

The Unknown Road

We fear the unknown and what we can not see,
She could be as innocent as you and me,
What is under the veil and the black robe?
Do we have the right to probe?

It is a minority group that spreads the disease of fear,
And strips us of those we love and hold dear.
Their bombs and explosions rip things apart,
To trust in them where do we start?

Politicians shuffle their decks and negotiate,
Religious leaders try to stem the fear and hate,
But is it really for the good of people in the land,
Or should we all begin to make a stand.

When will it end, will it ever stop,
Will we ever learn when will the coin drop?
Will we ever live together in peace and harmony?
Or continue down the pathway of greed and money.

The Veil of Rights

She wears a veil to hide her face,
Her reasons are her own,
Is it our right to question why,
Or should we leave her alone.

Some wear it out of faith,
Some to ward of the chase,
From the hounds of Arab man,
Who live in her desert place.

The civilised world sees it as a prison,
One from which she needs to be set free,
Or have we not opened our eyes enough,
To understand more we need to see.

Her world is very different from ours;
There is her faith, her duty, and her right,
To wear what she chooses in her land,
Any day and any night.

But when she comes to live among us,
Her world is thrown into turmoil,
We demand she loose the veil,
To her faith how can she remain loyal.

It is a delicate situation for everyone,
In our present day world of wars;
She needs to understand, as do we,
That we all need to uphold our laws.

ANZAC 2010

The sun rises on the horizon,
As the bugler plays her solemn ode,
Heads are bowed in memory,
For those who gave so much,
So long ago.

The tears stream down my cheeks,
As I watch the wreaths laid to rest,
It is but a small token to give,
For those who gave so much,
So long ago.

The pain I feel inside my chest,
Is but a small sacrifice in comparison,
To the pain and suffering on the battlefield,
Of those who gave so much,
So long ago.

The dream of many in humankind,
Is to never visit such sorrow again,
But will we ever learn or just remember,
For those who gave so much,
So long ago.