Warnie 

It was the Ball of the Century

That left Gatting in dismay 

And for a cricket loving nation,

A legend was born that day.

A right arm spin bowler 

Was here to play the game,

A good looking boy next door

Shane Warne was his name.

His mastery of Leg spin

Tore the Poms apart

The commentators gushed

As he revived a dying art.

A blonde haired blue eyed hero 

Was here to save the day 

His freaky right-armed leg break

Left England in disarray .

Seven hundred and eight

 test wickets to his name 

And handy right armed batsman

 Is how he rose to fame.

He had his share of trouble

He was a larrikin of sorts

But everyone forgave him 

‘Cause he was King of his sport. 

A generous heart and spirit 

Won respect from all his peers

Whether on the field playing

Or kicking back with beers.

Friend of royals and rockstars

But Aussie through and through

No matter where he went 

He always stayed true blue.

A nations heart is broken 

We’ve lost a favourite son,

I hope he’s up in heaven 

Playing with The Don.

Bowling down that leg break 

And watch it come back in 

Knock the bails flying 

Hail ,The King of Spin!

By Julie Scott (www.juliespoems.com)

The Beach
When the sun starts to bite
And the cicadas screech
Time to pack the car
and head to the beach.
It’s not very far that
You have to drive
To a place you can relax,
Swim, surf, or dive.
Just the sight of the ocean
Makes you feel unstressed
And with so many choices
we are truly blessed.
The ultramarine sky
And clear water below.
The sand on the shore
Almost as white as snow .
Sea breeze blows gently,
Waves licking your toes,
Gulls winging above
And salt air in your nose.
Sounds of kids laughing
As they fill up their pails
Dogs chasing balls
And wagging their tails
Lay on your towel
And read a good book
Or throw in a line
And see what you hook.
Paddle out a board
And catch a nice wave
Or maybe do nothing
If that’s what you crave.
The beach offers salvation
From the teaming rat race
It’s a place to unwind
And reset the pace.
It cleanses your body
And heals your soul
When everyday living
Has taken its toll.
When you feel like peace
Is out of your reach
Pack up the car
And head to the beach.

By Julie Scott

Doctor please can you tell me why
My hair is falling and my skin is dry?
My head is aching and I can’t stop crying,
Surely doctor I must be dying?

I’m always grumpy and I cannot sleep
But at the end of the day I crash in a heap.
My brain is foggy and I’ve put on weight
And any opinion I will always debate .

Oh my God , did you turn up the heat?
I’m sweating so much I’m stuck to the seat.
Can you help me ’cause it is such a pain,
If you know what it is can you please explain?

Well Madame , I think I know the cause
It’s a little thing they call Menopause.
Its something all women have to go through,
So it happens to all women not just you.

It may last a few weeks or for 30 years
So really there is no need for those tears.
Try meditation or some natural hormones
I’m sure that should ease all of your moans.

Doctor, isn’t there a pill you can prescribe?
If you don’t I think I’ll commit a homicide.
Do you really want that on your conscience?
So forget all about this natural nonsense.

I really don’t think I can take any more .
So give me HRT before I walk out that door.
I don’t care how much it costs, I will pay !
Why Thankyou doctor , have a nice day 😉

By Julie Scott 2016

 

How do I love thee
Let me count the ways
I love thee in Pinot
I love thee in Merlot
I love thee in Chardonnays.
You relax my body
When you touch my lips.
You warm my insides
With with just a few sips.
You pick me up
When I’m feeling down.
You give me courage.
You make me a clown.
You’re my lover,my abuser
I’m like any drug user
Even when you leave me sore
I’ll always come back for more.

How Did We Survive ?
How did we ever survive as a kid,
When you look at some of the things we did?
Were we made of tougher stuff than today ?
Or were we just allowed to play ?

We’d stay outside till it was dark
We’d ride bikes with no helmets
In the bush or to the park .
On swings ,see-saws and slides that were slippery
Before councils deemed them all too risky.
We’d swim in creeks or any water to be found ,
We’d have ball and none of us drowned .
Cowboys and Indians games were so good
We’d even made arrows out of real wood
We’d shoot each other and no-one did die
And we didn’t even lose an eye .
We’d build cubby houses in the trees ,
Sometimes we fell and skinned out knees.
We drank cordial and ate lollies
And we didn’t get fat ,
We were too busy running around for that .
There was no gluten , soy or dairy -free
Nobody seemed to have an allergy .
We walked to school and made it alive
Nobody ever had to drive
No carpool or drop off zones
No mums driving while using their phones .
Mum was at home working all day
Not at the gym or sipping a latte .
We showed respect for elders and didn’t talk back
If we did we’d get a damn good smack .
If fact the worst thing your parents could say
Was that you had to stay in your room for the day .
Now we buy computers and electronic toys
for all our little girls and boys
And wonder why they just want to hide
In the house and play all day ,
Is it a surprise they want to stay
In their room and never go outside ?

Julie Scott 2016

Missing Socks
Please can you tell me ?
Does anyone know ?
Where do all of my
missing socks go ?
I swear there were two
of them there yesterday
Now there is only one
And I’m left in dismay .
I checked carefully before
putting them in the machine
Now one is gone
Nowhere to be seen.
Is there a sock thief
Who takes great delight
In breaking into houses
Very late at night
And stealing one sock
Just out of spite.
It’s an outrage !
It just isn’t right !

Could it be a fairy who
needs some new clothes?
Or some little creature
Who likes warming his nose?
It’s a dilemma that is
Hard to explain .
Maybe they simply
go down the drain.

I’m sure it’s perplexed
Greater brains than mine ,
I can just imagine
Albert Einstein
Turning to his wife
After pondering a theory,
Looking down at his feet
And posing the query
Where are my socks ?
I have none that match !
What is this mischief
This thief we must catch !
I can work out that E. equals
em cee squared
But tell me why my
socks can’t be paired!!

Something so simple
But inspires so much passion,
Surely it’s time
That we start a new fashion?
Let’s make odd socks
The next big trend
Get out those singles
And find them a friend
So a pink with a green
Or a stripe with a dot
Put them together
wear what you’ve got .
And If the sock thief visits
It won’t be a big deal .
He will be confused
And won’t know
which ones to steal .
By Julie Scott 2016

 

My friend Carol challenged me to write a poem about darts which we play both socially and competitively . Here it is .

Darts.
Let me tell you about a sport
That’s not too taxing
And easily taught.
It is the game that they call darts
It will get you right in when you start.
You don’t need to be an athlete
If you would like to compete .
And you don’t need to be too smart
To learn to throw a decent dart .

You can play with a partner
or on your own,
Down at the pub
or in your own home.
You just throw three darts at a board
Then add up what you have scored,
Subtract all that from five oh one,
Then wait till your opponent is done.
Count down till you get to a double
And if you can’t finish you’ll be in trouble .

Now there is a fine art
to throwing a good dart .
I’ll give a tip that you may want to hear
It’s come to my attention
So I thought I’d better mention
It appears that the secret lies in beer.

Through my careful observations
There seems to be a relation
Between the amount imbibed
and how straight you throw your dart.
So if you’re not partial to an ale
Then you’re probably gonna fail
So I highly recommend that you start .

Beer makes your darts fly straighter
It also makes your girth greater
Which seems to be an asset in the game
Through my scientific calculations
In the field of gravitation
I’ve found that being slim
just doesn’t work the same

You need a belly that is very round
To keep you firmly on the ground
To balance out your throw it would appear
So if you are too skinny,
Then learn to love a tinny
And appreciate the benefits of beer.

So go down to your pub ,tavern or Inn
And find yourself a dartboard
And then you can begin
Aim for triple twenty
if you want a good score
One hundred and eighty
is what we aim for .

But if your throw is a little off either way
You might get bed and breakfast
Or a happy birthday .
But just keep on practising
And I’m sure that it won’t fail ya
And you never know could become
The next PHIL Taylor .
By Julie Scott 2016

Traffic

On your way to work in traffic each day ,
If you could talk to other drivers what would you say ?

Hey Mister Leadfoot is there really a need
To take off from the lights at such a speed?
In traffic like this you won’t get to work faster
And chances are you’ll cause a disaster.

Hey Little Miss Texting and Swerving ,
Put your phone down its a little unnerving .
I’m sure your best friend can wait
To hear what you did on last nights date .

Hey Mr Right Lane Sitter ,
You must know that you make others bitter
Hogging the right lane interrupts the flow
Your selfishness makes the traffic slow.

Hello Madam , didn’t you learn
Those blinky things are for making a turn.
They’re used for changing lanes too
But I guess it doesn’t apply to you .

Hey Mr Tail-Gating ace ,
You really should try leaving some space
You know there is no room for an error
And you’re obviously just causing terror .

Hey Mr Ducking and Weaving
I really don’t know what you think you’re achieving .
Driving like that you are such a pain.
Would it really kill you to stay in one lane ?

With so many bad drivers it’s a surprise
That we really even make it alive .
Driving in traffic can be such a strain
Maybe we’re better off taking the train.

 

Anyone with teenage sons will identify with this. Cheers ?

The Nagger.
Piles of towels on the bathroom floor.
Can you please hang them up
and use them once more?
Those dirty dishes on the end of your bed
Do you think you could put them in the sink instead ?
Could please stick to 3 minute showers ?
And not stay in there for hours and hours
Would it be too much for me to ask
That you put things away when you finish a task ?
Oh you’d like to borrow money for takeaway ?
So I’ll throw that roast dinner I made away.
You can’t take out the Rubbish cause you’re feeling sick ?
You chased that rare Pokemon down pretty quick .
You just keep on with that PlayStation
I’m sure it will help any future vocation .
I’m sure there’s lots of employers who’ll pay ,
You to sit around and and play games all day .
I’m such a nagger as you can see
It’s not your fault it’s all just me
Yes I do pick on you all of the time
It must be time for that glass of wine .

 

This poem is about my son Jarrod who is autistic. His life is a struggle  and I support him as best I can.
Jarrod
He sleeps with the light on
‘Cause he’s afraid of the dark.
Those creatures are lurking
To tear him apart.
He’s under the cover of his bed
To block out the confusion
That runs thru his head.
He screams and he yells
When it all gets too much
And he can’t  bear the feel
Of a comforting touch
But you just want to hold him
And squeeze so him tight
Tell him everything
Is gonna be alright
But he pushes you away
And goes back to his hell
Those voices in his head
Just aren’t gonna quell.
So you give him some space
And you hope and you pray
That maybe some day
It will all go away .

Julie Scott
27/06/2016