Saturday, 14 December 2013

My Early Wish.

To my Blogger friends 

Today I went down the street,
I searched high and I searched low,
There was hardly a place I didn't go,
Imagine the shock I got,
When I entered that final shop,
And there it was the card for me, 
I'm sure no other card will do, 
So this is what I'd like to share with you.

Have a Magical Merry Christmas from me to you, including all your families too. 
Where ever you are, whatever you do, 
In this world be true! then happiness will come and find you,

Wishing you all out there a Happy Christmas.


Partly Truth and Partly Fiction

Around :1899
South Africa.

This is the story of a deeply religious farm boy,
who found it confusing and against his inner feelings when he was told that it was OK to kill British people,
by his religious leaders,
so he went and did his duty as he saw it,
with Strong reservations, deep down he thought it was wrong to kill any person, for what ever reason, and this became one of his demons that troubled him.When he did his duty as he saw it.

The Freedom wars between the British war machine  and the African Boer.

When the British government realised that south Africa was awash, with great quantities of all the main valuables of the known, world, (Gold, Diamond's, coal, and millions of acres of good farming land with Timber and cattle.) They decided to annex it into their Empire, by what ever means possible, before too many of the other world leaders got in on the act.

Of course this piece of history will not be shown in this context in the UK, history books, surprise! surprise!
We are all aware that history is written by the Victors.

Thursday, 12 December 2013


 I sit around and wait and see if the power in the Morphine,  will set me free, from my pain, giving me a chance to look and see the day again.


Wednesday, 11 December 2013

Do you see me? as a threat to you?

Well today I can safely say,
A miracle happened to come my way,

I was sitting having coffee,
Whilst a lady with her baby,
was sitting close to me,
She was feeding her baby with a bottle, who was sitting on her  knee,

She rolled backwards and looked at me and I smiled she was so lovely,
Dark eyes and short black hair with such a lovely smile to share.

But when her mother looked at me, I saw the fear in her eyes.
As if I threatened her and her child,
Just because she believed something that had been said to her.
About old boys like me?

I left the Coffee shop and went out and sat on a chair in the street.
I was sad really, this is not the way its meant to be.

I have always thought that children and elderly members of our society would benefit from contact with each other, and it being totally normal.
It's a good and healthy, and they can see our wrinkles and glasses and grey hair, but they don't really care, it's just a little adventure for them to share. Identifying with older folk.
Many children are traumatised by their parents in regards to old folk. by what they are told to expect from us. Strangers!

Do you see me,? as you walk pass me in the street?
As I sit lonely upon a seat.
As some old man your children may like to greet, but forbidden by you to even speak,

Or I do you see me as someone, who may be a threat to you and your family? and shun me, as you walk past me in the street,
as you do!
It's as if I'm not sitting on a seat in the street.

The ugly scars you see on me, true that may frighten you!
I received when fighting for my country.
Something you don't seem to want to hear or see?

Many men just like me, willingly died in battle.
Just so you and our families could be free,
and now no-one wants to talk to me,
for some reason? I cannot see!
Society wants you, to forget about me.

The lady from the Coffee shop came out and sat with me and let me hold her baby, and we had a little chat, so that was a win for me.
Giving meaning to my day, you see.

So next time your walking down the street and see an ole boy sitting in a seat,
smile and say hallo. make his day.before you walk away.


Tuesday, 10 December 2013

A visiter to my garden

 In my Garden.  

 Good morning!

You know how people sometimes remark that you're walking around with your head in the clouds?
Unable to see the wonders of the world that surround you!

Well I'm a wee bit guilty of this, let me explain?

This summer has been a real sailing summer for me and I have been out on my boat as much as I could ever be,
only coming home to  cut the lawns and clear up a bit.

I'd spend an hour in the shower washing the stink of smelly clothes off of me.
Then I was off to sea again, as happy as can be.
I never noticed anything strange around me when I was home?

But the last time, near the end of summer.
I came home and sat out my back at my wee pool,
I had that feeling that something just wasn't right,
so I got up and started to look about my garden! it all seem to be in order,
until I went around my front and saw this plant.
There it was.
Standing like a proud Prince expecting the whole world to bow down and pay homage to it's beauty.
It was in a pot surrounded by Heather and Gorse.
I must have walked passed it a number of time and I didn't notice it!
I'm sure if it could speak,it would have shouted at me to to look and see, the wonder of nature it was showing to me.

I received the plant from my daughter in law and in truth I didn't like it,
I had it for 12 years, never a flower?

Every time I got to close to it, I got prodded by it's sharp barbs,
I always gave it a wide berth and had more than once decided to introduce it to the bin,
which I never did?
but I know in my heart of hearts, it didn't like me.
Now there it was, proudly challenging me, with it's unbelievable beauty,
As if to say "look what I have produced? what have you done that can compare? with my beauty.

That makes you stop and stare.

It's so true, I did stare at it beauty and it's proud stand there,
I couldn't believe I walked past it ? without seeing it growing there.

Then I watered it every night and after six weeks it just blew away,
I wonder if it will ever come back, and revisit me some day.


Monday, 25 November 2013

I'm Just A Man Like You?I


A Wee Poem.
I believe It was written by;

Harry Morris.

An ex policeman.

Watch out there's a copper about

I have been where you fear to be,
I have seen what you fear to see,
I have done things what you fear to do,
All these things, I have done for you.

I am the man you lean upon,
The man you cast your scorn upon,
The man you bring your troubles to,
All these men, I have been to you,
The man you ask to stand apart,
The man you feel should have no heart,

The man you call the "man in blue",
But I'm just a man, just like you,
And through the years, I've come to see,
I'm not what you ask of me.

So take these handcuffs and this baton,
Will you take it? Will anyone?
And when you watch a person die,
And hear a battered baby cry,
Then do you think that you can be,
All the things you ask of me?

I'm just a man like you.

Didn't he do well? He's certainly got my vote.


Tuesday, 19 November 2013

A Veteran Died today

Go getem Digger.

This just dropped into my e-mail
No name attached to it
I believe it's worth a read.

What do you think?

He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
He sat around the legion, telling stories of the past.

Of a war he once fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies,they were heroes every one.

'Tho sometimes to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
his buddies listened quietly for they knew of where he spoke.

But we'll hear his tales no longer, for ole Joe has passed away,
the world's a little poorer for a Veteran died today.

He won't be mourned by many, just his children and his wife.
For he lived an ordinary, quiet sort of life.

He held a job and raised a family, going quietly on his way;
The world won't note his passing, 'tho a veteran died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing, proclaiming they were great.

Papers tell of their life stories from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a Veteran goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land.
Someone who breaks his promises deceiving his fellow man?

Or the ordinary fellow who in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his country and offers up his life?

The politician's stipend and the style in which he lives,
are often disproportionate,to the service that he gives.

While the ordinary Veteran, who offered up his all,
Is paid off  with a medal and perhaps a pension, small?

Is it not the politicians with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom our country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger,with your enemies at hand,
Would you really want some-cop out, with his ever-waffling hand?

Or would you want a Veteran, his home his country, his kin
Just a common Veteran, who will fight until the end.

He was just a common Veteran and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us, we may need for men like him.

For when counties are in conflict, we find the Veterans part,
Is to clean up all the troubles  that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honour while he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least lets give him homage at the ending of his days.

Perhaps just a simple headline, in the paper that might say.

"Our Country is in morning a Veteran died today"

This of course could speak to every country in the world.
I don't know where it's from or who wrote it?
I would bet my last cheese and pickle sandwich it was written in Australia, but I don't really know, just let me say;
I am proud of our Veterans each and every one, in all countries of the world.

Well Digger! let  me say, you're a veteran! what more is there to say.

"With the going down of the sun we will remember you" Digger.

Did't they do well?


Friday, 15 November 2013

When John Awoke

This piece is written by:

Clive Sanders.

A British soldier.

John Woke Up Cozy.

John woke up so cozy, in his comfortable bed.
He smiled as he nodded, when his loving wife said,
"Would you like some toast with a nice cup of tea?
Then keep yourself warm I'm not leaving 'til three."
John pulled up the duvet, and heard his young son,
Tell his wife that he needed, a clean shirt to put on.
John thought that he'd better, get up and help Peg,
So he reached out with his arm, for his prosthetic leg.

It was always an effort, that filled him with dread,
To secure his prosthetic, if a blister had bled.
He thought as he struggled, to pull his leg free,
" This would be so much easier, if only I could see."
For John had been wounded, by a Taliban gun,
His memory was blind, of that day in the sun,
When a shell landed close, to a black powder keg,
And he had been blinded and lost his right leg.

John did have some days, when the thought filled his head,
That his life was worth nothing; he'd be better off dead.
He would plan how to pay, that most terrible fee,
To end all the suffering, of his whole family.
But he always comes back, to the fact number one.
That his loved one's would suffer, if the foul deed were done.
Then he'd always cheer up, when his son home arrived,
And John smiled as he thought, I'm so glad I'm alive.
Clive Sanders.
This brings back a memory of a Medy-vac Chopper Pilot,
I recovered one night in Vietnam, similar wounds! unfortunately he didn't  make it. His call sign was "Wolfman" from Texas.

So I remember you: " Wolfman" you saved many lives with that chopper and I'm sure they all remember you.
Your memory lives on.


Thursday, 14 November 2013

A letter From you.

you wrote me a Letter.

I wish I had not received the letter you wrote,
For it saddened me and my spirit it broke.
Sending me to that gloomy melancholy place.

I was under your spell,
When you told me on that fateful day, you just told me to "go away", you  said "you no longer loved me any more."

That stake you drove into me, took many years to set me free,
I ran away, to where the lonely go! drifting and waiting, for the pain to go away.
It never did! don't you see?

So please? don't write any more letters to me.

I feel your hurt and all your pain,
But please? I cannot let my mind go to that place again.

When I read your words you wrote again,
My mind conjures up sad images, deep within your pain.

But I have to hold on to my sanity,
or I will sink into the gloom and that is something,
I truly do not want to do.

This is such a sad letter ? I have no words to make it better.
But I would say this to you.

Don't sit there and be sad!
just pick up your bag and walk or run, take a bus or train, ride a bike it's all the same.

You must escape from your sadness,
leave it far behind, and go to that happy place, deep within your own mind.

When you find that happy place!
call me and let me know? that you are free and no longer have a need of me,
Then I will also be set free.

Your sad letter I will burn this very day, so the sadness,
will be destroyed and not get away .

Yes that's what I think I will do,
when I become lonely and sad, just like you.
So please Princess set me free ?

Write no more letters to me.


Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Look? 10,000 years into the future of our planet

10,000 years from today.

A space ship is approaching our planet full of aliens who have been travelling for a 100 years or more, in our time, from their Galaxy to ours.

They are explores and greatly admire the beauty of our blue planet.

Well it used to be ours? before we blew it all away.

As they get nearer they scan our planet for intelligent life?
but I'm sorry to say? they will only get readings of an unbelievable variety of plant and animal life,
Time has reborn our planet, back to the days we first crawled out of the water and developed into mankind.
A new start for Planet Earth. But not us?

Their scans will not cross the thousands of years since we passed away into time.
They will not show them how we destroyed ourselves with no trust, only greed and a refusal to share improvements and the wealth of the world.
Selling weapons of destruction that eventually! we used against each other causing our own demise from the very surface of our own planet Earth.
It's a shame I know,
But no scans will ever show,
Any trace of a living mankind.

Otherwise we would also? well possible?  be exploring the galaxies.
There is every possibility? that we would be on a technically level with these travellers? even be on a friendly basis with them and other members of the Galaxies.

But no!  there is no sign of us? or our society, all our buildings, books, all overgrown and gone crumbled away in time, a couple of thousand years ago.
There will be no record of the horrors we inflicted on each other during our final days.

The travellers may find some signs of our society and I'm sure it will be a mystery to them? as it is to me? as to what happened to us, on such a beautiful and bountiful planet? We were just so Crazy.

A greedy stupid society destroyed by a self inflicted wound, our inability to look far into our planets future, before making most of the decisions that caused our end.

Our Arts, Our Loves, Our music, books! our technical advances, medicine? and all our memories!  all gone.

If these visitors walk on this new planet.
They may hear a faint, ghostly, requiem, pass them bye.
A lonely piano composition of an old timeless Irish tune.
"Oh Danny Boy" A harmonic connection within us,
A sad memory ? refusing to leave and pass on into eternity.

I'm sure they will not understand.

Mankind has gone? he ceases to be, he couldn't see his own tragedy.

I was going to call this blog "Look? 10.000 years into our future"
But as you can see, there is no future for you and me.

It may be a strange thing to say, but do you think we may have done this before? and learned nothing!

Agman. year: 4514.

Friday, 1 November 2013

There's a Fire Coming ?

This is a story of one day in the cockpit with a fire-bombing pilot.
So sit and buckle up, this could be the ride of your life!

Place: Natal South Africa.

Aircraft: Turbo thrush PT6

I have just got airborne from my strip in Natal, and I'm on my way to a fire just 50 Kilometres north.
As I call "Agmans airborne" the spotter plane calls me with a heading, enabling me to fly straight to the strip,
I'm climbing over thousands of hectares of Forrest, home of the Leopard and his prey the Dik Dik.
About 15 minutes out now and the fire doesn't look too bad, not much smoke!
Not a completely true indication, when the wind gets up it could be an other story laced in horror.

It's time for me to tighten up my body harness and clip on my bone dome strap, saves me getting tossed about in the turbulence of the fire, too much that is?

Monday, 28 October 2013

The Scarred Wounded Man.

And So The Day Begins.

I picked up this poem on the web.

It is by a Brit.
Clive Sanders.

They said it was wrong to fight in the war,
It must stop now with killing no more.
Give peace a chance, let god us adore,
Man is not bad, let love be the cure.

So a truce was agreed by the powerful men,
That let them re-arm, while the world said Amen.
Til a Maniac's bomb exploded and then
the fighting and dying started over again.

And the world shook its head and said we deplore
The hatred and violence that we all abhor.
If powerful men can't bring in a law.
What on earth can be done to finish the war.

Then the General said, "You must give me the men
Who are ready to fight any where, any when.
And support them you must, it's the sword not the pen,
That will finish the war and make peace again."

It's the boot on the ground that ends the war.
It's the man with a gun that evens the score.
It's the scarred wounded man,just his family adore,
Who will end the killing and justice restore,

By Clive Sanders.

Didn't he do well.


Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Uncle Tom

post: 2 class
date: 19 November    
Year: 1964.
Cost   5d  ( 5 cents)
Yes a long time ago?

This is a letter that I received from a friend of mine in Hobart Tasmania  

I always knew him
as Uncle Tom.
but in fact his name was
Edward Stanford.
Aged 80 years  approx

I was first introduced to Uncle Tom by my girlfriend, I believe
he was her uncle and he lived in a converted garage on the corner of her fathers property.

When I would go and visit I made a point of looking out for him,because I found him interesting to talk to, also from our first hand shake, he was my friend.

Often Josephine would ask "what we talked about?" and I always smiled and said "the mountain," and he did at times, Mt Wellington dominates the city of Hobart, a grand sight with it's organ pipes stretching up to 4000 feet.

Over the 8 months I was posted to Hobart I had many talks with Uncle Tom.
He spent his whole life on a farm outside of Hobart, he was a small man who wore baggy trousers with straps as well as a waist belt, and boots, always wore a trilby hat on his head and always had a smile on his face which was white and his nose was pink with a twinkle in his eye.

His life long dream was to drive a tractor, which at the age of 67 years he realised and loved it.
One day I asked if he had ever been married, he looked down and said "no" and went quite.
I changed the subject to tractors, I could see it was not an easy subject for him.

When I left Tasmania we wrote a few letters to each other, his were not unlike this one, which I kept.
I also put two of them in a bottle and threw them over the side of my yacht whilst crossing the Irish sea.

They were so personal; A pouring out of his emotions, Pulling at the strings of my heart, to hear an old man's pain.
It was possible the first time I realised how hurt he felt.
He wrote of his lady, gently always in a quite way,
saying how much he loved her, but was too shy to talk to her, so he lost her.
How he witnessed her getting married in the local church in his village,
and how he nearly went crazy in his grief, wanting to take his own life! blaming himself  for losing his love because he was too shy.

Later in their lives they became good friends and they had many a good chats in the village and he came to terms with his life.
She never knew.

I don't remember what I wrote back, I tried to keep him up to date with the aeroplanes I was flying and what we were doing with them as he had showed a lot of interest in them, well as always in these things our letters stopped, I reckon he must have died.

I landed in Hobart a few years later and went looking for Uncle Tom and Josephine and her family,
story from a neighbour was that the men had died and Josephine and her mother had gone to Melbourne.
So that's the end of Uncle Toms story,
it may be of no interest to other people, I just wanted to remember him.
For his epitaph I would just like to say.

"He was a good and kind,honest man, who I called friend".


Sunday, 20 October 2013

Isn't it Daft!


I learned a new word this week, 

I don't know why it passed me bye,
I can't remember meeting it before,
It certainly has never knocked upon my door,
Of course to my dictionary I did run, 
reading it through I found the word was true,
The word that I'm eluding to is "Daft"
I must of course thank my blogger friend, 
for giving me a new word to spend.
The bloggers name is not for me to say, 
but in her picture you will see, the clue to the blogger,
who was good to me.
Daft:   mad, crazy, foolish, stupid and silly and other things.

A Dafty I may be, so be gentle when you think of me.


Friday, 18 October 2013

Unless you've been a soldier

I picked this up on Google +
thought it was worth a posting. 

I do believe our lads don't get the support their due, after what is asked of them to do in our names.

A poignant word or two about our brave soldiers.

 Clive Sanders.

If you call my name I will stand two.


Wednesday, 16 October 2013

Caught short in the land of the Pharaohs

Place :    Egypt.
              Nile Delta.

Aircraft:  Turbo Thrush.

Duty:        Crop Spraying

This is the short story about a wee 15 minute incident

It's mid morning, temperature is around 85F to 95F degrees  and the relative humidity is high as always in the mornings on the delta.

The heat haze is such that we navigate from minaret to minaret that stick up in the haze and we are able to fly from village to village using them, in the poor visibility.

Every now and again I would pull up out of the haze and look around to see if any other aircraft are in my zone.
The haze is about 200 feet thick and you can easily, see down through it from 200 hundred feet above it, the danger of collision, are very real in haze,

we are all flying around at about the same height  at 150 mph, so one must be careful. don't you agree?  

Okay lets get back to my true but humorous event?

I'm on my way back to my strip.

When that familiar moving pain, started to move about in my tummy, expanding probing about, for an outlet!

I knew that if I didn't land right now! I was going to poop my pants in a right royal style?

I was aware that a strip was just in front of me,
so I pushed the prop into full fine killing the forward speed, as she came under 100 mph! I dropped the flaps, she tried to rear up on me as the speed dropped off and I held the nose down to keep flying speed.

I saw the strip off to my left and side sliped over to it.
If for some reason I can't land here? and have to return to my strip, to put it crudely, I will be in deep shit. excuse the pun?

As I came over the end of the strip at around about 12 feet, I slip the prop into reverse pitch, by the time I contacted the ground I was stopped,

I stepped on the brakes just to create a wee bump mark in front of the main wheels, which would stop her rolling, if she decided to? then it was brakes on and locked,
Oh! I'm not going to make it? better run.

I jumped out of the aircraft, wet wipes in hand! pulling all my zips on my flight suit and ripping it off!
by the time I squatted down in the corn crop I was down to my boxers and a T shirt and flight boots.

Of course everything happened right there and then.
I'd made it! no problems?

In fact after a minute or two as I cleansed myself, a feeling of well being came over me, as I squatted there in the cool of the canopy of the corn leaves, feeling quite smug with myself.

Then I took my first look about and there! not more than 10 feet away sat an Arab women pulling weeds out of the crop, she just seemed to ignore me.
I turned away and pulled my kit on again, I do believe I was blushing profusely,  well anyway My cheeks felt hot.

As I went to walk away I placed some Egypt money on a plant in plain sight  and as our eyes met again I thought I saw the hint of a smile in those big brown eyes.

I just hurried away and got back on board and flew back to my strip.

end of story.

Way to go! wet wipes!

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

Good Ole Cup of Tea

molly Brett

A lady in the bookshop said to me.
"You canna beat a good cup of tea,"

You can have it  weak or have it strong,
It doesn't matter what's gone wrong,
Tea will fix with a song.

In the bookshop I could see all the ladies drinking tea,
So that's when I started, drinking tea?

So here I sit in my chair drinking tea,
Not being able to stop you see.

Because now, I'm addicted to this blasted tea


Friday, 27 September 2013

Missouri Girl Scouts

                          Time for a change

Missouri Girl Scouts,
Fight for their camp in Latonka Missouri.

M. R. Hunter a well know author  after seeing some news paper reports in
the Albion New Era,
Churubusco News,
And the Northwest Press and as it was close to home,  he  decided to write his post, by way of protest on behalf of his wife (a former scout) and to gain support for a congressional enquiry.
They only need another 300 odd votes to force the enquiry.
I'm not confident that by the time it get's to an enquiry! the Girl Scouts Board of Headland Directors will not have had their wicked way! We will see?
I am sure they are fully expecting a bit of bad press and I'm sure their attitude is. It will blow over after a few days and they will carry on.
For the life of me, I just don't know why there is not more protest votes, there really should be millions.
It gives the impression that we don't really care that much, but we do.
We must show that we do care about this dastardly act.
Which attacks our basic democratic rights and way of life to live our own lives  and not be under minded by this group.
Who are using their position of trust covertly against us, for their own selfish reasons. Please read the blog.
I believe this is the thin end of the wedge, driven home by greed and selfishness.

Far too much of this type of thing is going on in the western world. The time of change is upon us, we must stand to and fend off this attack on our rights and way of life.
The fact that it needs so many votes before it gets noticed is amazing, I would have thought any honest politician worth his salt would be shouting for justice, which is what he is paid for, it's his job.
Well now what to do?
Well really, the truth is I don't know.
I wish I had some magic formulae that would make us trust our political leaders to do something on their own, but I haven't.

I know here in the UK we had a internet led confrontation with our politicians,  over their fiddling of their expenses and I would say it was a success, not 100% but a win all the same, some lost their jobs some went to jail, and a few paid back the money (they fiddled).
But not one admitted he was wrong, but taking into account what the bankers did! and none of them were prosecuted and they kept their ill gotten money.
It was a small win against the politicians.

So they say "The Pen is Mightier than the Sword"
So lets put it to the test, let's all us bloggers send a blog on this subject with our views to all our councils, public servants departments, Unions, and celebrities and our politicians all over the world, let them know that we do care about this and expect them to care as well.

What I'm saying is, place it firmly in their minds and on their tongues, letting them know our feelings on this matter.

A few of our more talented Internet friends, may find out more information, that could make these law breakers think twice about their actions and it just may turn up a few whistle blowers.

I picked up my info for this blog from  a blog of great integrity.
So I ask you to tell your friends, to use the internet and the social networking sites to spread the word, if you agree.

My dream is of a place and time where
America will once again be seen as the
best hope of earth.
A.B. Lincoln.

Let our politicians take trust out of the dictionary and cultivate it.


Thursday, 26 September 2013

Comment From A Poet

When I wrote my blog "Grim Reaper" last week felt I should edit it, straight away,
but then I never got around to it, lazy me. So it was no real surprise to me that a couple of comments were a bit hostile and vulgar so I binned them, but I apologise to them, we all have our own ideas.
I would like to mention a comment I received from Donna Yates of
"D.M.Y. Believing yourself" an outstanding blog,by the way.
She is very generous lady with her advice and her poetry and books are all good reading and I would recommend them to anybody, anyway back to my plot!

Donna's comment; She doesn't like to think of meeting the Grim Reaper.
But would rather think of somebody who loves her from the other side that would come and escort her home.

What a great line, it says it all.
What a great comfort it will be to so many people,

My little fairy was meant to imply this as well, but I just couldn't find the word's.
I'm sure she was waiting for me to smile and say I'm ready for you to take me away. maybe I'll tac this on the end of my blog?

Donna is doing a guest visit to  today,
all about budgeting and spending for authors, so pop and have a visit, you'll not be disappointed.

I have no more words left that I can say so I will leave you with.


be well Agman

Monday, 23 September 2013

Dark Sunglasses

Because, they hide those lines that betray my age.
and silence everything my eyes have to say.

Because, through dark sunglasses clouds appear defined,
and no-one need know, the Sky occupies my mind.

Because I get to read you and the life you lead,
An anonymous spy fulfilling an unspoken need.

Because in the watching of you and all that I see,
I hope no more , than to discover a little of me.


Saturday, 14 September 2013

Writers Regret

Molly Brett

Late last night,
I lay in bed,
Reading stories in my head.
Is that true of you?
Do you jump out of bed and write them down straight from your head?
or do  you just lay on and forget and in the morning, be full of regret?
Oh dear, me too.

Could it be the writer or poets curse,
To get up at night to write  down a wee verse,
that just won't seem to go away, unless
it's written down straight away.

be well Agman.

Tuesday, 10 September 2013

The Grim Reaper ( you never know when you are called to go)

Jess at "The Secret DMS files of Fairday Morrow".
made a comment on one of my blogs,

She said "you never know when your time may be up"
Which got me thinking? It's so true! so this ones down to you, Jess!

The "Grand Reaper" or the "Grim reaper" or the "Dark Angel"! or whatever! take your pick, What about "Anubis"?  I'm sure there are more names for the last person we ever speak to, assuming we do get to speak?

I wonder who he works for? who's side he's on? does he
even have side?
Or does he just wait for your time to run out, lurking, waiting, hanging about.

He can come at any time?  day or night, any-time at all,
I'm sure he will give us all a fright, when he says, "times up"! "Say goodnight? "  "lets go"  "your dead"." "come now, we must be on our way." I haven't got all day.

Now I believe you must have a plan of what you will do,
when you meet the man.
Now I know my plan didn't work so well on my blog
"The Pearly Gates" so I've had to change my plan a bit.
So here's my latest update to it.

Now I fully expect to meet the Grim Reaper one day or night?
if he comes to me at night and stands at the end of my bed.
Then this is what I hope I would have said.

Lord!  Please don't take me today? I'm not ready to go away?
Don't make me leave a sweet memory behind,
My lady has no part in my crime.
Please let me go and see my lady once more and make things right? and let me say I'm sorry, for leaving and slamming the door,
give me that chance ? to go away with the taste of her name upon my lips? for she is my favourite memory of all.
Given by you I do recall.

And I will never see her again, before you send me away into that dark, bottomless pit with hells everlasting fire at the bottom of it.

Lord ? Who is this dark malevolent messenger of yours? standing close by at the head of my bed?
Who rips away the bond between me and my soul.

Ending the wanderings of my ways, stopping the stories of my days.
I don't know which way to turn to run away, my secrets will be untold and just like me, fade away in memory.
So this will be my last farewell, for I am surely off to hell.

Lord: After all the wrong I did to thee,
I know you will never let me be free,
because I committed that terrible sin.
Your commandments I broke and let slip away.
What's done cannot be undone? It's too late for me.
Your heaven is a place I will never see.

So when I die? and the reaper comes to take me away.
One grace I would ask of thee,
Bury me high up in the sky, so I can again learn how to fly.
If this is too much I ask of thee?
Bury me high upon a hill, beneath a tree over-looking the sea,
where the flowers grow and bloom each year,
and the sound of the sea will be sweet to my ear.

Lord ! If this is not in your plan for me? you could just leave me on the shore, the tide will come and wash me away,
a happy soul I will be, for at last I will be, all at sea.

Please? Lord? I beg of thee, forgive me? don't send me to that dark place? where I cannot see.
For in death I am fearful of eternity, a place where one cannot see.
It's too late to call back yesterday, all my friends have passed away.
Please? Lord I'm pleading with thee? don't do this to me, I'm sorry, can't you see?

Lord what can I say? what can I do?
I'm just a man made by you.

For me! today is my worst day, for the day of reckoning is here and I am shaking within my fear,
listening to the winds of time, as it blows me away from here.

It would seem I have to go and leave thee.
For I see a little fairy waits for me, to smile and say, "I'm ready for her to take me away"
To her realm of fantasy where all the fairies wait for me and the Queen of all the fairies, will forgive me?

I thank you Lord for listening to my plea?
and keeping the reaper away from me.

Think Kindly of me lord


Friday, 6 September 2013

My Birthday

An old friend

It's a couple of days past my birthday, and I have had no word or contact from my brother Michael, which for me is  strange as we have always been close, regardless of where I am in the world Michael is my rock.
Plus we are both not young men,
So I'm sure the Grand reaper has our names in his book? so we live with this.

I'm in the shower when I heard the postman on my drive, so I climbed dripping wet from the shower and sneaked quietly towards the mail door, as the mail drops through the door I grab it. it's from my brother, "thank you lord! happiness !"

I place it on the hall table and return to the shower feeling happy.
As I pass the full length mirror, I caught my reflection in it, at first "I thought who is that old boy"?
Then I noticed my body had more scars then I realised, how the hell am I still alive?
Golly when I get to the pearly gates I'm sure I will be asked, "what the hell did I do to the perfectly nice, unmarked body, I was issued with at the start of my life"?
I'm sure I will find and give a cheeky answer, before being sent away again.
So I just went back and into the shower.
I have the pleasure of reading my mail after.

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving at the pearly gates, in an attractive and well preserved body.
But to slide sideways into heaven with a box of chocolates in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other hand, body thoroughly used up,and totally worn out, and screaming Wow what a ride!

so that's what happened to me today, how was your day?

Be Well.

Saturday, 17 August 2013

A wee Mystery? Crop Circles

PA25 260hp
The web Site:
The secret D.M.S. files of Fairday morrow.
Has many things I enjoy,
it's creative and leaves you thinking, and that's got to be good, right?
So of course I follow it. See for yourself? visit their site, you will not be disappointed.

This weeks theme was about crop circles, so I just thought I would mention what I saw in the late 1970.

I was flying along at 1000 feet on my way to a weed spraying job.
I was over the wheat country of central Victoria, around 150 miles north of Melbourne. and seventy miles east of the Hume highway, no roads to speak of, just dirt tracks.

So you can tell I wasn't really in striking distance of the crop circle promoters.
I had wheat all around me for at least 50 miles, when I noticed a mark on the wheat about 6 miles in front of me.
As I approached it it grew larger and as I flew over it, I saw it was a crop circle.

Now it was the first time I had seen one, but I had read about them in the newspapers, how they were seen a lot in Europe.
Of course our little green men! were getting all the blame?

So just to be nosey I flew a lazy turn around the field, it was at least 20 acres in size and it was at least a quarter of a mile from a small dirt road, and there was no see-able spoor of anybody or anything being in the field or surrounding fields.
This circle was a bit rough, not a bit like the ones being reported in Europe, with their lovely geometric designs,
I was confident that no man had a hand in this or had been in the field.

It was a sort of a circle with a tuft of wheat standing up in the middle, I decided it was storm damage, created by the funnel that drops from the leading edge of a thunder cloud ( A tornado if you like) and returns back from whence it came creating no more damage.
So I flew on to my next job and forgot about it, until now.

A few years later I was lucky enough to see some proper ones, in Southern England during a spraying season,
and after observing them from the air.
I am again confident in the knowledge that they are man made, their spoor was easy to see from the air to the trained observers eye, they all seemed to be close to main roads and strange as it may seem they were also given a fair bit of news cover?

So my verdict is that the wee green man is innocent of interfering in our crops after flying millions of light years to get hear!

What do you reckon?


Friday, 9 August 2013

Is this stealing ?

Callair A9A
I am aware that more than a few people who read my blog.
May think I have a strange outlook on life and they may very well be right.
A short while ago I wrote a blog about DNA and what it may or not, end up being used for.
It was for me a good subject, but an never ending story.

Well the other day I picked up on a story, where  genetic Scientists are gathering DNA samples from the streets and analysing them, Cigarette, tissues, old cloths,and  glasses, that sort of thing, call it detritus from the street if you will.

But from these samples! there is a chance that they may be able to create a facial reconstruction! based on the analysis of the DNA,
that scientist have recovered from their collecting of street rubbish.

The mind boggles to think! you could be recognised from a piece of paper or cigarette end?
As  Genetic surveillance really swings into gear, even a picture of you, with a fine for littering! could surface ? how do you like those apples?

Commercial testing clinics will spring up all over the place and will test any object with a human DNA sample on it, for a unimaginable amount of things, as long as you can pay.

The company you work for would most certainly expect your DNA profile to be a part of your employment agreement.

You could in secret?  be able to take a sample and have it tested to check if your partner has been unfaithful?
Even have a paternity test?
Or test if you or your partner are  Genetically susceptibility to serious disease.
The permutations are endless for the human race.

Of course there are new laws being made all over the world to try and take some sort of control over this technology!
I say; Good luck with that.
This genetic material being gathered up in the streets has no names attached, to get permission! from for it's use, of their DNA?
A problem for the law.

In my humble opinion, I say! by the time the law catches up with this run away technology! and that's assuming it wants too, most of our entire genome sequence will have been gathered without our knowledge.
I think it goes without saying that the positives in this, far outweigh the negatives, but it still leaves a taste in my mouth and really its comes down to trust. Can we really trust them?

Now for my Question:

Now I consider myself a collector of unsigned notes, poems, terms of endearment, all left in books,  love notes and all many of inscriptions and rhymes, when I delve into my collection they give me great joy to read, make me feel very sad at times, allowing me an insight into their world an other time, believing I'm doing no harm.

I used to collect them by going to second hand book shops, looking and searching through the books. But now it's all changed technology!
"the mobile phone" has made me a wringing phone addict.
It doesn't matter where I am?
Now if I hear the sound of a mobile, I turn and look and my mind records the start and the finish of the call and the expression on their faces.
I see the opening smile, the brightness in their eyes, that is there, as soon as the person realises who's on the line, then the wringing off, the deep breath taken with deep never ending knowing personal  smile.
I think of it as the promise of what's to come, which stays long after the phone is put away.
There are so many different types of permutations to these calls,
not all are personal.
But you do see the person as they really are, they have no reason to hide their feelings, as they believe nobody is looking at them.

Leaves me wondering what was said to create such a response.
I collect them as memories and place them in my diary with my other collection and I remember the moment!
I am  reminded and pleased how we humans can be so personally loving towards each other, and that's what I enjoy to see.

So here we go to the moment of true:

Am I stealing these memories and thoughts? is it wrong? should the memories of these thoughts, be lost forever?
Should I stop? Am I an anonymous spy filling my own needs.

Perhaps thunder is the sound of god slapping his head in disbelief.


Friday, 2 August 2013

Love Honour and Respect

         The lower end of the audience.

I borrowed this poetry, so we could all see the talent that shines within her poems, there for us all to see .

I used to go a'wandering.

I used to go a'wandering
across mystic lands so green
to visit with sweet faeries
and drink sweet tea with their Queen.

I used to go a'wandering
through enchanted meadows fair
to spend delightful days dancing
in the magical creatures square.

No longer can I traipse about
tho' I do remember those times
and the merriment I enjoyed
including making silly rhymes.

Written by Donna Yates.

and can be found in her book of poems;
Stepping Stones to Love Honour and Respect.

I recommend you rush of to amazon and get a copy as I'm about to do.
I just love this poem Donna I'm sure the rest will be  my treat.

Thank you.

Thursday, 1 August 2013

School days.

Play yard

School day's.


Pinch punch first day of the month and no returns!

A Pinch and a kick for being so quick, no returns please!

Remember?  I do.


Wednesday, 31 July 2013

Sitting on my seat.

I was sitting on my garden seat, daydreaming as I do, thinking of starting the lawn mower or not!
Maybe I'll do it tomorrow? maybe I'll just have a wee kip?
When around the corner comes a friend of mine Ray Saying "You have no time to stand and stare" I reckon he was relating to the garden tools laying about and me sitting in the chair, anyway after a wee crack he departed, leaving me thinking about his opening words .
Then it dawned on me and I decided to share.

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep and cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight.
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare.

I believe this was created by W.H.Davies  and read out on television by a country girl by the name of Pam Ayres.
Didn't they do well ?

As for me I'm just a country boy, who has nothing to do and all day to do it in, so I'd better get started.
So; may your road be long and full of song and I'm sure happiness will come along.

Be well

Tuesday, 30 July 2013


This is a part of a letter I wrote to my cousin after he kept ribbing me over the way I kept talking about my yacht.
He said I spent more time cleaning it, than I did  my own home, also reckons I had more time for it than I had for a woman. Which is untrue I love the ladies?

So I wrote him  what I thought was an amusing letter.

I hope you also find it amusing.

Cousin  Paul:

Excuse me my Cuz just thought I'd write and asked you for a bit of advice.

For some time now I have suspected my current lady of cheating on me.
You know the signs, phone rings and If I pick it up it goes dead?
She's been going out with the "Girls" a lot lately.
Getting back in the middle of the night ?
When I ask her about them! she just says "they are friends from work! you don't know them",
then I get that mind your own business look.

I have never pushed this subject with her, maybe deep down I don't
really want to face the answer.

But last night It really got up my nose, so I decided  to wait up and have it out with her.
Around midnight I went out and hid behind Seabiscuit.
Where I had a good view of the driveway and waited for her to return from her night out?
After about 15 minutes she turned into the drive,
"after her night out with the girls", yer bollocks !

As she got out of her car she was buttoning up her blouse, the bitch! It was fully open by the way.
Then the cheating cow took her panties from her purse and leaned on her car to put them on and quickly gave herself a spray.

I was just on the point of running out and having it out with her, for once and for all, I really felt insanely jealous, seriously!

As I turned around, I just happened to see some hairline cracks in the gel coat on the yacht near the transom area, it made me feel sick.
Do you think it's something I can repair myself, or
do you think I should send if off for a professional repair ?
As you know I respect any advice you can give regarding the repair of the boat.

Life is like a warm bath, the longer you stay in it the more wrinkled you get.

Regards your wrinkled Cuz Terence


Sunday, 21 July 2013

The old man.

          The  old man.

I saw an old man sitting there, 
Lost in thought in his chair
whispering words no-one can hear,
Closing his eyes and facing the sun,
I saw him see, each memory, each and every one. 
Of all that was or could have been and every crazy thing that he had seen.

I saw his fingers bend and touch,
An unknown memory of his own true love. 
A heart felt memory, when his love begun.
I saw his smile break through the light, it was a memorable sight,
He couldn't hide it if he tried,
and then I knew that he had died.

I wondered just who he was,
Content to sit just watching the world go by.
Guessing at how he had become.
A man whose face had more to tell,
Built of stories he'd never tell,
Himself a tale ,untold now gone.

And now and then when I'm alone,
I'll close my eyes to up and go,
To that place for a little while,
Where moment and memories are lived again,
Where the old man found his end.
Far away beyond the bend.

As and when my own time comes around.
I'll find a quiet place to sit down,
And I'll rest my eyes for a while,
And as I turn to face the sun,
I hope to see everything and everyone.
And see enough,to make me smile.
For this I would go that extra mile.



Friday, 19 July 2013

The Mouse family 123

First book

To new Mummies where ever you are.

This a book  I think will kick start your babies imagination and you will like it too.
A first book for your baby.
Written by Rosalind Sutton.
Illustrated by Pamela Storey.

One little mouse is playing ball,
It bounces on the ground;
She throws it up into the air
To catch as it comes down.
Hide and seek

Eight mice are on a picnic
With Cookies and cakes to eat;
They sit down by the river bank
To enjoy their special treat.

Five little mice play hide and seek,
One counts behind the door;
He turns around and looks about
To find the other four.
_--------------------------- Just a wee taster.

Isn't it just so sweet?

Oh yes!  "March house books blog" run by Barbrara , is the place to go for all the info, more than I would ever know,
It's the place I recommend, I do believe she is a friend.

Babies and children are wonderful journeys
good luck with your's.


Thursday, 18 July 2013

Man's Biblical enemy. (The locust)


Locust Watch.

Charter Tower.
South of Townsville

Its 0430 am and we are high up in the hills looking west for any sign of the hatching of a new swarm of Locust.
My mate and I have been in the out back for a few weeks now, living in a tent looking West, every day all day, towards the last place the locust were last seen, before disappearing 5 years ago.

My mate is a Australian black man, a Queenslander, loves working with aircraft,  a good guy, one day he said to me, when I handed him the binoculars (his turn)  "That If we keep looking West any longer our minds will travel out to see ourselves looking back at us" and he was serious.

Our Governments agricultural boffin's seem to think the locust will reappear again this year and start to swarm and eat anything they come across, which usually means all man's sown crops and wild life greenery, devastating the farming economy and the wild life.

There is a thin line of crop spraying Pilots, like myself, spread out to the south about 800 miles apart, all of us working for different companies,  looking West across the outback for the tell tail signs of a swarm.

The plan is; Ambush them and this is our first time by the way!
The first of us to sight them, will call in all the crop spraying aircraft and pilots available and we will chase them, spraying them day and night until they disappear again.
A simple plan but unworkable!
We had no spare aeroplanes, When they finally appeared, every one of us was so busy with our own swarm!
We seem to wipe out millions and millions of them and never even put a dent in the swarm, the sky was dark with their clouds.
We usually run out of effective chemical, then we started mixing all sorts of farm chemicals in the hope of continuing the fight against our biblical enemy.
Ancient Man has be at war against the locust (Disambiguation)For over 5000 years.

They are a species of grass hopper, who under the right conditions swarm into billions, it is estimated there are  40 to 60 million in a 1/4 of a mile swarm. Some places in the world the native people find them edible, in fact a bit of a protein rich delicacy, for hungry people, they used to gather them whilst we were spraying them, eating them like sweeties.

Spraying Locust was an exhaustive none stop battle, part of it, was not to get caught by flying through the swarm,
But unfortunately they sometimes just appeared in front of you like a dark cloud, turning away was your only chance of not getting your engine compartments, full of cooking stinking dead bodies, over heating your engine or blocking your air intakes causing partial or full engine failure, parts of their bodies seem to seep into the cockpit and you would get yellow and green slime splashes over you.
They were just relentless.

My preferred method of attack was at night,  as the sun went down so did the swarm, some kept flying but the main swarm landed.
The local farmers would ( If they saw them) place kero lights around the swarm.
They used to tell me that they could hear the swarm on the ground eating their crop.

It was believed this was the time when they would reseed the earth with their eggs as they had always done, since the time of the Pharaohs,
unfortunately there was no gps  for us in them days to plot them accurately and make a plan! for next year.
After the local temperature fell, I would clean the leading edges of my wings and prop and polish my windscreen, I found this gave me a longer time in flight,
Then I would go and spray them all night until dawn. 
The next day when the sun started to feel warm on your T shirt,
it was time to go and witness a true wonder of the world,
we would pile into our trucks and go to the field I sprayed the previous night,
small swarms were already rising from the field, but once the temp jumped another 10 degrees the whole swarm got airborne, blotting out the early morning sun with their frightening proportions,
it was as if we hadn't sprayed them at all, the ground was 4 inches deep in their bodies, there must have been millions of them dead, plus the field was also ravaged and barren of all green,
the Cockies (farmers)  burnt the field out in the hope the fire might kill off the new laid eggs, who knows? it had to be worth a try. 
So we go back to the airstrip and start again.

Do I think we would or could defeat this ancient enemy?
No, not really, the only plus I saw was the fact that we kept them on the move and in doing so they missed valuable land and farms? and our Boffin's did predicted their arrival.
But really I'm not sure they even knew we were there, there was just too many of them to notice us, we were like an ant on the back of a very big elephant.
Another unanswerable question.

Then one day my swarm would be gone,
yes there were a lot of grass hopper about, but the swarm was gone. 
For my area it was over. 
I would walk over to a big eucalyptus tree and lay down in the shade and (di, im i no di tru, di lik lik tasol *) sleep for at least 6 hours or until my mate threw a bucket of water over me, then we would pack up and move South looking for the next swarm and it would all start again.

(*Die, him he no die true, die  little bit that's all).= heavy sleep!

"The hardest work is never too hard, nor the longest day too long.
But I've cut my cake, so I can't complain; I've only myself to blame."
Aussie:  Mowbray Morris.

Be Well.


Tuesday, 16 July 2013


Kangaroo .


Let me just give you a taste of a great Australian Poet, Who still rocks my boat, after all these years. 

H. Lawson.

Two couples are drifting the self same way.
Men of the world know best.
From the ballroom glare, as the night grows grey.
Men of the world can tell.
Many are around them who knew and know. 
But men of the world are blind.
That couple in front has nought to do
with the couple that comes behind.

The women starts on her partners arm,
for reason he could not tell,
She trips and she laughs the society laugh.
That men of the world knew well.
If she laughs too suddenly or talks too fast,
We are deaf as well as blind.
Twas only the ghost of the girlish days.
When she married the man behind.

He feels the pain where his heart had been,
for reasons he cannot tell.
A spasm that mar's the cynical smile.
That men of the world knew well.
A spasm that's known in society
and many men out of the hunt.
Twas only the ghost of his boyish hopes,
When he married the women in front.

And the man in front and the women behind
Oh society smile and bow.
They are too well bred to ask even in thought,
What has come to their partners now.
But the couples drift in society's stream to 
the kerb where two cabs wait.
It was all because of what others had said,
and a word that was spoken too late.
It was a different time,
but it still makes me take a deep breath, 
did it touch you?
Poetry is my echo, calling to me to dance,
The dance of life.


Thursday, 11 July 2013

Flip Flops Secret

I picked up this book in a second hand book shop, I knew I had a rare find. Written by Molly Brett.
Born 1902 Died 1990.
She grew up in Surrey UK.
Her distinctive and innocent Style has enchanted children for a generation, with her beautiful drawn details. illustration and colour and captivating magical atmosphere.

Giving her little animals a human face.
It's my secret and I shan't tell you.

Now the other animals often 
laughed at that funny little frog,
because he was so slippery and had no soft fur coat,
He has no ears giggled the rabbits.
He can't sing songs twittered the birds,
He hasn't even a tail chuckled the Squirrel and 
not a single whisker tittered the mice.

This is just a wee taste of her talent and to her memory

One of my passions is to collect the inscriptions usually written on the first page, a well wish? a small endearment from the past? a small rhyming verse and many more,
unfortunately no words were left in this book, leaving it naked to the world, so sad, just a collection of pages, without that special feeling.
Well I will of course, place my message and date on the first page, when I send this book to my grand-sons Rupert and Monty.
So  "Night Night sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite and if they do just remember your grand-dad loves you".