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You win a heart, it's not a game
This truth all women know
But many men mouth-off, proclaim
Their conquests - how they crow!

Wise women rise above the urge
To capture hearts and plunder
Resist that surging urge to merge
(Except when they're downunder)

We use our weapons wisely
We wait for Cupid's shot
With follow-through we're miserly
(Unless he's worth a lot!)


Remember when life gets you down
 A wrinkle starts from a frown
Problems that seem big right now
Are minimised when you know how :
Stop and take a step away
Contemplate the actual day
Think long term and globally
Think: small fish in galax-sea


Runny eyes and runny noses can be bad
Blocked-up sinuses are equally as sad 
But to someone not afflicted
Sufferers just seem addicted
To their pills and this allergy -Gee!- fad

Some immune people are so unaware
They behave as if they really couldn't care
When their friends and family
Suffer so from allergy
"The symptom's in your head" they justly? jeer


Why is it we watch those cartoons?
What is it about those buffoons?
They over-act and they're dumb
But we end up unglum
And we sing or we hum their trite tunes

The characters so often drawn
So simply, the artist we'd scorn
But the hero is still
Somehow able to fill
Our requirements with superfluous brawn

Each evening to armchairs we waddle
A cartoon can't be a role model 
So we laugh at a crook
And forget how we look
As we wallow in this wishful twaddle

And what of the great story line?
Any over-used plot will be fine
Retell any tale
Even beyond the pail
To regurgitation we seem to incline


To interfere in nature's plan
We humans can't resist
We cannot leave the sick alone
Be euthanasia-ist
Survival of the fittest
That is nature's way
But humans will all personalise
When life is shades of grey


Men maybe peacocks if they desire
But earning power is what lights woman-fire
Healthy and sensible, whatever shape
Self-cleaning and tidy, a doting slave-ape
This is a recipe all men should follow
Stop all the strutting, be down-to-earth: wallow!
Do what delights, not what she scorns
Or...well, you'll know fury when a woman just yawns
                       ...and rolls over


 Shopping for gifts in the hot summer glare
There's so much to do but where to start? Where? 
So many choices but none can compare 
With the ones I imagined I would find there 

Do you have this problem of planning so clear? 
Only to find there's nothing like it or near? 
So you wander around in a daze and in fear
That you'll never find presents for family this year 

And finally settle, after half an hour's stare 
On  something that no one would ever wear 
Like a set of socks in an unmatching pair 
Or  somebody's book on some boring career 

But I must stop grizzling and feeling severe 
I'll have a chocolate and sip Christmas 'cheer' 
And listen to  Bing Crosby's 'White Christmas' flair 

That ought to banish the blues to the rear


The eyes, they say
Mirror the soul
So a shifty-eyed guy's
On a criminal roll
And a teary-eyed gal
Is a wet-blanket moll
Someone with a sparkling glint
Is lightning-witted and droll
But the person who narrows his eyes
Wishes you down a deep hole
And when you get a sideways glance
It'd better not be from a troll!


It's easy to spy a weakness to pry
It's too easy to fire a shot
For some, cutting comments are gloved in a sigh
Others criticize quite a lot

We should avoid being critics is what I proclaim
Be constructive with all new ideas
To knock down what is different is what I call lame
Imprisoned in the past by fears

We are what we are 'cause of what we were
And what those born before us hold dear
This is quite true for both 'he and her'
But we can all change if we care

How to keep what is good while moving forward
Is the dilemna over which to battle
If ideas cause change, or it seems they could
Customs are bones that rattle


Ah, take-aways : any will do 
Just so long as I don't have to... 
...Cook a meal for my hungry crew 

Oh, how I hate peeling and slicing
And I abhor chopping and dicing 
I also hate frying and grilling 
Even roasting is so very unthrilling 

But ready-made food,  yes indeed!
I don't care about taste when I feed
'Though I gulp my food down with speed 
You can't accuse me of greed

Eating's a chore, that's what I say
Eating food is what keeps me away 
From my pc after work each day


Don't give me a razor
For my chin or my nape
The best hair removal
Starts with duct tape

Stick it on quickly
Don't stop to think
Rip it off faster :
As quick as a wink

The tears in your eyes 
And the blood curdling scream
Will soon be forgotten
With anaesthetic cream

No hair-growth for weeks
No bristles return
When you rip out the roots
And ignore the skin burn

But if smooth-skinned is how
You wish to appear
Duct tape's not the answer :
It takes skin with the hair !


Out-dated, yet it retains a fan
The bandage still used by a "Man"

Vintage and almost collectable
Wrappable armour, tough but flexible

A sliver of metal that protects
And has qualities logic rejects

(Being both silver and yet sensible)
Idolised? Not incomprehensible !


Sitting in an Irish Pub
And listening to the tune
I soon block out the piping lilt
Conversation is a boon

A crowded house, the voices rise
And smoke haze fills the air
It's trivia night, Trivial Pursuit
They come from far and near

We pay our fee and get the form
Of course it's Irish green
Then lift our glasses, concentrate
On drinks (answers between)

As rounds go by our total climbs
Of bottles and the score
We manage to outdo the rest
Yes we'll be back for more


Here's a tale about my son
Who grew his hair long, just for fun

It got longer, with ringlet swirls
(It's red and tends to make cute curls)
He let it get down near his chin 
It flopped in his eyes, hid his grin 

Because he couldn't play like that 
He went everywhere in a hat 
I tried to cut a shorter style 
But the result wiped off his smile 

We'll have to pay a professional 
And there my sins, confess, I will
The hairdresser will say "Tut tut!"
"It took me years to learn to cut"


      "What's that creak?" the child cowers 
       A sheltering pillow, buried for hours 
       Peek not past the blanket edge 
       Horror movies all re-dredge 
       Until "Lightswitch!" a brain empowers


The long weekend with Monday off
Is almost here I cheer
Our Queen's birthday we celebrate
In June of every year

It helps us face the winter frosts
As cold creeps across the land
We need a day to huddle at home
Better yet, have winter banned


  A woman who has slaved and sold her soul
  Deserves a break, deserves a chance to rest
  Some time to sink into a homely nest
  A holiday: a working woman's goal
  Some days when work's demands have no control
  Some days when NOTHING happens would be best
  In time all workday pressures I'll divest
  And I'll fulfil my other, woman, role

  A holiday means time to be alone
  To read and write and think all on my own
  Recouping strength, regaining energy
  Replenishing the soul's vitality
  A holiday means rediscovering
  The pleasure friends and family can bring


An aura like a bubble
Surrounds me every day
I can never shake it
It's here with me to stay

It senses someone's presence
When I am turned away
And moodiness is shown
In many shades of grey

It's made up of electrons
The scientific say
But you won't see my aura
Unless you're kind of fey

There was a young New Zealand chap
Seeking fame by doing rap 
His rhymes weren't bad
But what sold the lad
Was his backwards-facing baseball cap

There once was a counter: Abacus
Who never did take account-a-this:
When you add-a the credit
You gotta remove-a the debit
The whole counterpoint he did miss

Spenserian Sonnet: LIKE FATHER  LIKE SON

The Christmas season is a time for love
Forgiveness, understanding and of peace
As represented in the snow white dove
Let's open up our hearts seeking release
At Christmas, time together should increase
With willingness to put our family first
So selfishness and self-seeking then cease
Serenity fills hearts, in love, immersed
Escape from outside pressures, they're the worst
There's peace in knowing where we all belong
If bruised and lonely spirits need be nursed
A family loves us even when we're wrong
Accepts when we don't do quite as we should
Forgives us, imperfections understood



T'was during summer, years ago
A family moved on out
City slickers they were then
That's all they knew about

They chose a valley in the hope that
De-stressing was assured
They only lived there after work
So never were they cured

The big oldfashioned farmhouse there
Looked comfortable and cool
They found out in the winter though
It wasn't such a jewel

The land around, a grassy field
A challenge to the Mum
She planned and planted gardens and
Developed a green thumb

The grass, it  took the whole weekend
To mow as they soon found 
But there was less and less of lawn
As gardens filled the ground

So Saturday and Sunday too
Dad mowed the field in hope
He thought one day there would be less 
(City slicker dope)

And Mum would prune and hoe and weed
Around her fledgling plants
Imagining the day when she
Might straighten up her stance

Time passed, the gardens grew so much
More space was recommended
The boundary fence was shifted out
The lawns and all extended

Then Mum got on the internet
And surfed and laughed and wrote
Dad decided there and then
He'd have a tethered goat


If knee-jerkers could only see
Past the forest to the tree
Progress would more speedy be

If doom-sayers only could
See the tree instead of wood 
Action might be as it should


"Fire! Fire!" came the call, 
just beyond the station wall
False alarm! A little boy 
was playing with his wagon toy
Hearing such a childish shout, 
the duty officer looked out
What he saw there caused a smile, 
he wandered out to chat awhile
"Good looking fire engine there!" 
he stated as he sauntered near
"Your fire truck is red like mine...
Oh! Your dog! What made him whine?"
The boy was tying on a rope. 
"As good as horse power I hope!"
The fireman watched the dog/horse prance 
and then he took a second glance
"Hey, kiddo, that could give him colics!"
(The dog was tied up by his bollocks!)
"Why not tie his neck instead?" 
The little boy just shook his head
Then shrewdly spoke up to the fireman
"Then I wouldn't have a siren!"


'Though I'm a country bumpkin
I'm sure it doesn't show
I'm visiting the city
In label clothes, you know

I'll have my Levi jeans on
Tick cap. Doc Marten boots
I'll show those city slickers
Who wear nothing else but suits

I love those hotel lobbies
So spacious and so cool
I'll only stare a little bit
And I won't even drool

I'll have to go exploring
Use the lifts and prowl the halls
Peek in through the open doors
Drive cleaners up the walls

I'll relax in my hotel room
With chocolate bars and beer
Resorting to the restaurant
When that tiny fridge is clear

In the dining room so fancy
I'll sip the good house wine
Although it tastes like vinegar
I'll pronounce that it is fine

I'll do the shops the next day
Try weird cafe food
Buy heaps of label bargains
Feeling thrilled at looking shrewd

Although I'm from the country
City folks won't realise
I'll seem sophisticated
'Cos I'm so worldly-wise


Outback Aussie drovers 
  are not the only folk 
Who retell all their history 
  as a sort of non-stop joke 
Who love to rhyme and reminisce 
  of simple pleasures gone 
But I prefer to look at NOW 
  and that, I'll comment on 

Here in Kiwi Country, 
  we have our own tradition 
Of knocking back outspokeness 
  and people with a mission 
It simply isn't right to be, 
  a poppy standing tall 
Sit on the fence, don't rock the boat 
  and don't stick out at all 
Bite the bullet, she'll be right, 
  whinging isn't done 
Except when there's a payrise 
  but not for everyone 

Weekend days are holy days,
  for followers of sport 
Mow the lawns and get indoors, 
  for moments tension-fraught 
Those Aussie teams will always try, 
  their darndest to look tough 
But all good Kiwi blokes know looks, 
  just won't be good enough 
And there's no question what to drink, 
  balling out the referee 
Tins of beer like 4X, 
  or Fosters cans maybe 

Now as for doing up your place, 
  when you decorate 
Don't hire any tradesmen, 
  Kiwis Dee-Eye-Why it, mate! 
Or better yet get someone, 
  to owe a thing or two 
And pay you back by sharing, 
  the boring bits with you 
These are true-blue Kiwi traits,
  Auss-ish, I'll admit 
Although we're life-long rivals, 
  we're alike more than a bit


I knocked on the door and  rattled the window
Let me in, let me show I'm no ordin'ry bimbo
Hot-tempered but keen
And so's my routine
The diners'll lap up my long-legged limbo


There's a rollerblading lady
Whose apparel says she's shady
But she's eager and vivacious on those skates
Just beware her pitcher-aiming
When her temper needs restraining
Don't go teasing her, she always takes the baits

"Mister, may I take your order
On my mini taperecoder?
I can recommend the salad, it has style
It was made with me in mind
When I toss it, it's designed
And the veges end like me: all in a pile"


Don't be saying you weren't warned
Tantrums happen when I'm scorned
And I heard that whispered comment so degrading

When a woman works her butt off
Matters not if she's in cut-offs
So get ready to receive my just tirading

"Don't be staring like ape creatures
At my feminine-shaped features
Have some manners if you've such a thing on tap"

"I can juggle jugs of cider
Stop my skating right beside yer
Drop my bundle accidently in your lap"


While skating between all the tables
Being careful with somebody's plate
Holding it high and one handed
Determined I wouldn't be late...

Aware of my reputation
For service that's sloppy and slow
Wondering how to improve it
Concentrating on earning my dough...

One hand isn't really enough when
I need a free hand to fend
Off lechers who ought to know better
Than grabbing a workers' back end...

It's hardly surprising, what happened
The plate I was holding aloft
May have been destined for someone
But now it won't ever be scoffed...

Instead, all its contents went flying
And things hit the fan like they do
I skated away with the lecher
And gave him a private one-two...

No one leers at me now, in public
My reputation has risen a notch
I'm known as the classy young waitress
Who never lets anyone watch

There was a young couple intent
On dinin'  'til ev'nin' was spent
In candlelight, she
Seemed all right, so he
Stopped pretending that he was a gent

Candles placed in a pottery tent
Their heat to some musk-oil went
The couple each thought
The other had wrought
An odour that was heaven scent


I want to mention TV now
And how to 'get it off'
So many males channel surf
Remotely from their trough

Remote control gives men a thrill
Push butt ons for results
Such silly pressure tactics though
Won't turn us on, you dolts!

I 'd rather be surfing but the gym is calling
Oh why do I find exercise so appalling?
I only do circuits while awaiting my daughter 
She does aerobics like the rest of us oughta

I just suffer and strain to sculpt some muscle
The whole thing is really a mind/matter tussle
It helps me to cope with stress... a bit
When the mirror shows someone so shapely and fit


Well I am quite a mixture but I claim purity
We all came from cro-magnon, way back in history 


Verbal diarrhoea, the dreaded old VD
Is something one can catch all right- How else infect a she?
Women are the ones who talk with wit and repartee
And common sense of course, altho', we natter if needs be...
(No better way to rid oneself of men without a plea
Than chattering of nothing much ...thus setting oneself free)


Be a winner not a loser
'Cos a winner is a chooser
……So let's all choose to be
          SMOKE FREE !
There'll ALWAYS be losers - could BE chick or bloke
Who can't WAIT to light up, their VERY first smoke
They THINK that the danger is ALL just a joke
They THINK it's no worse than just DRINKing a coke
They DON'T even care when the SMOKE makes them choke !

YES ! Now is the time 
To join in and rhyme
Be brave and say I'M SMOKE FREE !
But IF you're a loser and YOU smoke a fag
You'll ONLY be proving that YOU'RE a real drag
Your BREATH'll be making the OTHER'S all gag
And YOU will soon look like a WRINKLED old hag
'Cos SMOKE-sucking miserable MOUTH muscles sag!


Cyberspace has changed the English word
Now it's spelled just how it's heard
Should anyone even really care?
If everyone's intent is clear?
All spelling critiques should be deferred

Shakespearian Sonnet: BEAUTY

The richness of our world is truly seen
Each season as we marvel year by year
Such colours as new leaves of fresh spring green
And autumn auburns, burning ochre cheer
The sombre contrast, sleeping branch so bare
The brilliance of a bough weighed down with white
For sunshine sends the snow a sparkling glare
Which gentles to a glitter in moonlight
Then pastel pretty blossoms, others bright
I revel as their passion heralds spring
And roses bloom, a perfumed velvet sight
All unrestrained, a heedless pleasure bring
That blissful sense of beauty soaking in
Is sensuality essential sin?