Tag Archives: Celia Berrell

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Springing To Action

 

Sprr-r-r-ring is such an active word.

You can hear it gathering-up its force.

Ready to burst out a kind of ping.

Releasing its energy on a course.

 

It’s the name we give to the season when

all living things gear-up to abound.

We use it to label a water source

that’s pushing its way through the spongy ground.

 

It’s also the name we give a device

that bends and moves but will not crack.

It’s often metallic and flexible.

If it’s pushed or pulled it does the same back.

 

A spring isn’t always a coiled-up wire.

It could be a curve or a V-shaped bend.

Like a bow that shoots arrows through the air.

Or a pair of tweezers with open ends.

 

A spring can be made from a plastic mould.

A blister, a mound or a curvy dome.

They’re hidden in keyboards for typing things.

And once were used on an old mobile phone.

 

A pen you can click. A used paperclip.

A clock that goes tick. A peg that can grip.

A doorknob that twists. A bike-bell that rings.

It’s likely they’ve all got some kind of sprr-r-r-ring!

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #34

Celia said: Many Australians seem to have an easy-going approach to life.  Is this reflected in the way we say words like “spring”?  Other cultures and languages speak in a more animated way than us.  Can you “roll your r’s” like the Italian and Spanish people do?  Or gargle your “r’s” like the French?  How do you make the word “spring” really spring?

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An Album of Yesterdays

I caught a piece of yesterday

to share with you today.

It’s clinging to a memory

of how we laugh and play.

 

I know that piece of yesterday

will never go astray.

It’s squashed inside a heavy book.

That’s where it’s going to stay.

 

Tomorrow, when I’m old and grey

I’ll still remember yesterday

and how we used to play and laugh.

Because … I have our photograph!

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #32

Celia said: Personal pictures and photos have an almost magical connection with our memories and emotions.  And some become more precious as the Yesterdays slip by!  Do you treasure your analogue or digital album of Yesterdays?

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To Bee or not?

Is it a bee without a buzz?

It could be a bee with all that fuzz.

But then its wings stick-out too far

and all six legs have got no hair.

 

You want to know the reason why?

Because it is a bee-sized fly!

 

They seem to wear their bee-costumes

and pollinate the same bee-blooms.

Their females are a bee’s worst pest

and lay their eggs in real-bee nests.

 

To be a bee-fly small or large

it helps to be bee-camouflaged.

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #29

Celia said: This poem isn’t about bees.  Honest!

http://bie.ala.org.au/species/urn:lsid:biodiversity.org.au:afd.taxon:5c4d1b74-df10-4cda-9bfc-220490890500

Bombyliidae (Bee Flies)
Bee flies are large, fat, and hairy, often with a long, rigid proboscis. They are excellent mimics of bees, and may have black and yellow stripes along the abdomen. The adults are avid seekers of nectar from various flowers, although a few species feed on pollen. They are important pollinators, and can reach the nectaries of many wildflowers that are inaccessible to other flies. Their larvae are brood parasites on various species of bees and wasps.

 

 

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Will I? Won’t I?

Our senses are detectives

 

I hear a kettle boil and click.

I see the steam rise soft and thick.

I sense that kettle’s very hot.

Will I touch it?  NO I’ll not.

 

I see green mould upon the fruit.

I touch it and it feels too soft.

I smell the scent of yucky rot.

Will I taste it?  NO I’ll not.

 

I feel the raindrops on my skin.

I smell the dampness closing in.

I see the lightning on the hill.

Will I hear it?  Yes I will.

 

I see the smoke and bonfire blaze.

I feel its warmth upon my face.

I hear the crackling spits and spills.

Will I smell it?  Yes I will.

 

I hear a mossie’s whining flight.

It stops.  And then I feel a bite.

Will I see it? Not at night.

Will I squash it?  Yes I might!

Celia Berrell

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #27

Celia said: If asked to do something, people may say YES and then change their mind.  I tend to say NO first-up, THEN change my mind!  Which way round will it be for you?

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Snowflake Nucleation

 

Fabulous flecks

of feather-white fluff

gracefully fall

from a frozen sky.

 

But moisture and cold

aren’t quite enough

to make water droplets

solidify.

 

Most of those freezing

flakes of snow

use something alive

on which to grow.

 

Those Jack Frost patterns

will only start

when a microbe lies

at a snowflake’s heart.

Celia Berrell

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #28

Celia said: Fleeting, gentle, cool, melting … there’s something delightful about feeling the caress of a snowflake on my face. I can see all those rosy cheeks in the wintery weather down south. Love that snow!

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Drawing A Memory

 

How do you doodle?

Leafy-shapes or people?

Zigzag sharp

or swirly soft.

Spirals, squares or circles?

 

Why do we doodle?

Feeling tense or troubled?

Trying not to

go to sleep.

Puzzled, bored or muddled?

 

Doodling while listening

prevents our mind from wandering.

It helps to pen

a drawing-hook.

But NOT in someone else’s book!

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #25

Celia said: What’s the point of doodling?  Well it turns out that, rather than being a distraction, it can help us focus!  So go ahead – use your super-doodle power.  (My favourites are curls and swirls.)

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Too Late for Chocolate?

 

It’s best to say YES to sensible food.

Eat all our veggies

with meat well chewed.

 

It’s best to say YES to exercise.

It helps keep us fit

and also wise.

 

It’s best to say YES to a good night’s sleep.

With eight to ten hours

of dreaming deep.

 

BUT

It’s hard to say NO to late TV shows

with popcorn or ice-cream

or marshmallows.

 

SO …

You wouldn’t say YES, if handed a plate

of yummy baked cakes

or some sweet chocolate …

would you?

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Celia said: When we’re tired, we are more likely to give in to temptations.  Well that’s my excuse.  What’s yours?

 Self-controlled people have better lives – but for the rest, lack of willpower is more like physical fatigue than moral failure, says Roy F. Baumeister, professor of social psychology at Florida State University.

 

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Pretty Cities

Pretty cities love their trees.

We know they help prevent disease

by trapping poisons found in air

from fumy cars that drive round there.

 

Green-leaved cities cool things down.

Those leafy air-cons make no sound

evaporating water while

providing shady streets with style.

 

Tree-lined cities seem to manage

heavy rain and water drainage.

Tree roots tend to drink-up well-as

leafy crowns form umbrellas.

 

Pretty cities need their trees.

From wind-chimed leaves and shadowed ease

to joys of birdsong’s many keys.

So cities, please don’t lose your trees.

Celia Berrell

Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #22

Celia said: In leafy suburbs and shady streets, gentle giant trees do more than simply add a splash of green to a city’s stony setting. I’m grateful for those city trees.

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Rosella’s Dilemma

 

At five-to-eleven Rosella flew in

to a magical garden where time stands still.

With five giant statues of fairy-tale folk

and two silver fountains that sang and then spoke.

 

Eleven big books that could read for themselves

surrounded by flowers and mischievous elves.

Eleven days later he flew out again

and found that the time was exactly the same.

 

“Still ten fifty-five?” he said with a grin

“In that case, I may as well do it again!”

 

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #21

Celia said: Your photo looks like a place where time stands still … At the moment, there doesn’t seem to be enough time in the day for all the things that need to be done.  Having somewhere beautiful to go, where time stands still, sounds like a fantastic solution.  I’m imagining it right now.

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Croc-o-diner

The crocodile has every right

to fall in love or have a fight.

He likes his home.  He wants to stay

and have a feed and sleep and play.

 

But better not get in his way

or YOU won’t see another day!

 

So when you travel our great land

respect this resident so grand

and DON’T go swimming where he hides

among the rivers, banks and tides.

 

It’s not HIS fault that tourists may

taste just like croccy’s take-away!

Celia Berrell
  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #20

 

 

 

 

Celia said: My husband is considering working in a remote coastal location in Far North Queensland where it is possible to find crocodiles lurking under the buildings.  To all the people who work up there, PLEASE be careful and keep yourselves off their dinner menu!