This irrelevant life
I face the back wall
Passed by again, again
Smile at someone
Reach out with a little wave
Hoping for something

Busy, busy, busy
So very important
And busy, busy, busy
Achievers all on the road to somewhere
To busy to notice

Where am I going?
What am I doing?
Trying to understand why
It's so important to be important
It's so fantastic to be too busy
It's so great to be too tired

I feel tired and weary
I long for nobodies
To be somebodies
I want people to stop
And listen and talk
And sit
In silence
And so nothing
And enjoy it
And remember each other

Words and Pictures - Pretty

Pretty passionfruit, originally uploaded by megs threads.
I do feel
as the wind blows
straight through me
and I do choke with heavy dust
and lose a piece or two,

All my toes
twist and turn
in the bed of poo
and food that does so rot
makes them grow an inch or two,

My lovely green hands
have been burnt
by the searing sun
so dry and yellow
now they fall
gently upon the ground,

awakens me
from a rest
as little hands
pull at me
from the fence
to hunt for balls
and treasure.

Now I sleep
as I prepare
to make my pretty flowers
that I will once again
give the treasures for the hunts,

So you must wait
with patience, please,
and feed me if you will.

With all the goodness
you can find
and a drop of juice
or two.

Thanks Pip for the "Pretty" theme in words & pictures this week. I thought that I would do something different this week. I hope that you like it.

Words and Pictures - Souvenirs

Sally-Anne shoved her hand as deeply as she could into her pocket of her Faberge jeans and skulked around the shop just one more time. How long was it going to take for her mum to talk to the pharmacist? She was so over waiting. This was just tedious. There were so many other things that she would rather be doing.
Sally-Anne stopped in front of the perfumes and picked up each one of them, taking a long deep sniff. That musky one took her into that piano teacher's house. She couldn't remember the name of her, but it was always so cold and dark in that house, and silent, until her fingers hit the keys on old Zimmerman. The sound would resonate throughout that dark house trying to fill it up, unsuccessfully as it would make its way back into the music room, disillusioned with the dullifying features in the house. The sweet floral perfume suddenly took her to her Grade 3 teacher, Miss Tilly, who was always full of happiness and sparkle. Every morning she greeted the class with such a big smile that would spread over like a wash. Any tear or fear that was lingering, was washed away in that defining moment. Sally-Anne smiled even now as she thought of her.
"Come on now", her mother called. Sally-Anne snapped herself back to the present and dropped her smile, letting her hair fall over her eyes and face again. Best not to let others see too closely. The girls at the chemist called out good-bye to her, but she only mumbled as she trudged behind her mother. She shoved her hand into her pocket even further. To even it up, she decided to shove her other hand into her other pocket as she shrugged off her mother's light touch on her shoulders as they started to cross the road.
The trip home seem to take forever, even though they only lived two streets from the shops, and the time it took for Sally-Anne's mother to find the key, put the key in the hole, open the door and go through the doorway seemed to take even longer.
Sally-Anne made a beeline for her bedroom and shut the door behind her. She extracted her hands from the pockets that had now seemed to grow into her skin and opened her right hand to find her souvenir. The lipstick was a lush red colour and she was so excited about it and went to the mirror and put it on. It was fantastic. She heard the footsteps in the hall and her heart dropped. Nausea swept over her as the realisation crept in that what she had done was dreadful. She got the tissues and tried to wipe it off as quickly as she could, but it was leaving a stain on her lips, and the footsteps were so close, the door handle was turning.
"Darling..."Jackie stood there shocked. "What are you doing? What are all those tissues for and why are your lips so red? What is going on?"
Sally-Anne froze like an animal caught in the headlights. No going back now. This was not a souvenir. It was a curse. A curse that she was going to have to deal with.

Thanks Pip for hosting Words and Pictures

Review of The Flower Hunter, The Remarkable Life of Ellie Rowan

Phew! What an epic read! It was very interesting information about a woman from over a century ago in Victoria, NSW and QLD, and because of my interest in painting and indigenous plants and flowers, I stayed for the journey. However, and it is a very big however, I found this to be a long and hard journey.
I did think many times that it may have been more interesting to read the articles that Ellis had written along her travels, or The Flower Hunter that she had written, with just a brief introduction by Christine and Michael Morton-Evans.
Their job was made difficult with a large amount of personal information being destroyed once she died, however, the book did appear to carry a great deal of bitterness for her life that didn't really seem apparent in the way that she conducted herself. I found that this took away from the essence of Ellis Rowan. I felt that they really drew out the pitfalls in her character that actually held her back from really being recognised as a person of significance that she so wished for.
A rather long drawn out book with rather interesting subjects of art, and botany. Difficult to score...7/10