Grandad Ballard and with the assistance became a market gardener when he was given the opportunity to buy fertile land in Gisborne after the war. With Nana's helping hands they grew an abundance of kumara.
Category: Poetry
Ronaldo
There are times when reading the local newspaper ignites a smile. Today, was one of those times and prompted this poem.
Rain on me
Walking along muddy trails. listening to the beat of raindrops, nostrils filled with freshened air, catching drops on my tongue - beats a moment of sitting indoors clean and dry.
Goodbye, Dad
Our Dad - no words can fully describe the loss that will be felt for years to come if not all our lives. Though we know it's a blessing that he can now be at peace.
We knew a dog named Blue
During winter's wetter and cooler days, photo sorting seems a constructive way to idle away a few hours. One such day, I came across an image of an old mate who wasn't very photogenic.
Life at No. 22 