Play and Learn With Brother's Bear- Numbers

March 18th, 2009

The Brother’s Bear come out to play,

With a run and a jump and a skip,

But what are they going to play today,

Come on brothers, tell us quick.

Today they are going to play numbers,

They will count on their journey to school,

The many different things that they will be passing,

Taking turns is the only rule.

 

‘Look there’s one’ little Mark says to his brother,

‘One Postman delivering the post.

Birthday cards, letters and invitations,

Picture postcards are what I like the most’.

Jo says, ‘I see two dogs that look fluffy,

All shaggy and brown taking a walk.

They play with each other so nicely,

As their owners stop for a talk’.

 

‘I see three big bright red buses’

Says Mark as they reach the Lollipop Man.

Both brothers stop, look and listen,

As they cross holding tight to mummy’s hands.

‘Those four pigeons are eating bread slices,

And there are only five big slices left’.

‘Yes’ says Jo smiling happily.

‘But with each peck there seems less and less’.

 

It’s Jo’s turn and he spies six rainclouds,

Looming high in the sky.

‘I don’t think that we could count the raindrops though’,

Mark states, ‘No matter how hard we try’.

‘But I do spot seven people,

All going into that sweet shop.

I wonder what they will buy there,

Newspapers, crisps or lollipops’.

 

‘Eight cars are parked in this street here’.

Excitedly points out Jo.

‘Go on, go ahead, why not count them?

There are eight of them all in a row’.

It is brother Mark’s turn to point now-

‘I see nine people standing together,

Oh, don’t they look cold and a little bit cross

As they wait for a bus in this cold weather’?

 

‘Well I guess that leaves me the last number’

Says Jo as he looks all around.

But no matter how he tries he can’t see ten,

Ten things just cannot be found.

‘OK’ Mark says, ‘Let me help you’.

His eyes also look high and low,

But the number ten just seems absent,

Where to find it, they just don’t know.

 

They have now entered the school gate,

Counting all of the different things that they pass,

Through the gate and through the car park,

They will soon be inside of their class.

And still they just cannot find them,

A group of things that equal ten,

Maybe they will never find them,

And the game will just have to end.

 

But after the boys have got settled,

And mummy has told them bye bye,

Jo says, ‘Mark take a look around you’.

Puzzled, Mark asks him ‘Why’?

‘Because the number ten can be found here,

Just count all of the children in the class’.

‘You’re right’ Mark exclaims, ‘So we have finished-

We have finished our counting game at last’.

 

And with that the brothers do settle down,

Along with their class full of school friends,

Happily they were able to finish,

Their fun game of counting to ten.

It is time for the brothers to go now,

As they begin their lessons for the day,

Though they go they want you to join them,

The next time they return to learn and play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

WRITE ME A POEM

March 12th, 2009

Write a poem for me he said,

But such things are not easy to do,

When writing such words describes how one feels

And reason behind actions too.

What will he say if he read my true thoughts?

When on paper they are finally laid down,

As my true feelings even though not often said,

In my writing is easily found.

What if I were to mask my words,

Make them complex and obscure,

But that is not me and how I do write

And so that offers me no true cure.

What if I choose a subject of sorts,

That relates to neither he nor me,

What am I kidding, by the second verse

The pen involuntarily would be roaming free.

So what does one do in a situation like this?

The options are limited so-

Not writing at all will hide all things inside,

Is that the only place left to go?

But I am a poet and writing I love

This is so real and so true,

Write me a poem is what he had said,

And that is what I’m going to do.

UNREQUITED LOVE

March 11th, 2009

When ones heart because of love is a flutter,

Yet love is not returned by the other,

The victim treads around a hollow mess,

Joy and happiness has sunk oh so fast.

But look again friend, at where the true victim lies,

As like me, the truth may have eluded your eyes.

Is the victim not the fool who chose to ignore

Love so deep, sensual and pure?

A love like this does not come by day to day,

Only a fool would disregard, throw it away.

Once pure love is left, it is never again to come around,

Leaving no trace- no smell, sight or sound.

Play and Learn with Brother's Bear- Seasons

March 3rd, 2009

The Brother’s Bear come out to play,

With a run and a jump and a skip,

But what are they going to play today,

Come on brothers, tell us quick.

Today they are going to play seasons,

That seems an interesting game,

And off they go to have some fun,

Let’s go and do the same.

 

 

Brother Joe says, ‘Here is summer,

We like this season a lot.

We get to wear T-shirts and short pants

Because the sun is lovely and hot.

We often go the seaside,

We swim in the sea and play on the sand,

We build all kind of sandcastles,

Using buckets and spades and our hands.’

 

 

‘Summer’s a time I love also’-

Says Mark, ‘All those yummy things to eat.

Every day is a taste sensation,

Every day there’s a tasty new treat.

Like Ice cream, ice poles and ice lollies.

Like berries of red, purple and blue,

All those wonderful flavours,

All kinds to crunch, swallow and chew”.

 

 

Now shortly after summer has ended,

The season of autumn comes around,

When green leaves turn brown and golden,

And they gently fall to the ground.

There are no more sticky hot days,

The slight breeze is now a strong wind,

Bushes seem bushy no longer,

The petals of flowers have thinned.

 

 

‘There are still lots of fun to be had though,’

Says Jo as he takes Mark by the hand,

‘There’s conkers and pine combs to play with,

Fallen from tree’s they’re all over the land.

It’s a time when plump juicy apples,

Decorate all apple trees-

Let’s collect them, and then we shall eat them,

There are some for you and some for me’.

 

 

Next along is the season of winter,

Wrap up warm before you dare go outside,

The stronger wind blows so cold now,

All animals take cover and hide.

Some spend winter months curled up sleeping-

Some go where the weather is warm,

Leaving behind cold ears and cold noses,

Leaving behind blistering storms.

 

 

‘But winter is also a fun time’

Says Mark, ‘Because of the snow,

We love to make snowmen and angels.’

‘I love snowball fights’ Says Jo.

‘Winter drinks are my favourite’ Mark continues,

‘I really love those a lot’

Agrees Jo ‘Like marshmallows in cocoa,

Mummy gives it to us piping hot’.

 

 

Spring time brings lots of spring showers,

Spring time brings flowers so bright,

Spring is a time of new beginnings,

Of colours, of beauty, of light.

Spring sees all the animals returning,

Running through grass now so green,

This is a sight that’s so lovely,

Like out of a wonderful dream.

 

 

Joe says, ‘Even though that’s quite lovely,

The thing about spring I love best,

Is jumping in all of those puddles,

Wearing boots I make such a mess.

And I put on my bright yellow raincoat

And rain hat and run through the rain.’

Says Mark, ‘It’s really a fun thing to do,

It makes for a really fun game’.

 

And so there are all the four seasons,

The Brother’s Bear find each one such fun,

There is not one that is their favourite,

They truly love each and every one.

And now both brothers are tired,

It’s been a very active day,

Though they want you to join them,

The next time they return to learn and play.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr. Woggle's Tales- Monty's Big Day (A children's story)

February 28th, 2009

My Name Is Sad- ALL HAIL CARGO!

February 27th, 2009

Today is not finding me at my best. The world and all of her problems seem to have nestled comfortably onto my shoulders. I guess you get days like this. When a smile seems as far away as a horizon you want so badly to touch. Days like this often find you thinking in retrospect. Tossing around the ‘if’s’, ‘why’s’, ‘hows’ and ‘maybe’s’ within your mind. “If only I had done this differently’, ‘How did it get to this point’ and ‘Maybe if I change from my present path I will end up in a more positive position’.

I hate days like this. More than anything they signify that all control is not within my hands, for if it were I would not be feeling this way. Control matters a lot to me. I need to be in control. But for a while now, control has eluded me. I never deserted control, so  why does control wish to dessert me? But it’s OK. I’m working hard on getting control back. And I will.  Come on, you know that they can’t keep a good woman down. I have had my bad times, we all have, but I always bounce back from them. You have to, and anyway, no one situation lasts forever. Presently life may not be perfect, but no circumstance is permanent.. What I know for sure is that I have this life that I am living  and there is no way that I am going to allow any circumstance make it unhappy or unfruitful.

Bad  days come to us all. Some of us have the misfortune to have bad months and even bad years, but no one can afford to have it consume them. You know what I do, I limit the time that I give myself to feel sorry for myself. We all feel sorry for ourselves from time to time, but if you limit the time that you allow yourself to do it, you spend more time in positive and progressive thought and action, trying to find a way to get out of the present situation. Some say that people should spend no time feeling sorry for themselves, but I disagree. If it helps you to purge so that you can move on- do it. Shed a tear, scream, shout, get on silly and then move on. Don’t linger in self pity. Oh and please do not use the status bar on your social networking pages to declare your suicidal tendencies. I find this a little melodramatic, unfeeling and disrespectful to family and friends associated with you. You obviously have no concern as to how they may feel when reading those words. I’m sorry if things are tough for you, but like I said, we all have our bad days, months or even years.

Oh yes, we all experience those bad times, (notice how witty rhetoric escapes me when I have mine), but as I really do not have any intention of wollowing, the smile should be back tomorrow. But until the humour returns,  I will leave you with a joke. Makes no sense? Read on.

This is a joke that my three year old loves to tell repeatedly. It cracks me up every time. Not because it is so funny but because he cracks up every time he tells it!

KNOCK KNOCK- Whose there?- Cargo- Cargo who?- Cargo beep beep.

Go ahead and smile.

No ones watching!

TIME

February 20th, 2009

Have you noticed how as you get older,  time just flies… (Time flies. When I was young and I used to hear the older folks talking about time flying, I used to wonder what they meant. How did time fly? I used to picture within the realms of my mind, those cartoon images of a clock been hurled through the air. That’s time flying right!)

But back to the point, time really flies as you age. It used to take a lifetime to get around to your next birthday when you were young right? Now I find myself in conversations with my husband as to whether we just turned 34 or if we are approaching our 34th year. (We were born within the same year…… he’s older though……. Thought I would mention it!)

You kind of loose track as you get older. You just remember that you are kind of around that age.  You get stuck in an age haze.  Your days are filled with great moments and occurrences, but numbers just never seem to feature. And what’s also amazing to me is how it just does not seem to matter anymore. Remember when you turned 13. It was like, ooohhh I’m 13. Then you turned 16 and you were like… hey, I’m 16. Then 18. Yes, I’m 18. Then 21… Whhooohhoooo 21. Then 30……. your like… what… did something happen?  What?

I guess as you get older and life becomes crammed with so many other things that matter, those big numbers seem so little, whilst when you were small, those little numbers just seemed so big. Although there are those who seem insistent on those numbers playing a key role in their lives as they age. Those are the people I call Pointless Runners.  What’s a Pointless Runner? A Pointless Runner, are those who lie about their age, or try to conceal it. They devote much of their time trying to act in a way which is contrary to the numbers they have notched up on thier calender. Oh yes, I’m sure we all know one. And why are they Pointless Runners? Because trying to run from the fact that you are the age that you are is pointless. Again, let me refer once more to my husband, (lovely man… and he still has all his own hair… I think). We were talking just the other day about how, in regards to your age,  those numbers just keep climbing but inside you still feel like the person you were at the age of eighteen. The only real difference being that your responsibilities have now quadrupled, and in my case, your body has started having a mind of it’s own. (It’s true. Now when I say loose weight, it won’t listen… and it used to be so responsive when I was in my twenties. But that’s another post). To me, I guess the truth of the matter is that the number does not really matter. That’s just there for official use, so that the man can categorize you and place you within society. It’s there to remind us of who within our social groupings are the ones who need to be putting something in place  for the younger generation that are soon to follow. It is there to remind us of our social responsibilities, our social standing. But the truth is that within ourselves, in our hearts… we are as young as we feel. And I don’t think that there is anything wrong with that. There is nothing wrong with being young at heart. I am. And I guess that shows in my approach to this life that we are blessed to be living. Right now, times are not too easy for me, but with a spring in my step I look forward to the new day with hope and optimism, as it could well be the day that turns everything around for me. However, do not get being young at heart confused with immaturity and irresponsibility. Those numbers that continue to climb demand that we mature, they demand that we take responsibility and we have an obligation within our social sphere to do so. But we can still do so with a song in our hearts and a smile on our face right? I think so. Oh… and because you are young at heart, it does not mean that you have to dress like a child in torment. No 34 year old woman should be dressing like a seventeen year old cheerleader and no fifty year old male should be dressing like a twenty one year old DJ. You know I am right.

Time passes by so quickly, so quickly… and it can never be  reclaimed. Once a moment is lost, it can never be regained. So my advice to you… don’t loose that moment. Live life to the fullest. Relish every second. Make every memory a good one. Although, as you age, the concept of a good memory changes. The fact that you can remember the details of a specific event alone makes it a good memory. You can remember… it’s good. Whilst a bad memory is one you can not remember.  What happened yesterday? Oh I can’t remember. Oh that’s bad. Hence a bad memory!  And so in essence, I conclude by stating that yes time flies, embrace life and live, be proud of your age but don’t let it make or break you… and most important of all… if you can remember what happened yesterday… be thankful, as tomorrow you may not remember what happened today.

Peace.

No Valentine

February 13th, 2009

He said…..

Let our bodies intertwine,

As you become my Valentine,

Let me hold you down so hard,

Let me trump you with my card,

Let our feelings overflow,

Show you what you need to know.

He said, Let me make you smile again,

Cause I ain’t seen that smile since I don’t know when,

Let me show you what I got,

Light your fire, make you hot.

He said, Let me cover you with chocolate rain,

Give you a sense of the sweetest pain.

Let me free the light in you,

That is all I want to do.

Let me hear you call my name,

You don’t have to feel no shame,

Let me make your soul just shine,

Let me be your Valentine.

 

 

I said…….

Boy what the hell is wrong with you.

That’s not what I’m here to do.

I told you if you bother me again,

We no longer will be friends.

I said, I haven’t got any interest in you,

So here is what we’re gonna do,

You concentrate on your work and I’ll concentrate on mine.

For all your rubbish I have no time.

I said, Do you realise this is our place of work,

And you’re here again acting like a jerk,

Talking about laying me down, taking me to bed,

Don’t make me knock you in your head.

And worst of all your wife’s at home,

Always calling on the phone,

Telling you the nicest things,

Talking about the joy that you bring.

If my husband knew of all the rubbish you talk,

He’d make you run before you could walk,

He’d tie your body in a knot,

So stop this crap, you hear me stop.

I said,  you see the way you walk around this place,

With that smile spread across your face,

Chatting up all the females,

Sending us those offensive e-mails.

I said, this is a new day and it has to stop,

Or right in it I will make you drop,

‘Cause of your crap I am so so tired,

Stop it or I’ll get you fired!

 

 

 

He said, OK.

Seven Things

February 12th, 2009

During a workshop my husband was asked,

To name 7 things about him others did not know,

And seeing you and I have only just met,

I decided to give it a go.

Whilst my life partner had to ponder on detail,

On me this burden does not fall,

As this is only our first meeting,

And you know nothing about me at all.

So come, let us go and get started,

You know this is gonna be fun,

And after you’ve read through all seven,

Drop a line to say how well you think I have done.

I have two dogs, Copper and Maxwell,

One’s a pure bitch, the other is male,

Gerry B. Joseph has never had an arm that has broken,

Gerry B. Joseph has never gone to jail.

Beer is a terrible vice of mine,

I drink until my stomach grows bigger,

Then I look in the mirror and complain about

The lose of my incredible figure.

Now if you really look closely,

Facts given already are eight,

So I think it’s ok for me to stop now,

Though you may think that not too great.

But I have already gone passed the seven,

Honey,  that is truly enough,

And if what has been mentioned is not insightful,

Sweetheart that simply is too tough.

Remember this is only our first meeting,

And mystery is where it should be at,

And so with a kiss and a wink of an eye,

I state baby, that’s the end of all that.

Awake Blog, Awake

February 12th, 2009

And now the issue arises, as how to begin this. This blog. This B-L-O-G. I have so much to write about, but how much should I commit to this technological world of thought sharing, memoir building. This unsolicited new age form of journal keeping. I wish, (and this is true) to surrender all. Allow you to know my inner thoughts, dreams, wishes and desires. I wish to purge my soul and set ideas free. Ideas that have been in-captured within my mind, the brain’s, squishy squashy grey matter for far too long. My problem is however, how does one do so without offending your husband, mother, father, sister, brother………… (Oh sorry, I don’t actually have a brother. But I have a feeling that in writing an honest blog I would still do some sort of damage to a non-existing one). Do not get me wrong, there is nothing negative I could put down in regards to those closest to me, it’s not about the negative. ( I sound like a bad rapper!) However, the question remains, would they really want me to share what to them maybe sacred, simply because I feel that there is a lesson, or message, or feeling of universal oneness to be got through a tale involving them. Simply because I feel the tale will stimulate thought, bring about joy, promote laughter, incite conversation, smiles, and tears, does not make it my story alone. Consider this- one man ’s small but secret reflection, could well be an-other’s – oh my goodness!!! Can you believe that? story.

Oh yes, I have a lot to tell. I have a lot rolling around and around within the confines of this human helmet of mine. The fact that so much is rolling as it is, makes me wonder if there is not too much empty space up there, and maybe the brain matter mentioned before is in fact absent. Hear the whistling, as the wind passes through the empty ghost town, but I digress.  (I’ve always wanted to say that.) The truth is that I am a woman in her mid-thirties. I was born and bred in East London to Caribbean parents. My friends were of all hues and persuasions. My life was pretty good. I was lucky enough to have made some good friends growing up, many of which I still carry with me as I approach the big 4 – 0. (Dear God!) I say Dear God a lot I’m afraid. I don’t see it as calling the Lord’s name in vain, and to be quite honest it’s a lot nicer than many an exclamation that my ears are so privy to nowadays. Dear God  is my way of expressing dismay to the only force that could help me with something beyond the realms of man’s measly powers.  Say my dismay has to do with the fact that I simply just keep getting older in years, whilst staying a teenager at heart and I want the endless pile of numbers that keep being thrust my way to stop being delivered to me on a certain day of the year…. every year! Could a bank teller stop this from happening? No. Could the milk man? No. Can Jay-Z? No. What about the girl who serves me in my local supermarket every Friday? No. Could my MP help? Actually, it’s questionable if he could actually help himself with anything. Well anyway, the answer is no. So in all, I call on God, and can the great force help me? Yes, yes, a hundred times, yes. We are talking about God people, I mean come on! But to be honest, in regards to this certain situation, the right question would be, would he help me in regards to this superficial dismay? Now, sorry to say, but the answer would be NO. People age… get over it Little G, God says. Yeah, thanks Big G, I reply.  And in essence that brings us back to square one, as there is nothing that can be done (or really should be done) to aid my plight. And thus, I call on two words to make me feel better, i say them loud and with angst in my heart, Dear God, I say, Dear God.

After I completed University, back in ‘96, I moved to the island of St. Lucia in the Caribbean. What a beautiful island. I am now the mother of two beautiful boys and the wife of a highly complex professional man. My husband is my best friend and worst enemy rolled into one. He has the ability to build me up and tear me down. He makes me laugh, he makes me cry. He continuously makes me shout out Dear God.  All the while however, I love him wholeheartedly. He is a good man. One I respect and one who I have admiration for,  but sometimes… Well that’s for another FEW posts.

Up until I had my last son three years ago, I was a feisty career woman. Scaling new heights everyday within the media industry, yet occurrences beyond my control, coupled with the birth of my last child, saw me take an extremely long hiatus from  the life that was previously mine. Now, I find myself sometimes unemployed, sometimes hustling between unfulfilling jobs that can fit in around my family. I love my family and I am blessed and honoured to have had the opportunity to have spent this critical time with my sons and husband. It was nice to have been a stay at home mum for a while, but now, I need to get back to work.  I was once a woman of industry, large and in charge, (OK not that big but big enough). I used to be wielding power and giving orders. I have now traded in my power suit for a cooker and duster. As much as I love being wife and mother, and God honestly I do, I miss being that career woman. I miss being self-dependant, independent me. It has been three years now, and I need to get back into the game, before all trace of my former self is lost in an absence of self-confidence.

And so begins my blog, Letting Go, Whilst Holding On, as there is so much I refuse to let go of and must hold onto, whilst there is much I must set free. I am the glue that binds my family together and I will not  let what we have begun to build come undone,  but I need a little more. Whoever said juggling a family and a career was easy.. lied. Sacrifices are called for on all sides, and each time one is made, you are left with remorse in your heart. But decisions have to be made, things have to be done, and I must carry on. Sometimes I will enlighten you as to how it is going, but for now, allow the lights to go down on the stage. I am exiting. (Actually I need to be with my youngest. He has a bad cough, and only mummy’s love will do). So do take care and check out the poem I also posted today. It is my closing monologue and is called Seven Things.