Telling Tales (true or tall)

  JIGSAW OF LIFE Humanity is like a jigsaw in a big, round box; Pieces in order, sitting pretty, and much valued. We’ve depended on others, like building blocks, And, when each fragment linked, life continued.   Sometimes rearranged, it still looks like Us. Though events might cause some movement, The picture soon returns to our ordinariness. Life persists, despite any challenges present.   Until, someone in charge decides we don’t count. They stomp the box, throwing pieces everywhere. Our hearts broken, we should bring them to account. When will mankind learn how important it is to share.   ©Sandy Gillis, March 2024  

FAMILY JIGSAW I think of family as a living jigsaw in a great, big box. Everything in order, sitting pretty and much valued. Separately, depending on others, like building blocks And, with each fragment, the whole of us continued.   Although bits were rearranged, it still looked like Us. Friends and colleagues might cause some movement But the picture gradually returned to our ordinariness. Life continued despite what changes might represent.   Until the vessel broke and pieces scattered everywhere. Frantic scrabbling and searching failed to find them all. I’m searching for an important piece, lost somewhere, So the completed picture can again be the Us I recall.   © Sandy Gillis July 2023  Published Dec 2024 Hinterland Times  

MEMORIES I reach over in my sleep To cuddle your warm, tousled body. But the sheets are cold. You no longer seek my comfort in the night.   I hear you chuckling down the hall, Are you playing and hiding in the kitchen? But the cupboard’s bare. There’s no laughter in you anymore.   I think I see you waving to me from afar And run towards you to find out why. Then you turn away. My advice no longer needed; you know all.   My mind knows this too will pass But my heart yearns for the happy toddler Who saw me, her mother, As the love and the light of her life.   Sandy Gillis ©   Submitted to Hinterland Times July 2019  -  Published Mar 2020

There's a stash of memories running wild in my brain! A maelstrom of phrases and words trying to escape. They're headbutting my skull, riding roughshod again, Jostling madly for position, lining up on my tongue And I'm frantically searching my dry mouth in vain, For those pithy recollections before they disappear.     Could I have reached the end of this corporeal life; Is senility attacking my mind, deleting all as it goes? My cutting wit, once much admired, sharp as a knife, Reduced to raving and mumbling, not making sense. In my mind I’m still young, not ready for the afterlife. I try to put fading memories into some sort of order.   Then suddenly, a light shines on one lone memory, Grandad saying, “It’s the forgetting that’s difficult.” And just like that, I recall every single tale and story, Which, a frantic minute ago, I thought had vanished. My audience is small, attendance wasn’t obligatory, And I feel the anxiety disappear, ...

  DE JA VU -ING Sometimes, I cannot actually tell Where dreams begin and reality ends. Am I surfing a mountainous swell Or just dreaming about riding high? Surely, I’ve walked this track recently, Fighting through an overgrown path. Although it all seems so familiar to me, Perhaps it’s just the struggle that is real. Standing at the edge of the precipice I fight the urge to take another step Then fly like a bird high above the abyss Before landing safely way below. It’s just a dream and I wake in fright, But I see it’s time to keep walking Into reality. Not from that great height But forward towards new opportunities. No more dreaming, or de ja vu -ing. Time for authenticity in my existence, Some go-getting and positive ‘doing’. Dreams are for those sleeping through life.   © S Gillis 2023 Published Hinterland Times July 2023

  OBI MAGIC   Timing and patience I’m told is the key. So, I watch and wait so very patiently, While others try to trick my roving eyes. I’m not fooled, as I wave away the flies, Concentrating on swirls and ripples, Not turtles and fish faking it with bubbles.   There! Deep ripples across the creek! Excitement makes my knees go weak. As I prepare myself and my camera I hear the chuckling of a kookaburra, And think, perhaps it’s laughing at me. But no!  How joyous to finally see…   My quarry right there in front, eye to eye. Click, click, click! Nonchalant and not shy, Happily posing for me before diving away. I’ll never forget the first time, a Monday, That I saw an ornithorhynchus anatinus , Maleny’s very own wonderful platypus!   © S Gillis 2023 (published Hinterland Times March 2023)

  TIRED OF TURNING THE OTHER CHEEK… Some Entitled People walking amongst us don’t have to follow the rules, There is something special about those people (that some of us call fools). Their dogs don’t have to be on leash when they walk them around town, And if you dare say a word, they’ll swear at you loudly and stare you down.   How dare you question the fact that they’re more entitled than hoi polloi. The Entitled don’t ever worry about what all their pets might destroy. Even their kitties wander around killing wildlife whenever and wherever. They have no concerns that some unique wildlife could be lost forever. Locked down you say? Well, their holiday's more important than your health, So they sneak over borders, visiting places everywhere, using super stealth. And when they've been diagnosed with that very contagious Corona virus, They throw everyone's plans into disarray. Now who's hurting? All of US!   The Entitled don’t worry about things ...

LEOTARD LUNACY They were excited as they gave me the card, “Choosing presents for you Mum, is always hard. But Dad says you’ll love this. It’s really great!” Now I was getting excited, I couldn’t wait. But I teased us a little by feeling the outside And wondering out loud what could be inside. “Money to buy something, just for me? Tickets to that show I’ve been dying to see? A voucher for gliding lessons I wanted to do?” “Better than that Darl, and it’s all for you.” So I opened it quickly, loving smile for him. Oh… Just what I wanted, 12 months at the gym. So here I sit, struggling on the Pec Deck Trying to ignore shooting pains in my neck. I move to the leg press, squatting down low, As usual, unsure where my feet are to go. Next is the shoulder press, most hated of all. With clenched jaw I curse, “Oh, yeah, having a ball.” No matter how often I force myself to go, My aging flesh will never, ever look (I know) Like that of tho...

Farewell Mum We celebrate now in love, Mum's life from start to end And we're glad we knew her, as Mum and as a Friend. We remember all the love and lessons she taught us And thank her for the care and generosity shown us. Although Mum's now left this earth and taken flight, We know she's that voice in our heads, our guiding light. Remembering her will be easy, we do that anyway; Because there's an ache in our hearts that won't go away. But we're pretty sure that up there in Heaven She'll be painting and teaching pottery once again... S, P & R (26.9.17)

It’s extremely rare to actually enjoy Travelling to your place of employ (Whether by bus, tram, car or train), Since common courtesy began to wane. It’s people who snuffle with whom  I  take issue. Surely to goodness they could carry a tissue? And malodorous people should surely desist From travel with others. I really insist! How I curse the man who invented the MP3; Just an invasive, pervasive musical tin can to me. Putting up with their racket is only for mugs So I praise the woman who invented ear plugs. Driving myself is not the preferred mode Because of the plethora of idiots using the road. It seems lack of road courtesy presents no bar To their having a licence or driving a car. Rudeness it seems is not confined to transport. Lack of respect for others is now a national sport. Those queue jumpers are a right royal pain too While you’re patiently waiting for food or the loo. ...

Wind breathes softly through deserted halls; Sighs and whispers echo on vacant walls. I wonder who it was abandoned this place, Forgotten long-ago-home of a now dead race? Half open doors hang on hinges, wrecked and rusty, Dank dungeons below smell mouldy and musty. What horrors occurred in these rooms so ghastly? The mournful wind reminds us of those gone lastly. Once did these rooms ring with the voices and laughter Of elves, dwarves and fairies and all who came after. They told of trolls and goblins fought in battles, glorious Of great Kingdoms lost and won in wars, victorious. Skies above these towers built by those mere mortals Teemed with dragons and griffins as sculpted on portals. The moat below was filled with dolphins and mermaids Swimming through mysterious grottos and cascades. Sorcerers and witches brewing cauldrons of trickery, Tempted those noble folk from the path of honesty; ...

A gang of us was workin’ at “Ruther Glen” But Bill drew the short straw to clean the pig pen. Ned and me was just watchin’, side by side When Bill chucked a shovel load; said we was snide! All I could say was “Bloody bloomin’ heck!” ‘Cause Ned was standin’ there with nary a speck While I was covered head to toe in muck. There’s just no explainin’ that kind of luck. “Bluey, why don’t you just throw young Ned in?” Said Big Sid Reilly with a lopsided grin. “No, I couldn’t do that,” answered I with a wink. “Whatever would me dear departed Mother think? ‘Sides, Ned’s me mate and mates don’t do fer each other, It’s not  his  fault Bill’s got no sense of humour.” All this time Bill was lookin’ perplexed, Convinced as he was that he’d cop it next. See, I’m well known for me fiery red thatch And people expect a temper to match. But I’m an easy going’ bloke, as a matter of fact And ...