With Debbie Chilton

Author and Poet

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Month of Poetry begins with a bang!
















Intoxicated

Not me
Everyone else
Yet I suffer
The hangover effect.

From the constant explosions
As 2012 began
Showering with exploding colour
Over my head.

The sound
Still pounds in my heart
As another cracker
Is about to explode.

Such an onslaught
Broke my fragile nerves
And the light show
Trigging me into semi consciousness.

As another seizure
Hijacks my body
And violently shook
Me into exhaustion.

So like so many
I started 2012 intoxicated
The hangover lingers
Without  the seedy feeling.

© Debbie Chilton, January `1  2012      

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Poet's Anouncement

During January I will be taking part in Queensland Poetry Month of Poetry. The Challenge before me is to write a poem, or part of a poem, or rewrite a poem every day in January. That's 31 poems in 31 days or near to to it. As the start date nears it seems more daunting.  To late now I've signed up.  So expect some words to appear on the screen during January.  All related posts will be tagged #MoP12! Catch up later!

Powerful Imagines


He waits

The old man sits alone
In a semi lit room
Looking out the window
And waits . . .

He sat there too yesterday
And the day before
As though he was waiting
For someone to come . . .

But no one came
No one sent flowers
No one remembered his birthday
No Christmas cards on the wall.

No one has come
Since the police left
That was two years ago
His only daughter died.

No one came to the church
No one sent flowers
He sat alone and said good-bye
And now he waits . . .

Alone in the semi-darkness
In his nursing home room
There are again no cards
This Christmas.

As he sits waiting
For the end of his journey to come
And waiting comes to end
Then he will never feel alone again.

Debbie Chilton Copyright (c) 2011
All Rights Reserved 

Monday, December 5, 2011

Playing around with more words.

I rewrote "The Book Man" last night.

Original Source: BookFari 2011 


Finding The Book Man
Somewhere in the library,
Lurks a kind and gentle soul,
Within these rows and rows of books,
Sits the old and wise bookman.

Although I’ve search every shelf,
I’ve never seen the book man,
So I’m asking for your help,
Find the book man and take a photo please?

I’m told he hides from library staff,
Only coming out once the lights are out,
Feeling threatened by new technology,
Thus fearing for his own extinction.

I fear the poor old book man,
Has buried himself in a hole,
He fears the ruthless library staff,
Who toss out relics like himself.

Now I’ll let you into his secret,
As I hear the bookman has a job to do,
He’s made it his life’s mission,
To read every book there is.

Each night he scans the Childrens books,
Too be sure they meet with his approval,
Spying on the teenage novels this night owl,
Is worried about the teenage pranks today,

His always fishing through the non-fiction,
Just in case there’s the smallest detail he has missed,
For fresh information it’s the newspaper he turns to,
But he’s never ventured on to the internet.

The Book Man now finds himself quite put out,
As the staff are kicking out his dearest friends,
To make way for the modern era and latest trends,
These fancy e-book readers don’t look like books to him. 

Should you unearth the hole
Where the book man’s found his hide
Can you take his picture?
On the chance staff catch him & toss him out.

Thank you
Debbie  Chilton Copyright (c) 2011 

Thursday, December 1, 2011

I'm playing games again


The Book Man
I’m sure you’ve never meet the book man,
He only appears at the library in the middle of the night,
He only takes his eye piece out once the staff are out of sight.
Where he sits during daylight hours I do not know.

I’m sure he scans the Children’s books,
Too be sure they meet with his approval,
Spying on the teenage novels this night owl,
Is worried about the teenage pranks today,

His always fishing through the non-fiction,
Just in case there’s the smallest detail he has missed,
For fresh information the newspaper is his wish,
But he’s never ventured on to the Internet.

He’s the Book Man and he’s feeling quiet put out,
The library staff keep kicking out his oldest dearest friends,
To make way for the modern era and the latest trends,
These fancy e-book readers don’t look like books to him.

Should you be so cleaver to uncover where he hides,
I hope to take his picture just in case the staff catch him,
And toss the old book man out with Colleens Tim,
And the rest of his tired and torn friends.
Thank you
Debbie Chilton Copyright 2011

Monday, October 17, 2011

The Food Game


What’s On The Table

While a table of food can draw us together,
As we celebrate the seasons of life,
The food on that table makes a statement
About who’s about  to enjoy its contents.

Same table, same occasion
Different people, with different income,
Different people, from different countries,
And the food on the table looks very different.

Food that draws us as a community
Now divides us
What’s on the table now . . .
Labels us . . . .

The have's or the have's not,
The urban or the rural,
The developed or the developing,
The thriving or the surviving.

Food! With the power to unite,
Divides and destroys
Humanity with the grip of greed,
Taking whatever it can.

Nothing shows the divide between people,
More than the food they put on the table,  
A snap photo of a dinner table
Paints the perfect picture of those about to eat it! 

What’s on the table at your place tonight?
And what will it tell me about you?

Debbie Chilton Copyright (#BAD 11) 2011
 All Rights Reserved

Friday, September 9, 2011

Written on a dare!


The true state of Queensland Health
A patient was rushed into emergency,
One look at her told me she needed heart surgery,
She laid there still looking very grey,
If we didn’t find a theatre she wouldn't live beyond a day.

She looked such a pitiful sight,
I knew things with this patient weren’t quite right,
The only sound from her I could hear,
Was her gristly grasp for air.

Having paged the surgeon,
To find her next of kin was urgent,
When I asked her name the staff all looked at me,
Do you not recognize it is Queensland Health that you see.

We’ve know for years of her heart failure,
And cause numerously warnings of the dangers,
She insisted on working under distress,
Refusing to acknowledge her internal system was in a mess.

We warned her about her daily habits,
The impending direct havoc about to sweep,  
The long hours and lack of sleep,
No knowing when she’d get a bit to eat.

No ones system can be sustained,
Placed under constant stress and strain,
All night surgeries trying to minimize patient waiting times,
The government gave no thanks, demanding more for the same dimes.

Her hand was forced after long hours trying to balance the books
She had to close down wards and to axing staff hours she took,
Staff falls due to carrying to heavy paper loads increased,
And computer systems which received no upgrades just ceased.

Frankly we may be in the business of saving lives,
But I hold great fears that Queensland Health has used her nine lives.
The surgeon arrived and held his breath, it best you say your good byes,
If only she let us operate while still time instead of asking why.

So they wheeled her into theatre and made their first insertion,
But blood oozed from every where to continue seemed the wrong decision,
It was time to break the news, she must of been bleeding internally for days,
There was simply nothing we could do with Queensland Health there are too many delays.

Debbie Chilton, Copyright 2011
All Rights Reserved

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

A Play On Words!


DISability!
Is that all you see my friend,
Such a small part of me,
Is that really all you can see?

DisABILITY!
Can you see this my friend?
When you chose to see
Every part of me!

So you see my friend,
DISaiblity?
What disability?
All I sense are my abilities!

Disability you say,
What about how to overcome,
Them I say,
All I see is a few hurdles in the way.

Nothing that can’t be removed,
Nothing too hard my abilities can’t improve,
They told me once the ‘right way’ things are done,
But I’ll telling you theres more ways to do things than one.  

Some may have a hissy fit,
At the way I make a fix,
What does it matter if it don’t look right?
As long as I try with all my might.

Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright 2011
All rights reserved

Australian Poetry Week - SHARE IT!


LITTLE GEMS!

I may have a disability,
But let’s focus on ABILITIES!
My would contains many gems,
So let me share a few of them.

To fight for those who can’t speak,
To look for answers they can’t seek,
To be a voice through my pen,
By spilling out my little gems.

I look at the world with different eyes,
To share my secrets with the unwise,
To learn to laugh, love and play,
To plan adventures for future days!

To challenge that of status quo,
To laugh even when I’m feeling low,
To inspire people to dream,
Challenging them to swim up stream,

To show the world a different way,
Inviting them to come and play,
Although I need to bend the rules,
I too can play to secure my jewels.

Ok so my gems may differ,
And you play a little quicker,
I can still win this game of life,
Gaining my piece of paradise,

Friday, August 26, 2011

The Letters, Words and Lines


Lines

Lines -
Lines they appear on a page . . .
Word after word; after word
They string together . . .
To bring meaning . . .
To share thoughts and feelings.
To reveal a story . . .
Forming on a page.

Lines -
Lines they appear on a page . . .
Word after word; after word
As each letter hits the ‘page’,
A message forms . . .
Through the gathering words  
Given by an author
To their readers.

Lines -
Lines they appear on a page . . .
Word after word; after word
They shape novels, stories and poems . . .
They sing the songs of our hearts,
Of love lost and found,
Battles won and lost . . .
And dreams yet to be achieved.

Lines -
Lines they appear on a page . . .
Word after word; after word
They are the song of a poet’s heart
Given meaning to the yearning of
Their minds and souls . . .
Lines - that which poets can not live without!


Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright 2011
All Rights Reserved

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Come and meet me . . .


Through the window

You’re looking through my window,
Would like to see,
What it is to live,
As someone who is different.

Come in!
Make yourself at home,
Yeah! It’s different,
Even peculiar at times.

But have a cuppa,
It won’t take much time,
You looked through my window.
That makes you curious about who I am.

Let me share of my passions
And you do the same,
Sure we look different,
I bet we’re alike too!

Thank you! A listening ear,
In this moment in time,
If you come again,
Please enter through the door.

(The eyes are the window to the soul) Copyright (c)  April 2011

Friday, August 5, 2011

Memories


She Smiles and She Laughs

She laughs,
and she smiles
Unaware of this thing
Growing inside.

Today she’s watching
Her daughter playing in the bath,
She laughs
And she smiles.

Not knowing,
She’ll never have another child,
Because already the cells
Have begun too divide.

She laughs,
And she smiles,
As she throws her head back,
Today the girls are hitting a round of golf.

She’s unaware of the mass growing inside,
The cancer cells don’t repair
But they still divide and
Attach together like cement,  

She laughs
And she smiles,
As the girls have morning tea,
They laugh as children play on the swings,

Not knowing
Of the mass now
Growing rapidly inside,
Soon she won’t feel up to a cup tea.

She laughs
And still smiles,
Even though she feels tired,
She smiles at the little girl playing on the floor.

Unaware deadly cells
Have just pushed
Through the bowel wall
And there to they gather and begin to multiply.

She laughs
And she smiles,
As she peeps through the door,
She sees her girl playing in her room.

Still not knowing
Of the invader growing,
Inside her womb,
That killer is about to be announce,

She laughs
And she smiles,
Curled up in the arms of her man,
She’s been tired for days and doesn’t know why,

Unaware of the killer,
That’s been growing inside,
She pops to the loo,
And discovers there's blood in the bowl,

She laughs it off,
And flashes her smile,
Coffee and cake,
Take her mind off it for a while,

Meanwhile the mass
That’s been growing inside,
Is trying to break and enters,
Into the lung.

Today there’s no laugher,
There’s been more blood in the bowl,
She cries so we don’t see her smile,
She’s been to the doctor and had lots of tests.

Now she knows of the masses inside,
The doctors think it started in an ovary,
It’s in her bowel and there’s a spot in the lung,
A full hysterectomy at the age of thirty-one,

Instead of her laugh,
We hear the anguish of her cry,
Tomorrow is her surgery,
She cries for two children she wanted one day.

She’s wheeled into surgery,
And the truth of her killer soon revealed,
They take out the uterus ovaries and all,
Sadly they’ve also taken her bowel.

She wakes and her smile breaks,
As she looks at the man that she loves,
Until they tell things just didn’t look good,
Today there’s no laughter, only tears in her eyes.

She’s had three months of radiation,
And almost a year of chemo on and off,
That spot on her lung has grown some more,
She cries as the doctors say they can do no more.

For a few more months she laughs with her daughter,
And smiles through the long days of pain,
She curls into the strong arms of her man,
She’s now just so weak.

She tries to hold her head up and laugh,
Instead all she can do is smile at her child,
Reflecting how much she’s grown,
As she plays with her father, on the front lawn.

The laugh is now silent,
No more I see her smile,
I can’t help these tears that roll down my face,
As I describe her laugh and the smile on her face.

Debbie Chilton Copyright (c) 2011 (August)
All Rights Reserved

Friday, July 29, 2011

Be Warned Facebookers


Social Networking

Spreads like oozing larva
Only it can be controlled
Its path can be redirected
For good or evil
The choice is ours.

Amazed!
I’ve just opened a Google account
It connects me to blogger and
Blogger to my facebook account
And more . . .

Should I be afraid?
This spider like creature
Knows who I am
Once I sign into any one of
My Google powered social network sites.

Like a child joining the dots
In his colouring book
A click of my mouse
Allows me to link
Countless pages to my facebook wall.

It remembers me
And takes me straight to my wall
Should I be trusting this spider
How poisonous is its vermin
Will it turn back to bite me?

If I can jump from page to page
Without being asked for my password
Is the information safe with
This creature with spreading tentacles
From hackers who too click with their mouse.

Will the stint of the malting larva    
Be protection enough
From the lurking prey
That set their traps
In the triangles of social networking world.

Yet what a tool it is
Through the process of my working day
To have all my business contacts
On one page
Altering me to opportunities to spread my wings.

Giving me the power to connect
With writers, publishers and industry supports
Altering me to workshops, competitions
While linking me to other bloggers
I guess I need to trust the spider won’t bite me.

Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright July 2011
All Rights Reserved

Monday, July 25, 2011

Gift Wrapping


A PARCEL FROM HEAVEN

If I were a parcel sent from heaven,
Would you attempt to send me back,
Would you say to God, he ‘got the packaging wrong’,
Would you suggest he change this or that.

If I were a parcel sent from heaven,
Would you choose to look inside,
Would you look beyond what you saw,
Would you allow me through your door.

If I were a parcel sent from heaven,
Would you be happy just to enjoy,
Would you resist the temptation to analyse me,
Would you be content with the beauty in me.

Oh, my friend, why can’t you see,
I am truly a parcel from heaven;
Why do you look at me as though what you see is wrong,
Instead of enjoying the beauty that is me.

Copyright (c) Debbie Chilton
All Rights Reserved

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Will You Take Time To Listen To Me


SOMETHING TO SAY

Hey you! Out there!
I’ve got something to say,
I’ll only take a moment of your time,
While I rap my little rhyme.

Hey you! Out there!
I’ve got something to say,
Please don’t choose to walk by,
I know my speech is different that’s why,

I shout, Hey you! Out there!
I’ve got something to say,
Please don’t turn your heads away,
Come walk in my shoes and see things my way.

Hey man what you doing out there?
Come in here I’ve got something to say,
Now we all have to live in society,
So lets enjoy our variety.

You out there, yes you!
Listen, hear me, I’ve got something to say.
You may see me as weak,
And wish me not to speak.

But I’ll scream and shout!
Hey you! Out there!
I’ve got something to say,
Here we go, hey!

Copyright (c) Debbie Chilton
 All Rights Reserved 

Please Explain!


Carbon Tax More Questions Than Answers

How will a carbon tax change our lives,
How will the tax curve our behaviour,
Will we stop to think before turning on a light,
Or think before we take the car instead of walk.

Will the only change we see is increased prices,
Paying more for petrol, power and food,
This is meant to be a tax on companies,
Not on you and me.

In reality are we just facing another GST,
A tax passed on to us.
I can’t help ask,
How will it actually change companies’ behaviour?

I can’t help but ask how the tax will profit the environment,
Will mining of fossil fuels stop,
Will clean fuels be found,
Will companies pay to explore green alternatives.

To me the carbon tax seems to convenient,
The government shifting its responsibility,
Trusting companies to change there behaviour,
Instead of asking you and me to pay their tax.

It is not our tax to pay.
It is an incentive for companies to change,
What they produce and how they produce it,
But all I hear is talk of increased cost of living.

If you ask me the message of the reduction in omissions,
Has been lost,
I can’t help sit here and wonder is the Carbon Tax,
The answer to greenhouse omissions.

Now don’t get me wrong I’m all for a Carbon Tax,
If the tax achieves its intended purpose.

Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright 2011
All Rights Reserved
    

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Just Thought I'd Ask The Question



Carbon

Carbon footprint
Breath if you dare
Expel carbon where you are
Leaving your everlasting footprint
Carbon tells us you we're here

Carbon is a natural element
Safe in its natural state
Forming part of the carbon cycle
Transforms into a toxic gas
A fabric of life


Being omitted  
Forms to gas
Exposing the atmosphere
To a potential dangerous unbalance
Sparking a irreversible change to the environment

But I ask you
Is carbon pollution avoidable
We know we all extract carbon
But is industry polluting the environment
Enough to warm the earth?

Is this only part of the carbon cycle
And global warming part of
A natural cycle of the earth
or are they right
Are we slowly destroying the earth?  


Questions to which I do not know the answer!

Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright 2011
All right reserved
  
* This piece of work doesn't reflect my views on Carbon Omissions, Carbon Tax or Global Warming 

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Reality Shopping

Our Preconceptions 




A Child . . .
Curious with wonder
knows this person is different
but he is not afraid
he lingers . . .
and reaches forward
as if he needs to know who this person is

The Mother . . .
A look of embarrassment on her face
pulling the child away
lifting the child up turns away
making their escape

The child . . .
Continues to reach towards
to the person that is different . . .
            he is curious that is all! 

The Woman in the wheelchair. . .
Sits in her wheelchair drooling
              Shifting uncomfortably trying to smile.

The child . . .
              Smiles back
              and laughs

The mother . . .
              Snatches him away.

The woman in the wheelchair . . .
              Wonders if this is how attitudes are formed

The checkout chick . . .
              It’s been a long day
              her feet hurt
              her mind is on picking up the kids
              cooking dinner
              Sam’s soccer practice
              she mumbles ‘How are you?’
              failing to make eye contact

The woman in the wheelchair . . .
              Fine
              she is annoyed as she fumbles through her purse

The checkout chick. . .
              Looks impatient
              tapping on the counter
              looking at the growing queue
              as she takes the money

Other customers . . .
             Smile
             the lady behind the woman tells her not to rush
             gentleman at the back changes queues
             others shift on their feet

The checkout chick . . .
            Almost throws four full bags
            at the woman
have a nice day
no eye contact again
begins scanning the next ladies items
"How are you today?"
            not that she cares

Teenagers at the taxi rank . . .  
            Hair hangs over their faces
            laughing
            nudging each other
            chewing on gum
            "What you looking at?"

The woman in the wheelchair . . .
            Looks away
            she knows she was staring
            it is her turn to feel embarrassed
            she feels ashamed
            she is also nervous
            there’s a group of them
            and one of her

Teenagers at the taxi rank . . .
            Laugh louder
            two eyeball each other
            one spits on the ground
            they all laugh
            another spits out his gum
            "Hey spastic you got a smoke?"
            more laughter

The woman in the wheelchair  . . .
            Tries to slide down in her chair
            she tucks her head into her collar
            hoping the grow bored and go away

Teenagers at the taxi rank . . .
            see her cowering
            they laugh
            they know they have a game on their hands
The woman in the wheelchair . . .
            Relieved
            her taxi has just pulled up

Taxi driver . . .
            Looks at his watch
            its almost knock off time
            on a Friday afternoon
            he’s going to the game tonight
            getting home is all he thinks about
            as he lowers the lift

The woman in the wheelchair . . .
Wheels onto the lift
she clutches on while she is raised
then wheels into the van

Taxi diver . . .
            Grunts instructions
            forwards
            back . . . back
            woo . . . woo . . . woo!
            he throws straps everywhere
            impatient
he is thinking of getting to the game on time
he is aware the clock is ticking
he jumps off the ramp
to fold it away

The woman in the wheelchair and the taxi driver . . .
            Do not speak during the journey
            she is exhausted
            he needs to get to the game on time
            both are relieved when she pays her fare

The woman in the wheelchair . . .
            Yawns
            she feels disheartened
            placing the shopping in the kitchen
            her mind searches for understanding
            then she smiles
            she has remembered the child
            and the patient lady behind her at the checkout
            suddenly the world seems a better place.

Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright, 2010
All Rights Reserved

Friday, July 15, 2011

My Philosophy

LITTLE GEMS!

I may have a disability,
But let’s focus on ABILITIES!
My world contains many gems,
So let me share a few of them.

To fight for those who can’t speak,
To look for answers they can’t seek,
To be a voice through my pen,
By spilling out my little gems.

I look at the world with different eyes,
To share my secrets with the unwise,
To learn to laugh, love and play,
To plan adventures for future days!

To challenge that of status quo,
To laugh even when I’m feeling low,
To inspire people to dream,
Challenging them to swim up stream,

To show the world a different way,
Inviting them to come and play,
Although I need to bend the rules,
I too can play to secure my jewels.

Ok so my gems may differ,
And you play a little quicker,
I can still win this game of life,
Gaining my piece of paradise.

Debbie Chilton 2011 (c) Copyright 
All Rights Reserved

Friday, July 8, 2011

Online

Online

Online I can chose be no one
Invisible to the human eye,
Online I may choose to make my mark
By the way I create and build my profile.

Online I present like anyone else,
No one can see how different I am,
Online my disabilities are hidden
Unless I don’t want them to be,
 
Online I can be me
Nothing is gained by pretences,
Online no physical barriers exist
Between me and others in the online world,

Online it doesn’t matter if you’re
Fat or thin; tall or short, white or black,
Online I am like everybody else
Putting my thoughts, feeling and opinions out there,

Online my words count
As much as the next person,
No one challenges the validity of my words
Due to misconceptions of who I may be,

 Online my general appearance reflects
That of anybody else. . . Online
Online my thoughts, feelings and opinions,
Go unquestioned.

Offline. . . The reality is
I know we all judge others,
Online . . . Just as we judge others
When we’re Offline.

Online the difference is
They too are invisible to me,
Online unless people tell me direct
I can’t see how they react!

Debbie Chilton (c) Copyright 2011
 All Rights Reserved