Category Archives: Poetry

Friends In My Garden – A Tree of Grace

This poem was written for my daughter, Stephanie, who demonstrated such courage and determination after the loss of her baby and her husband in a car crash in 1990. It still makes me cry but I hope it shows how much I love and admire her.

It has been shared with many readers who lost loved ones. Please feel free to pass it on

A Tree of Grace

In my garden grows a tree

with silver leaves and flowers

of magical hue.

On her trunk

a trace of scars

tempest caused

the year her buds fell unformed

and she shivered

branches bare.

But rainbow nourished

laughter bathed

wrapped in courage

love healed by spring.

Strong she stands

a shimmering shining tree full of grace

and beauty

sparkling my garden with silver

and golding my heart.

Friends In My Garden – Chirpy Chatty Charmer

CHIRPY CHATTY CHARMER
A bright little bird
perches on my shoulder
lands in my lap
or sits on the bench beside me.
Rarely still
he bobs and darts and scurries
from tree to fence
from path to bench to me.
Whistling and chirping and singing away
He’ll talk to himself
if there’s no-one around
to share his conversations.
He loves to tell stories
and make up jokes
that aren’t always clever
but he’s so amusing
I have to laugh.

Friends In My Garden – Friendship

 

Friends In My Garden is the name of my first book, a collection of poems about people in my life depicted as birds, flowers, trees and other things that you find in a garden. Many of you have copies, but for those who don’t and who have asked to see my poems, here is the first of forty that I will post over the coming weeks. Please keep watching and please share them with your friends.

Image (59) (640x422)

Friendly flowers in my garden

 

FRIENDSHIP
Friendship is like a garden.
I throw seeds around and wait.
Sometimes a special flower appears
not flamboyant not pushy
quietly, softly it opens petals,
its beauty and gentleness
give joy to my soul.
For a while it disappears
as flowers do,

 

Each year I wait for my tulips to appear.

Each year I wait for my tulips to appear.

in its absence I feel a loss
but as time approaches for its return
I look for it every day
and rejoice in its welcome back.
You are like that flower
my friend.

Spinifex and Snakes

Gone before the heat each day

the partner I had followed to this land of Spinifex and snakes

leaving me alone

My daughter painted this picture from her memories of our life in north-west WA

My daughter, Stephanie Burns, painted this picture from her memories of our life in north-west WA. To see more of her art and fabrics go to http://artasfabric.com

with my babies

aged one and three.

No friends

the town not yet reality

no shop, no school

an alcoholic doctor

the airport down the track—an hour’s drive.

I had no car but where could I go

even if that wasn’t so?

To shark infested waters, holding two little hands?

Across a wasteland of bushes uniformly stunted?

To the caravan park

where filth, depression

and language hurled at children made me shrink.

 

Word from the south was flown up

with grader parts and other vital stuff.

Food and clothes came fortnightly by truck.

Radio was rarely heard

television never seen

no books

no strains of Mozart

no scent of flowers, twitter of birds

trees or shade or anything to feed the soul.

In that pindan-covered camp

no-one felt or thought like me.

 

Afraid of losing little ones

curious to explore that never ending sameness

each day confined within my arms-width space

sheltering from flies and sun that fried the brain

I lived inside my head.

 

 

 

Victoria Mizen

 

 

Evocative

Much is written about what we see. Today, everyone is a photographer. Sounds are recorded, enabling us to recall the trill of a bird, a crack of thunder, the voice of a loved one. The sense of smell, though, is the most powerful for that emotional pull, flinging us back to memories we thought we had forgotten. I hope my words evoke memories for you–good and bad. What is your gut reaction?

 

EVOCATIVE
Sweaty armpits, old gym shoes,
potatoes rotting in a cupboard,
dirty nappies, pig manure,Continue reading→

The Storm

A splash of sunshine offers hope.
Dreary sky and dreary heart
watch it quickly pass
as storm clouds gather pace.
What chance is there
what use is hope against the might
of tempests?
Quiet
patient must I be
learn to wait
with tolerance and trust
but is that possible
when my heart is crushed?
Have I strength within my soul
to ride out this storm
and if I do
will I survive
will I still be me?
Victoria Mizen

Memories of Turkey “Gallipoli”

Last year I visited Turkey with a group of writers and photographers. Well, our leaders were a real writer and a real photographer, the rest of us were keen students. We all fell in love with the country and the people.

Some of you have already seen the pieces I’ve included below here today, but I hope you might enjoy them again, or just be patient while my new followers read them. Continue reading→