Tag Archives: Louise McCarthy

Christmas – No Stress! by L. McCarthy

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Oh dear, it’s Christmas time;
How quick the year has flown;
I haven’t made a pudding or a cake.
The shortbread – well – I made it,
But the truth is that I ate it,
Okay, I couldn’t help it, I was stressed;

From thinking ‘bout the tree,
How I hadn’t got it, yet,
And should I buy fresh pine, or get a fake,
Else go and chop one down,
Or plant one in the ground,
It’s hard to know, oh, how my head does ache.

Heavens! Gifts! I’d quite forgotten –
Shortbread! Ha! But no; I ate them;
You know, I couldn’t help it, I was stressed.
And where am I to go;
This Christmas, ho, hey, ho?
I guess I really haven’t thought ahead.

Right! Carols by candlelight;
Oh, it seems I’ve missed that night!
No worries, instead… I’ll deck the halls!
With trinkets; green and red and gold,
Mistletoe at each threshold,
It will be a wondrous sight, for all!

Except… where has all the tinsel gone?!
The Christmas bling, the bonbons?
There’s nothing in the décor box!
Just one pair of Santa socks,
And some of the nativity;
What a jolly mystery!

Oh! But wait… I begin to remember…
The missing bling… from last December…
Got twisted, in a matted knot;
Tangled round the pine and pot;
Yes… I’d hid it by the vegie plot,
Out of sight and clean forgot!

Oh dear… But wait! A thought has just appeared!
I wonder… might it be too weird?
Would it? Could it, be just fine?
If I recycled last year’s pine?
It’s Christmas Eve; it’s rather late,
A dried arrangement… could look great…?

Image by Theo Crazzolara from Pixabay

Chicken Coop by L. McCarthy

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“Bawk bok, bok choy!” Pronounced the chicken,
“Bawk bok, bok choy!”
“Bawk bok, bok choy!”
What a clever little chicken!
“Bawk bok, bok choy!” it said,
And I was only just then thinkin’
What to put in with the chicken –
What to add into the coop.
So! Bawk bok, bok choy it is!
And I’ll plant it near where chicken said –
The bawk bok bok bok bok bok broccoli!

Photo from Pexels by Engin Akyurt

Red Poppies by L. McCarthy

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Red poppies remind me of:
A painting by Vincent van Gogh,
A holiday postcard sent to me by a friend traveling near France,
A two dollar coin,
A warm sunny day in November.

Red poppies remind me of:
Stopping suddenly and being silent for one minute mid shop,
Then continuing on like nothing happened.

Red poppies remind me of:
Stories that I’ve heard of war,
Fighting that I never saw,
Soldiers’ names engraved in stone
In the centre of most towns I’ve known.

Red poppies grow
Where soldiers, long ago, stopped, suddenly;
Silent, forever.
Red poppies remind me of them.

Photo from Pexels by Pixabay

An Old Fashioned Recipe by L. McCarthy

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I found my mother’s old recipe for yo-yo biscuits,
I made myself a batch! They were so delicious.
The biscuit: fragile, delicate, custard powder yellow with decorative fork prints,
The icing: buttery smooth and pale pink to match the rosewater essence.

One biscuit each afternoon, and tea poured onto a dash of milk in a fine china cup!
After a week, the yo-yo’s had disappeared – I mean to say, they were all eaten up!
They were exactly like what my Mum used to bake –
They were first rate! But, I’d made a mistake…

So, I made another batch – the same again,
And put them all into a biscuit tin,
And brought them to my dear old neighbour –
Stayed for a cuppa – bergamot flavour.

When I got home I added a note –
At the end of the recipe, here’s what I wrote:
‘Put in a tin, and then visit someone.’
Exactly like what my mum would have done.

Image courtesy of Recipe Tin Eats

Spring, Sprang, Sprung by Louise McCarthy

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Up sprang spring after winter,

Spring sprang up before the summer,

Dormant, sleeping dozing life,

Was sprung by spring when spring sprang up!

Image by Petra from Pixabay

Spring Breeze by Louise McCarthy

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See the pretty blossoms on the trees:

Red, pink, white,

Then gone in a minute,

Stolen by the breeze.

Photo from Pexels by Brett Sayles

“The Sound of the Dodo Bird” By Louise McCarthy

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The dodo bird was last sited in the mid 1600’s. It did not fly and lived fearless, wandering

In woodlands around the coast of Mauritius. The nicobar pigeon is its closest existing relative. Fruit is thought to have been part of the dodo bird’s diet. Interestingly the digestion of the bird was aided by the use of a gizzard stone. It existed carefree until becoming prey to invasive species and sailors.

 

 

 

 

From the Nicobar Islands, the Nicobar Pigeon,

Decided to travel – its one great ambition.

 

The trip was well planned – by no means capricious,

It would meet cousin dodo on the coast of Mauritius.

 

But the pigeon from Nicobar was not up to date,

About the extinction – the Dodo Birds fate.

 

Woo-woooo, woo-woo-woe,

Woe-woe, where-where-why,

What-what, what-what, happened,

Where are you dear dodo?

 

And the Dodo bird made no sound…

 

 

”Easter Bunny’s Funny Dance”By Louise McCarthy

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Hop, hip, hop, hop, hop,

Hip, hip, hip, hop, stop.

The Easter Bunny’s hip hop dance,

It’s quite a sight, I caught a glance.

 

It goes hop, hip, hop, hip, hop, hop,

Turns around, hip, hip, hop, stop,

Tosses chocolate from its hamper

Then does a rather silly scamper.

 

See if you can do this dance,

Why not hip hop – take a chance.

Everyone – young and old,

Have a go! Be brave, be bold.

 

 

“Owl” by Louise McCarthy

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It’s late afternoon as I wander around,

Burnt leaves and ashes still float to the ground,

From the north, quite close, from those grey smoky skies,

From that direction – a night owl flies.

 

The owl is not sure – It’s awkward and clumsy,

But it catches a branch of a tall slender gumtree,

Then falls to the earth, as though it is grieving,

I think for a moment… about unbelieving.

 

The air is so still and a prayer can be silent,

But the owl cries with sorrow – a hymn of lament,

And I look with the night owl, with hope, to the sky,

When from that direction another owl flies.

 

“Leaving” by Louise McCarthy

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One hour until midnight,

A strange and warning silence,

Do we stay – what are the odds though?

Sleep is no defence.

 

The judgment is to leave,

Sad words will not escape,

Sentiment is beaten,

Just a few things can we take.

 

A box of precious items –

 

Photographs, souvenirs,

Silly little trinkets,

A change of clothes, books,

Pillows and some blankets.

 

Tall trees stand surrendered,

The backdrop of our home,

The sky is red and the air is hot,

And tomorrow is unknown.