Friday, May 22, 2020
For quite a while, feeling crook, I often got winded, reading a book.
Couldn't golf, without pain & strife, I thought I had better tell the wife.
“What’s wrong?” she said. “Strange?” I thought, “Does she really care!”
“It’s pain!” I said, “Oh? ” she said, with a non-committal stare.
I saw the doctor, and asked, “What’s wrong? Is it a dried-up socket?”
He looked at me – “Your shoulder’s fine! How much is in your pocket?”
“Why?” I said. “I’ve Private Health, - their benefits to share!”
“That’s good, in-part, 'cause it’s your heart! It’s showing lots of wear!”
“You jest, my friend! I’m forty-five, can’t be my bloody ticker!”
But, as I said it, odd , I know, I was feeling somewhat sicker.
“To hospital, with you, and bloody quick! I’ll call the ambulance.
If you’re not there soon, it’s trouble, mate, you haven’t got a chance!”
“Good luck!” he cried, “I’ll phone ahead, and say you’re on your way!”
Off I went, my life’s been spent. - My Daughters! What do I say?
The 'Doc was quick, I felt no nick, my good wife standing there.
I felt confused, I always do! “- Did she really care?”
Before I knew it, I was out, a row of stitches to talk about.
I was in the ‘groove’, no pain at all - until I tried to move.
The pain was indescribable! It took my breath away.
“The medicine’s not effective, 'Doc, - in any bloody way!”
Three days gone and I’m out the door! “Where the hell am I going?”
“Home!” She said. “Oh!” I asked, “You've done the weeds and mowing?”
With little time to reflect on things, I was instructed by the wife,
“You’ve got to do your exercise. Get fit, back into life!”
At ten days out, and walking lots, I was losing heaps of lard,
- twelve miles a day, and more each week, it wasn’t very hard.
At the end of June, two months had gone, since ‘operation day’,
she begged of me, quite earnestly, “Please , just go away!”
“Goodbye!” she said. “Why?” I said, “I’ve been so good to you!
I’m better now, and not as stressed. You do look good in blue!”
“Too late!” She yelled. I couldn’t hide, my anguish for a second.
“You’ve turned into an invalid, on that, I did not reckon!”
After sixteen years, there were lots of tears. Has she shed one, yet?
I was filled with grave concern for kids, and, “Did we have a pet?”
July, the fourth, Fernando came, to help me move away,
but, to ease my chagrin, he smiled and said, ‘It’s Independence Day!’
Roberto - Aug. 2000
Monday, January 07, 2019
I watched as many games as possible, beamed in from Australia,
I love to see the Rugby teams, all dressed in their regalia.
The 'Boks, the 'Blacks, the Mighty French, Tonga and Samoa,
Scotland, Ireland, Italy, too, and Japan – now, there's a goer!
World Cup Rugby, tests of strength, the pride of all the Nations,
they're vying for the 'Ellis Cup', and heaps of celebrations.
Tough as teak, and strong as bulls, stomachs - all in layers,
it's professional now, big-dollar boys, no room for 'ama-tayeurs'.
As weeks went by, teams dropped out, sadly, that's the way,
four teams were left, with a chance to win, to play on Saturday!
France went well, the week before, and many seemed to think,
they'd keep it up, trounce the 'Poms, they'd create a bloody stink!
The Wallabies, too, we know and love, put on quite a show,
knocked the All Blacks out by twelve - to them, a nasty blow.
As luck would have it, the 'Poms got up, to challenge for the Cup,
having had a tiring year, '…could they keep it up?'
The Aussie team, twice victors, were holders of the 'mug',
should have introduced young Wilko, to a nasty, ugly, thug.
'Break his legs' and 'Kick him twice'! His face is just 'too nice'.
Get him down and ruck him hard, a touch of 'rugby spice'?
So came the night, that fateful night, the Aussies and the 'Poms,
they were tied together right at the end - a battle of the 'bombs'?
What happens if we're still locked up, will extra effort tell?
Will we make it through to win, before that final bell?
One minute to go, we had the ball - we only had to hang on,
they won a line-out, so what’s new? - They'd done it all night long!
A second to go, until the siren, you'd bet London to a brick,
they'd get the ball to Wilkinson, who'd take a snap drop-kick.
That's the way it happened, mate, and England won the game,
but, little did the Wallabies, have reason to feel shame.
One hundred minutes of battle, to lose a game that way,
is testimony, to two great teams, but the Cup just slipped away!
Roberto - Jan. 2004
LABELS: Cultural - Sport
Friday, June 14, 2013
Years ago, I travelled down, to Leeton, New South Wales,
where sun-drenched Australian rice, is heralded and hailed.
The reason for this long, long, trip, was to catch-up with a tyro,
whose name was Richard Thomson, he ran the Historic Hydro.
A hotel of grand design, from many long years past,
had lovely grounds to walk upon, and all so nicely grassed.
Richard and his good wife, Linda, took care of every booking,
their duties included tour guide, they even did the cooking!
My daughter Jess, and I, had little to do ourselves,
time to relax, unwind, grab a book right off the shelves.
A blazing fire was warming, indicative of grace and style,
relieving tension I'd built up, from driving many a mile.
Well, Richard eventually relocated, to Dubbo, in the west,
the modern Tallarook Motor Inn, was his latest quest.
A modest motel of 23 rooms, with parking off the street,
gives Richard time to welcome you, and provide you with a seat.
The motor inn is located close, to all attractions like the zoo,
and the city centre, too, if shopping's what you do.
The thing my lady, Karen, and I, enjoyed, was walking in the park,
down near the Macquarie river, from dawn 'til sometimes, dark.
The rooms were really comfortable, and all, spotlessly clean,
with well-appointed kitchenettes, the like, we've never seen.
The beds were better than mine at home, blankets, warm and cosy,
to stop you waking up, with a nose that's cold and rosy.
All the usual amenities were there, and in summer-time I bet,
the pool would be used by all, a chance to get all wet.
Yes, it's good to stay with Richard, when you're travelling out this way,
Lord Richard T., of Tallarook, will just top-off your day.
Roberto - June 2013
Sunday, April 14, 2013
I'm ten feet tall, and bullet-proof, since we started sharing lives,
and I whisked away the doubts I had, following three disastrous wives.
Karen brought a breath of air, to a suffocating soul,
and her smile shone bright light, it did, down into the 'hole'.
The doubts I had at sixty-one, were many, and seated deep,
had I missed the boat of happiness, I'd think before I'd sleep.
I'd given up the will to meet, and socialize, and dream,
loneliness, a dreadful thing, would sometimes make me scream.
Then one day, while out shopping, with my youngest daughter, Jess,
a ray of sunshine, full of grace, my mind became a mess.
It emanated from a lovely face, I thought must be an angel's,
had I died and gone to heaven, without a warning bell ?
I know I said something smart, akin to double-dutch,
a mumble of jumbled words, not meaning very much.
It sounded like a coffee, and would Karen really like one,
she was working, but said yes. Hell, just what have I done ?
I checked my courage, making sure it would not desert me,
and asked her once again, making sure I'd done it properly.
Her answer was the same, so I gave her my phone number,
it was then my tongue went sleepy, and my mouth, a little number.
Despite my inability to talk coherently, I managed to stay upright,
I was transfixed with fear and dread, that seemed so strangely right.
I forgot her name, and what she said, but the ball was in her court,
If she didn't ring, all my efforts, would add right up to nought.
She did call up, and twice, my goodness, which was encouraging,
I started smiling widely, and felt life's drudgery turn to spring.
Never say die, they say, and there's hope for everyone,
the smile's still there, and it is fixed, and I'm only sixty-one !
Roberto - April 2013
Monday, July 18, 2011
My Family has been here, in Australia, for two hundred years,
that puts us in company, without many peers.
From a Member of Parliament, to my favourite, a Postman,
I'm the result of good breeding, of woman and man.
My travels were many, and I met lots of people,
the women, of course, wanted a walk to the steeple.
But, I chose of the best, from the many a'fore me,
and thought I was lucky, to have only three!
Moulded in steel, with burnished sun-tan,
I gave of my best, and I still think I can.
Though to marry again, I'd need frontal-lobotomy,
or someone to grab me, and hopefully, throttle me.
All marriages ended in strife, and divorce,
you can bet it was my fault, they'd say that, of course.
If you look for a reason, a common denominator,
It's me, I'm not common, you can ask my creator.
Friday, May 27, 2011
I felt like chuckin' it in, an hour, or so, ago,
not life, you mug, but something near as sweet,
trying to clip my toe-nails, over a gut that's spread a bit,
so as not to rip the bed sheets, with my bloomin' feet!
It's true you know, you spread a bit, as you get slowly older,
the shoes hurt more, my belt has shrunk, my shirts fit someone else,
I can't remember when I had a cuddle that wasn't colder,
than a polar bear's backside on an ice floe, in Alaska.
Cooking dinner is the pits, I rarely strive to please,
and no-one's here to check my plate, shows balance, or expertise.
It might be canned, it might be fresh, depends on how I feel,
but rest assured it won't be me, who makes those saucepans squeal.
There's bloody nothing on the Teev, and there's channels I've never heard of,
Eleven this, and HD that, but nothing worth a look.
And then the program guide gets it wrong, and I have to look again,
to settle in and watch a show, that's sure to wreck my brain!
So, it's off to bed at half-past twelve, after checking my computer,
this tiny thing is flamin' small, and grossly over-rated.
It was bought in Thailand, years ago, by my wife who's since vacated,
if I had a quid, I'd track her down, and get someone to boot her.
Well, that's a day in the life of me, you wouldn't want to share it,
if it was a sheet of finest silk, you'd try hard not to tear it,
but, tear it will, and fray right 'round, and I did forget to mention,
Tomorrow's just the bloody same, 'cause I'm on a paltry Pension!
Monday, April 25, 2011
They were boys, clean-faced, young amongst the old
unshaven, bronzed, some recklessly bold.
They came from bush and cities, in a land downunder
and gritted teeth at the battle's thunder.
Any thoughts of glamour soon eroded, dispersed,
the truth of conflict, bloodshed, profanities versed.
Slouch hat here, disgarded gun there,
half a man, blown apart, fighting-off despair.
They volunteered to fight for country,
in a war they'd only heard about.
Little was expected of them, except
stand and defend, and give them clout.
They fought in places known from maps,
alongside blokes who were great chaps.
friendships were forged, as best they could,
and side by side, they fell, or stood.
They called them ANZAC, strange name that
a name we remember well, with pride.
They are celebrated in every home and town
contribution ne'er forgotten, and ne'er decried.
We'll never know what it was like for them,
in trenches filled with men and mud.
But, the character of these heroes, these men,
is aspired to by one and all, lest we forget, amen.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
It's only been two hundred years, since settlement took place,
at Port Jackson, (Sydney Town), by the third King Georgie's grace.
Arthur Phillip sailed his boats away, from England, dark blue seas,
a few wealthy adventurers, eight hundred convicts at their knees.
The Brits decided years ago, to move their troubles south,
thanks to Cook, for finding it, New Holland grew a mouth.
It ate up all the convicts, that Britain could provide,
for construction work, and other things, and many of them died.
It didn't take much to qualify, for membership tag - 'First Fleet',
a loaf of bread, a sixpence nicked, or a Lady of the street.
Of course there were the paid-for berths, which carried an 'upper-cruster',
the likes of which built everything, bred sheep to shear at muster.
We grew to fame and fortune, and now we're number one,
a land of droughts and flooding rains, under Australian sun.
We've raised our little cities, and bred without much thought
our population eclectic, now, from worldly places sought.
We've learned to sell our treasures, to countries near and far,
I remember well, when my Dad bought, his first 'Australian' car.
I remember, too, going to school, with kids from everywhere,
like Poland, Latvia, Switzerland, Ukraine and even Eire.
So what do we celebrate, today, on this January 26th,
is it all that came before us, that gregarious national mix?
I'd like to think it's the future, which now seems so assured,
assimilate together, differences and angers - memory blurred.
Australia Day means so much more, when we think of who we are,
we don't regret our heritage, those countries from afar.
Those cultures build our character, they make us true and strong
so it's a party mate, 'Downunder', and I'm glad that I belong.