Acrostic for Sufferers of Bovinephobia 😉

Run (by Michael Bryden)

Run (by Michael Bryden)


Acrostic for Sufferers of Bovineophobia

Beware the beasts
Out to get you.
Vibrations of rage, running deep
Into the heart of the ground.
Nimble thy feet will be to avoid the
Excruciating crush of the bovine burden.
Oppressed you will feel, it is only fair.
Pray for divine assistance -
Holy cow!
Oh Lordy, get me outta here.
Bovine phobia, yes
It’s a thing.
And the cattle cry – Alleluia.


Note: for bluebee who is a sufferer :D


Nuddernote: fear of cattle is justified ;) they are huge beasties and can squish you without even meaning too!

A hat tip to Basho’s Thin She Cat

November 2013 031

the family dog -
she’s a little fat hippy
from too much love dude


My apologies to Matsu Basho – hahahaha – I’m bashing his famous haiku:

The she cat -
Grown thin
From love and barley.


The Imperial Russian Ballet Company

russian ballet 2014 006

Nariman Bekzhanov

flight of
the Russian dancer
spirits soar
Nariman Bekzhanov
rapture in the air
the spirit of
Rudolph Nureyev
reach for heaven


My daughter (11yo) and I went away for a girl’s weekend ;)

We saw the Imperial Russian Ballet Company’s Don Quixote. The production was amazing – the costumes, music, and most of all the supreme athletes who make up this ballet company. The technique of the principal soloist Nariman Bekzhanov has been compared to Rudolph Nureyev.

We had the best time!






the man wakes from a (one eye open) sleep

with the sore back on a hard bench

stretch and groan, early, to steer clear

of the passers-by sneer and eye-roll

with quick turn of the head,


and they move along …


at home

way back when

the boy woke from a (one eye open) sleep

with the hard and fast pounding hand of panic

pressing his heart, and iced-up breath in his chest,

as he waited for grave footsteps

and a stale beer breath fog,


and he couldn’t move,


and he can’t move on.


Note: this poem is not based on any one individual.

If you live in Australia and need someone to talk to – you can contact Lifeline (Crisis support and suicide prevention).



Aromatherapy (A Beginners Guide)



When you are down

smell a segment of mandarin,

pungent, sachet of zing.


When you are down

smell toast buttered

and almost burnt


or maybe a cupcake,

straight from the oven

of your childhood.


When you are down

smell the hazy blue

scent of a eucalypt forest.


When you are down

smell a chocolate covered mint

and reflect on a full stomach.


When you are down

smell rosemary and mint,

but not together.


When you are down

smell hickory chips smoking,

away from your cave.


When you are down

smell coffee in a café,

when you’ve not had coffee for a while.


When you are down

smell the invisible mist of jasmine,

the spirit is breathing.


When you are down

smell rain on soil and listen -

fresh seedlings sing.


When you are down

smell freshly baked bread

that someone else has made.


When you are down

smell the stuffing of an antique shop,

and travel through time.


When you are down

smell a baby’s soft neck

but remember to ask the mother.


Rainbow’s End in Sochi

We will rain on your parade Putin

for chasing the rainbows away,

for covering the ice snow in Sochi

with the blues and the blood

of stray dogs and the bruised

Pussy Riot in their bright colours,

their shirts and short dresses

made for a place of greater warmth.


Cossacks will horsewhip the populace

into a Papier Mâché face

with smile, plastered in red

for the world to admire and deny

the destruction of human rights

in Russia, in this Olympic space,

say the girls in the brightly coloured

ski masks which hide their faces,

but not their song.

A delicate balance,


A delicate balance,

spinning in deep space

but hanging on with a weak grasp,

grounded by gravity

but rooted in a skeletal soil,

breathing in the thin

swathe of gases embracing this earth.


A fragile kiss of life

on the eucalyptus lips,

lips which will then part

and exhale for us all

who breathe today

but maybe not tomorrow.



Note: Photo by Gabrielle Bryden