| Food for Thought Only when all our senses meet Do we savor fully the food we eat. If we close our eyes it may help us think That we food we eat is a sweet pale pink But would the food go so easily down If we saw it was really a yuky brown? If we hold our nose we enjoy the taste Of the chocolaty custardy Durian paste But if we inhale its rotten meat smell Our enjoyment suddenly dies as well. Cheesecake would be like a lumpy paste If we suddenly lost our sense of taste And could we really enjoy a munch If we couldn’t hear the cookie crunch? Be it food or love, you are truly replete Only when all of your senses meet To taste without seeing may be a delight But would it be so were the food in sight? (reflections on couples who 'fall in love' over the internet) |
| LLiandus We are a life form of light And thought and energy Who sometimes choose to Play games in a solid world. If a word could be found to Name us it would be Liandus Free home of the soul of Every earthbound being. Those who leave the Liandus Home for earthbound games Forsake the love and oneness Of communal thought But for some, the link remains A wispy fragment of memories Of somewhere else, where Our true self is meant to dwell. We seek to fill the emptiness With earthly loves – and dreams Fill in the spaces where our Liandus soul still grieves. Hang in there. The game is not Yet over. You must play your Part and help your earthly team Mates until Liandus calls you home. L. Cracknell Feb 2004 |
| Net Love Can love move through ether like the blood in our veins? Can the keyboards and wires send our joys and our pains? Well, it seems that they can - as so many have found that their love on the 'net can be deep and profound But a sharing of hearts and a meeting of minds is nowhere the same as the joining of hands To be stirred by the passion you see deep in her eyes, to Share not only your minds but the rest of your lives But sadly so few loves With the net as their base Transcend the distance to meet face to face. And yes I admit it My cheeks are all wet as I cry for the man who finds love on the 'net Lynda Cracknell 2004 Written in sympathy for a friend whose 'net romance didn't last |
| This was written to celebrate the arrival of the first passenger train to cross the Australian continent from South to North – from Adelaide to Darwin. Named ‘The Ghan’ after the early Afghan camel drivers who crossed the great Australian deserts, the first train arrived in Darwin on the afternoon of Tuesday 3rd February 2004. On leaving Darwin – a city I loved – in 1997, I promised I would return on the first train. A train which many believed would never eventuate as it had been promised for over 100 years. Unfortunately, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t be on that train back to Darwin. The Great Ghan Do you wait for me, my soul mate Where the deserts wild and free Give way to lush green tropics By the Arafura sea. I wanted to return to you On the new and mighty train When it crossed the arid deserts to meet the monsoon rain But it seems there’s a harder pathway Mapped out for us by fate So the great Ghan left without me And once again – we wait. |
| The Carer Who can understand the grief and loneliness Of a wife bereft of a husband’s love & closeness - But his body still lives, requiring constant care? Who can understand the gut-felt hurt and pain When some days he doesn’t even recognize Her, or shuns the loving care she gives unstintingly. Who can understand the fear of taking on the Burden of not only ill-health, but ill-wealth. When Suddenly the job is hers, shared with no-one? Who can understand the tears that flow when Brief, blessed respite gives a chance to close The door and be alone, and rest for just a tiny while? Who can understand? Another Carer can Written for fellow Carers after meeting with them, and hearing accounts of the enormous day to day stresses many Carers are under. |
| Guzundas, Chamber Pots, Pos, Potties – they’re not used any more that I know of, but they were when I was a child living in country NSW – where the main ‘dunny’ was a tin can in a small wooden structure a loooong way from the house. The advent of proper sewerage treatment, flush toilets, and inside ‘dunnies’ or ‘loos’ spelled the dealth-knell for the humble guzunda. Here’s to the memory J The Guzunda Some call it Po or Potty Some call it Chamber Pot But another name I’ve heard Might be the funniest of the lot. The name is ‘a Guzunda’, yes I know it’s kind of funny, It’s Strine for under-bed models Of the good Australian Dunny. You ask me now what ‘Strine’ means? It’s not difficult at all It’s just the word ‘Australian’ said With an Aussie drawl ‘Guzunda’ as you may have guessed Is a Strine name for the loo Which ‘goes under’ the bed for Your midnight pee and poo. |
| The Mystics Reply A pivotal point. But your fear rises again as it has so many times before. To risk dreams to a cracked and flawed Reality. Perhaps too big a risk to take. Your life destined to be lived in a Fog of perfection and beauty Untarnished by the winds of change Blowing on the silver of our lives. |