A place to show my work
In the quiet of the night,
Fears creep in, a bubbling fright.
Thoughts of being all alone,
Without a friend, a heart, a home.
Life feels tough, the path unclear,
A helping hand can calm my fear.
A partner’s voice, a family’s care,
Brings warmth and love, a bond so rare.
With every day, I take a step,
Facing doubts, I won’t forget.
I’ll find the strength to stand up tall,
For in my heart, love conquers all.
There once was a time of routine,
Where attending meant being seen.
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But in this new age,
We sit on a virtual stage,
With faces on screens that are clean.
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No longer do we gather in crowds,
Or walk through busy city ploughed.
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Our meetings are online,
A new way to align,
But oh, how we miss the real sounds.
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We now click the link to attend,
A virtual world we must blend.
–
No handshakes or hugs,
Just tiny camera shrugs,
Oh, how we long for the end.
–
We see each other through pixels,
But our connection is still critical.
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Though it may not feel right,
It’s our reality in sight,
As we navigate this new ritual.
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So let’s raise a glass to the screen,
For it’s the only way we can convene.
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But soon we’ll reunite,
In person, it’ll be right,
Until then, virtual will reign supreme.
The Grim Reaper is a sight to see,
With cloak and scythe, as tall as can be.
He roams around with a wicked grin,
But don’t worry, he’s just here to win!
With a laugh that sends shivers down your spine,
He’s not as scary as he seems, most of the time.
So if you meet him, don’t let out a peep,
He’s just doing his job, so let him reap!
Weird Fun Facts
Geography and Landmarks:
Australia is wider than the moon.
All my life I longed for curls galore,
Not straight and sleek—oh, I wanted more!
With twists and loops, I’d bounce down the street,
Dancing and twirling, life felt so sweet.
But mornings were tough, my hair on a mission,
Flat and rebellious, oh, the frustration!
Then one day I found a magical foam,
Gave my hair curls—now it feels like home!
So here’s to the curls that swirl in the air,
Finally, I’ve got the hair I declare!
In the still of the night, questions take flight,
Will someone ever love me, and hold me tight?
I walk with my baggage, a heavy heart’s weight,
A journey of sorrows that plays on my fate.
Each piece of my past, like stones in my pack,
A story of heartache that I can’t hold back.
Yet in the shadows, a flicker of hope,
That love, warm and gentle, can help me cope.
I dream of a day when I’ll lay down my load,
And find in another a shared, winding road.
Together we’ll navigate the fears that I hide,
With trust as our compass, and hearts open wide.
So here I stand still, beneath starlit skies,
Embracing the journey, with love as my prize.
Though I carry my baggage, I’ll trust in the spark,
That love has a way of igniting the dark.
From the world’s best of bad jokes and puns,
Why did the termites give up on eating the grandfather clock?
It was too time-consuming
25 five years ago
On June 26, 2000, scientists announced the completion of a basic structural map of the human genome.
Warm feeling inside grows each minute.
No need to worry or stress now.
Just enjoying the time here
Sitting and pondering
About all & nothing.
Now enjoying
Protecting
Inner
Peace
A great teacher shines like the morning sun,
Warming hearts and minds, they inspire everyone.
With a spark of knowledge, they light up the way,
Fostering love for learning, come what may.
Inspiring the restless, the lost, and the shy,
Their kindness a beacon, reaching deep into the sky.
Approachable, friendly, with passion they teach,
In every small moment, they strive to reach.
Adaptable spirits, with patience they stand,
Listening intently, with a gentle hand.
Always improving, they seek to grow,
A guiding light in the classroom’s glow.
So here’s to the teachers, both near and far,
For lifting our spirits and raising the bar.
In their endless warmth, we find our place,
A haven for learning, a nurturing space.
In the stillness of the night, dreams draw near,
Whispers of the heart, only the soul can hear.
In the drawer of the mind, memories unfold,
Stories of the past, both cherished and told.
Sketches of the past, intricately drawn,
Bright colors of laughter, shadows of the dawn.
In the heart’s hidden drawer, emotions spawn,
A tapestry woven from dusk until dawn.
There once was a pack of dogs,
With a loyalty that sparked no fogs.
They made a bold pact,
To get their gold back,
From the sly, sneaky cats in their clogs.
M.A.D. Works 