a handful of herstory

This is an expanded and edited version of Bee sting, for the dVerse prompt “The body & Poetry“.

I have since given away my beehive, so no revisits after this. 


My hand swells as the venom spreads,
until it is smooth and puffed;
an inflated glove
or a giant toddler’s hand.

As the skin stretches the wrinkles disappear
and the tiny hidden scars stand out clear.
My stories written on my hands:

White crescents each side of my thumb,
carved by a bird, trapped and crazed,
madly flapping, flailing,
biting when freed.

The fine line across my palm,
from my grandmother,
years gone now,
resting a baby cousin on my hand
as it lay on a sharp edge.
I never told her – why hurt her?

A motley patch on my wrist
records a moment of carelessness:
a slick mud road,
a moment of helplessness
before the airbag left that burn.
(And I turned in terror
to the back seat.)

Pale ridges across two knuckles,
these also self-inflicted,
but in a moment of fury
and despair –
no accident these, but a statement.
(I turn my hand to face these ones away.)

And so many small mishaps,
so much daily clumsiness,
but still inscribed here.

The venom slowly dissolves and disperses.
My hand shrinks, and wrinkles,
aging years in each hour.
And all the scars are hidden,
and forgotten again.


Filed under poem

flood moon; toad; morning commute, still

The Tuesday dVerse prompt this week was “flipping meanings“:

Flood moon

The round orb,
washed white by rain,
floats high in the stream.
It is a record
of what has been.
It asks a question
about what was lost.

Bushfire Moon (April 2020)

A thin crescent,
bloodied by smoke,
hangs low above the ridge.
This is not a portent
of things to come.
It is a statement,
of what is here. Continue reading


Filed under musings, poem

a glass of sweet autumn gloaming

For the dVerse Monday prompt “In praise of the grape“, a quadrille using the word wine:


The autumn-sweet air is eucalypt clean,
light, yellow as late-harvest wine, gilds the trees,
insect hum deepens the stillness,
stirred by currawong’s mournful goodnight.

The trees blush rose,
then dissolve
into the darkness rising from valley
to meet an apricot sky,
ripening to indigo.




Filed under poem

I’ll count my sweetpeas…

An envelope of optimism
arrived in the mail today.
A purchase made with wisdom?
I cannot as yet say.

Now they’re spread upon the table
all these packs of possibility
each neatly filled and labelled –
with hopes of harvests yet to be. Continue reading


Filed under gardening, poem

Easter egg hunt – nerd style

Easter Sunday, such a fun day,
watch the children run –
they need to solve the puzzles before
their chocolates melt in the sun.

When my kids were very young, we used to hide Easter eggs for them to find in the little fenced-in yard behind the house. But once they were old enough to read, we set them clues written on strips of paper to follow to find their eggs. Each clue is a puzzle that they need to solve to get to the next egg, with the next clue wrapped around it, and an Easter bunny at the end. Continue reading


Filed under musings

The llama not eaten (yet), by T1

This is another of Twin 1’s poems for his English anthology assignment, again on the llama theme.  It was inspired by Henry Hogge’s The Pig Poets, one of my favourite books of poetry, and comes with apologies to Frost – although as Frost originally intended The Road Not Taken to be humorous, perhaps he wouldn’t mind too much:

Two llamas diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not eat them both
In a single sitting, long I stood
Then chased one llama as far as I could
To where it fell in the undergrowth; Continue reading


Filed under poem

what’ll we do?

What’ll we do
when the dam is dry
and the sheep stand by
and they look at me,
and they look at you?
What’ll we do? Continue reading


Filed under poem

Using the classic editor in WordPress without installing an add-in

I know I’m not the only one who prefers the classic editor to the block editor. Here is how to get to it still – thanks Darren!


WordPress’s interface is a bit of a moving target. As of now — April 2021 — they seem to have made it a little harder to get at the classic editor, which is a shame because it is a lot easier to use than any of the editors that have come since. The newer ones hide useful tools behind menus that appear and disappear, create a lot of extra cruft in the underlying HTML and are generally less flexible and straightforward. I assume it is a tactic to push people into paid plans. Every time I google ‘get back the classic editor in wordpress’ (or similar) I get directed to an add-in that I can only use of I have a paid plan.

You can’t blame a business for wanting to make money, I guess.

Anyway, as of now, you can still do this:

View original post 379 more words


Filed under Uncategorized

B-ark-ing mad and chasing our tails

Back on the B-ark yesterday, for strategic planning! So the dVerse prompt: “put your words on spin cycle” felt very apt when I read it this morning.

I hate tidying, sweeping, mopping the floor,
and washing dishes even more,
and there are few things I wouldn’t rather be
doing, than a load of laundry –
but sitting here and taking notes
in this bloody meeting, gets some votes.
There’s no action-items, no decisions made,
my patience is becoming increasingly frayed… Continue reading


Filed under poem, rants

success couching

We’ll get us a success coach
to train up our success
he’ll pump us up with slogans
until we are the bestest.
He’ll elevate our excellence
right up to the sky!
And as the gas comes whooshing out
our excellence will fly! Continue reading


Filed under musings, poem