Friday, 12 September 2014


'TIS TIME........

Fare Thee Well, Winter... bringer of cold
Welcome Springtime, with colours so bold...
Take thy harsh breath, hide far away...
Let our poor toes defrost, no more shivers I say!
Let us fold up our doonas, our scarves and our socks
No heavy coats, just light summer frocks..
No fires on hearth, no mists on the fields
Just sighs of delight, with fruit's summer yields..
Till the heat is oppressive, and we are soaked through
Then maybe, just maybe, we'll think of you!

(c) Crissouli Aug 31, 2014

Roses: Old Design Shop Free Clip Art

Monday, 25 August 2014



The rhythm was even, and gentle,
to and fro, to and fro…
For so many years he dreamed,
whiling away the hours
as he rocked the memories
gently in his mind.
It was all so quiet now,
not like before, so many years ago.

Then, he'd often thought
that the noise was making tunnels in his mind.
It was then that he'd wished
for silence. Not now.
He was at peace with himself
and with the world
but still, he couldn't help recalling
the sounds of times gone past.

At one time, his verandah
reverberated with the hoops
of fierce Red Indians
fighting for their lives. 
Wild battles with Custer's men
threatened to rock the very foundations
of his existence..
but gentle little nurses waited nearby.

Nothing was left unnoticed,
or unloved. The pots of palms
became jungles, hiding wild animals..
A discarded light shade
shielded a great white hunter
from the steamy glare
of the jungles of imagination.
Such times they were!

Only the cream of local society
was invited to the tea parties.
Gingerbread men, wearing garbs
of peppermint icing, nestled cosily
alongside pink frosted patty cakes,
proudly crowned with a glistening red cherry.
Tiny white china cups held promises
of cool, sticky lemonade.

To and fro, to and fro, he rocked..
crumbs of memories
scattered in his dreams.
The gate squeaked, a whoop, a cry!
A laughing cluster of children
tumbled up the path.
"Grandad, it's us..
we've come to stay!"

Crissouli (c) 2011

image from the British Library collection
no known copyright


Words, words, wonderful words
Where will they take me now?
We sauntered along, my words and I
sometimes I've wondered how...
They swell within, with a mind of their own
just bubbling along at will...
the thoughts, the feelings, the need to express..
how I wish, sometimes, they'd be still.
They mirror my life, the heart of my soul
they take me to worlds far away
but for now they unite for just a short time
for it's my second blogiversary today!

(c) Crissouli August 2014

Thank you for your support. I hope you will continue to drop by.


Thursday, 24 April 2014



Sing to me, Mother, just one more time
Sing to me of the gentle breezes
That dance among the eucalypts
Sing to me of shivery grasses - waving in the sun
I long for the smell of the bush
And clear blue skies over hot, golden sands..
How I miss the trill of magpies
The laugh of the kookaburras
Even the dust storms, blowing in from the west.

Sing to me, Mother, of the gentle rains
The smell of new mown grass.
I need your gentle voice to warm me
For I am cold, and shaking
I can't get warm, I need your arms around me..
I lay here on a beach of stone
While all around me, young men fall.
It's dark still, but dawn is coming
Though not for me.
Take me home, dear Mother
I'm coming home.

(c) Crissouli April 2014

not limited by licence

April 25, 1915

Monday, 10 February 2014



.....when I am gone,
for I will not know their fragrance..
Weep not at my grave
for I can not wipe away your tears.
Say no kind words for I will not hear.
Come now, hold my hand,
let me see your smile..
hear your voice and share your laughter,
for still I breathe, still I'm here.
Be not afraid of my passing,
it's just another journey
I'll not go alone
for your love will be with me
and I will be in the arms of all who have gone before.

 (c) Crissouli Feb 2013

Thursday, 6 February 2014



Can you hear me sweetheart as I lie here in the mud

The birds so sweetly singing as they wander in my blood

All around me smoke is rising and I fear I shall not see

Golden hair upon my chest again, as you snuggle close to me.

Weep not for what we will not have, but please, my love, rejoice

I would not want your tears to fall or hear quivers in your voice.

Sing to me my darling, it will help to ease my pain

Call to me, my loved one, let me hear you once again.

Soft kisses to our baby girl, may she grow to be like you

Please tell her Daddy loves her, and loves her Mummy too.

Take my heart within you, as you live for you and me

Do not dwell in sadness for what can never be.

Know that I will always love you, wherever you may go

Rejoice for we had one year of happiness, and we loved each other so.

Chris Goopy (c)  April 2009

The first two lines were from a poem by my friend, Frank Cassidy...
I wrote the rest without ever having read his entire poem.




Can you hear me, are you listening?

I know I'm still the same inside
I get muddled and confused 
and I know I remember everything
sometimes, on some days, somehow…
So, I don't know whether I've taken my tablet,
nor can I remember having breakfast
but I remember the soft, still light of dawn.. 
I remember greeting you for the first time
holding you in my arms, it was you, wasn't it
born on a still autumn morn, 
dark haired and with the tiniest fingers..
It was you, your mother cradling you in her arms
looking even more beautiful than ever..
and crying, I remember the tears, 
her tears, for her own mother would never hold you, 
never share her dreams for you.

I'm sorry I asked you that same thing so many times
but I can't remember your answer 
for more than a moment, maybe two
… will you be home for dinner? 
What time did you say, when… when will you be home?
Have I taken my tablet? I can't remember…
But I do remember your mother's beautiful voice
as she sang an Irish Lullaby
was that to you or one of the others…
maybe to all of you, each of you, others.
What will I cook for dinner, when will you be home?
Please don't get angry, I can't remember
When will you be home?

What's for dinner? Is it ready, am I cooking?
Who cooked dinner, when will you be home…
I can hear my voice, I know I can't remember
but I haven't forgotten the laughter
that wonderful, gentle laughter that ended in a burst of sound, 
then tears rolling down her cheeks when she couldn't stop.
Where's your mother, I can't find her
Please bring her home, where's your mother now?
I need to talk to her, where is she? 
tell her I'm waiting for her… will she be back soon?
I need her… 
is anybody listening?

© Crissouli 2013