This poem came about on my last visit to Perth to see my daughter and grandchildren. There comes a time in all parents lives when they realise they are surplus to needs. I have no doubt my family love me and appreciate all the help given in the past,but when grandchildren get older and families dynamics change grandparents can be in the way. I just felt very lonely during this last visit and wanted to go home.

A Mothers Soliloquy

Good Morning Australia
How will this day be.
I know that tears and sorrow
Will be with me.
Where will I go
Who will I see.
This is not my home
This is not where I should be.

The sun is shining
It’s a bright new day.
But all who love and need me
Are far far away.
I hear birds singing
They are singing to me.
Go home and be happy
This is not the place to be.

I walk on the beach
Watch children at play.
Paddle through the surf
With feelings of dismay .
Listen to the sea-
Calling to me .
Go home and be happy
This is not the place to be .

I return across the oval
Sausages sizzle on the grill.
The BBQs are firing up
The Stubbies nicely chill .
The wind whistles through the trees
Urging me persistently.
Go home and be happy
This is not where you should be.

I came to see my daughter
Who left our cold wet land.
To start life anew
I came to see first hand .
Her home and lifestyle
Was she happy in the sun.
As much as I miss her
I have accepted what she`s done .
Achieved everything she said she would
On this sunny southern shore.
So now I can go home
And worry, no more.

VCook 2008

I have no idea why I wrote this poem,maybe something I had read in the news or seen on TV.
I can see the logic in these words and many follow the Naturalists Code all over the world. I wish I had the nerve.

The Human Form.

Why are people so afraid of the human form
Celebrated from dusk to dawn, where non conform.
When challenged they act quite naive
Become embarrassed when we just slip a sleeve.
To take our clothes off can be a sin
In some company that you are in.
Doctors nurses all agree
We are all the same, you and me.
Some cover their eyes snigger and turn away
When ever the body is on display.
Its seen as lecherous in thought word and deed
To have this unnatural need,
To celebrate the human form.
So speak out create a storm
Stand out from all the rest
To be judged as the best
Is an accolade of the highest degree.
But its really not for me.

Its beautiful wondrous and unique to behold
What God has given. We are told
That it is bad and non PC to enjoy the sight
Of men and women and what they look like
In the buff and looking good.
They are proud and so we should
Give our support to this style of undress

Hey.
Life is for living
Hang-ups are for the Psychiatrist couch.

Val Cook 2009


These poems don`t need any explanation.Life has many twists and turns.

“I do not enter silence it enters me”
Ezra Pound.

Solitude

Empty rooms that echo silence.
Empty heart that loudly beats.
Empty arms that ache to hold you,
Cold and numb that nothing heats.

Thinking of our time together.
Thinking of why you left.
Thinking of my world without you,
Cold and lonely so bereft.

Wondering where you are today.
Wondering why you would not stay.
Wondering did you ever love me,
Cold and silent since you went away.

Do you ever think about me
Do you ever wish you had stayed
Do you know how much I miss you
Cold and desolate since you went away

If you knew that I forgive you
If you knew that I still cared
If you returned my arms would hold you
Warm and loving our hearts repaired.

Val Cook 2002


Free my Mind

Halt who goes there?
I am not alone
So you beware.
You have no right
To invade my mind.
Your a memory
Of the worst kind.
I thought I`d seen the last of you
I havent a clue
How you break through
Into my mind.
So go away don’t torture me
All I want is to be free.
Free from all thoughts of you
But It`s so hard what can I do.
To free myself of thoughts of you.

Val Cook 2006

These two poems go together,poetry can be a kind of therapy
especially in emotional times. Divorce after 40years of marriage can be difficult to purge.

Broken Heart

Where is the love that once was ours
How many years has it been?
Since you took the sun and left me showers
How much rain have I seen?
My broken heart will never heal
The fissure is deep and wide
With only a superficial seal.
That opens and bleeds inside
When all the hurt is again revealed
By the memories I thought where sealed.
The knife that cut was long and thin
Silent as it slid right in.
It gave me pain that I could not bear
So hot and searing was the tear.
That ripped my heart so deep and wide
And I cried as I have never cried.
I swore, stamped and got up steam
To howl and scream as in a dream.
I was angry, despondent, suicidal and mad
The love was gone the love I had.
Betrayed dejected depressed and alone
I felt my heart turn to stone.


My Hearts Triumphant Cry

This day I will remember
As the first day in my life,
When I rose and realised
That I was now, no ones wife.
The feeling, the elation
Was a great exciting buzz.
Truly liberating, there
Would be no more of Us. I
Can come and go at leisure.
Buy without consent, all the
Fripperies a female wants
With complete abandonment.
Will this make me happier,
I won’t know till I try. But
I will go from strength to strength
Is my hearts triumphant cry.

Val Cook 2001


It Was Then

Heartbreak
A time of
Fleeting moments.
That grip the heart
Assault the mind.
Loyalty and love
Cast aside
Life became unbearable
Has no meaning.
Despair and loneliness
Fill the day.
It was sad
It was bad
It was then.

Val Cook 2006

My Family

To Return to My Homepage http://www.valerieshomepage.blogspot.com/

Childhood Reminiscences
Lancashire England
1941 -1951

Before my childhood was done.

The days seemed longer,

Full of freedom and fun.

Lasses and lads playing together,

Mainly outside whatever the weather.

Roaming over the hills and far away.

Violence and fear no part of our day.

Trusting, truthful and trouble free,

Innocent, carefree, happy were we.

Doors left on the latch.

Or string through the letterbox

With door key attached.

Neighbour looked out for neighbour.

Always ready to do a favour.

Big hearts with open doors.

Sparse covering on bare floors.

Rag rugs by firesides

A welcome present for any new bride

Sideboard gleaming in the firelight,

Rubbed with mansion polish bright.

Gas light and cobbled street.

Living rooms small but neat.

On the wireless, Hancock Murdock and Horne.

The BBC where home entertainment was born.

Mothers in curlers and pinny,

Standing at the door singing out,

For their Winnie or Minnie.

To come home, tripe and onions for tea.

Bought fresh from the UCP. (United Cattle Produce)

Kettle simmering on the fireside grate.

Cups and saucers with doily on plate.

Home made bread, biscuits and pies,

Fresh from the oven a lovely surprise.

With beer collected in a jug,

For fathers supper mug.



Streets of tramlines for the horse drawn tram.

Manure for the gardens, where the horses ran.

Bells dinging, people clinging,

Tramlines singing, strap hangers swinging.

As they where transported around the town.

Going to work, or for a beer at the Rose & Crown.

Then the Trolley buses swished silently by.

Powered by overhead rail and electric supply.

Street parties and a family sing song,

In parlours where Aspidistra’s belong.

Tin baths and Tipplers down yards. (Lavatory)

Glowing coke fires and fire guards.

High stacked chimneys on Cotton mills.

Distinctive landmarks on northern hills.

Low lying weaving sheds alongside lodges.

Where illicit swimmers knew all the dodges.

Filled with fish, a fishermen’s delight.

Women in clothes black as night.

Lyle stockings, clogs and shawls.

Trawling around the market stalls.

Clog irons sparking on cobbles.

Where high heeled ladies hobble and wobble.

Local drapery shops selling goods.

Stiff collars, cuff links and studs.

Fleece lined liberty bodice vest,

Rubber buttons harnessed it round our chest.

Hand knitted woolly socks scarf and gloves.

Made by mum for those she loves.

Heavy tweed coats, Sunday best.

Easter time bonnets better dressed.

Knocker up and lamp lighter.

Demob suits fitting looser or tighter.

Silver Cross coach built pram.

Monday washing day for our mam.

Boiling babies bottles and teats.

Lines of washing filling back streets.

Hand wringing, boiling and possing.

Busy day no time for gossiping.

Dolly Blue brings out the white.

In lines of nappies what a sight.



Corner shop, ration cards and slate.

Paid off on Friday, unless wages were late.

Fresh baked white loaf, crusted black.

Wrapped in fragile tissue paper sack.

Bacon slicer cuts rashers thick or thin.

Spam or Corned Beef from a tin.

Doorstep milk delivered by the farmer.

On horse and cart in churns much warmer.

Doorsteps and flags dubbed white.

With Donkey Stones was socially right.

Or painted Cardinal Red instead.

Then pity anyone who dared to tread.

Rag and Bone man’s barrow patrols the streets.

Collecting old clothes in exchange for treats.

Goldfish in jam jars swinging by a string,

Or a paper windmill for anything you bring.

Concrete bunkers on seaside promenades.

Corrugated air-raid shelter in backyards.

Flags and buntings lining the street,

Trestle tables spread with lots to eat.

Street parties full of fun,

Maypole dancing in the sun.

May Queen processions down our street,

Field days an annual treat.

But nothing ever stays the same.

Except memories, that stay bright as any flame.

<©>Valerie CookFebruary 1999

My Home

My childhood home,
Was a two up two down terraced house in Tonge Moor.
Cobbled streets lined with copy cat houses;
Row upon row a regiment on parade,
Doors numbered 1 to 100.
We faced the railway arches.
Gateway to green fields and space to run
Free from restrictions of the street.
My Grandparents lived next door, Aunty Sissy two doors down,
Aunty Nelly and Aunty Annie, always in and out
My dad was the youngest of seven sisters
We had cousins galore.

Our house had running hot water, a full sized bath in the kitchen,
A flushing lavatory too, where most had tipplers and cold water taps.
We had a flagged floor until dad covered it with Asphalt,
A rich ruby red, polished to perfection by mother.
Front windows and vestibule leaded with fancy glaze
And a solid shiny brass door knocker at the front
Dad was a journeyman plumber,
Could turn his hand to anything.
It was fascinating to watch him work
Scraps of lead melted by blowtorch
Poured out in strips on the kitchen step
To set into solid shiny silver sticks of solder.

Many backyards contained concrete air raid shelters
By 1942, dark and smelly.
Our backyard had a timber and glass roof
It was dad`s workshop.
Neat and tidy with a swing for us kids
Hung from an overhead beam.
The sounds and smells that came out of my home where unique.

Monday was wash day, boiler bubbling, mother possing away.
And a huge wooden mangle, the clatter deafening
Until we got electric wringers with super silent rubber rollers .
Line after line of snow white sheets filled the back street
Blowing in the wind like an Armada in full sail .
Then Mother sleeves rolled, pink cheeks,
Elbow deep in Dolly Tub, scrubbing and rubbing.
Intent on collars and cuffs white and bright.
Sunlight soap, the smell often haunts me, as does
Mum baking bread, cakes and custards every Friday.

Most families including mine, had an allotment.
Digging for Britain in the 1940s .
Grandad loved it down there by the river
On his precious patch of rich brown earth.
He worked hard and we ate well.
Within ration book restrictions
Fruits, vegetables, chickens and lots of eggs.

I can visualise Mum and Dad sat by a blazing fire,
Listening to the radio,
Dick Barton`s signature tune fading into the distance.
Front door ajar, step donkey stoned to classic proportions.
Warm inviting smells coming from the kitchen.
I can hear our grandfather clock chiming,
The fire crackling.

The house is still there
Facing the railway arches.
But the fields have gone
Replaced by an Industrial Estate.
A sign of the times.

© Valerie Cook August 2007


Alice Elizabeth

My mother had the purest heart
She had a good heart and a willing soul
Life dealt her many blows
But her strength of character
Pulled her through.

She lost her mother at an early age
Was brought up by someone
Who had no mothering skill
A dried up prune of a woman.
Who treated her like a servant
And that was all she knew.

Married young
Gave birth to five children
A son and daughter
Lost to Meningitis
Aged six and seven.
She never spoke of them ever.
Her misery sunk deep into her soul.
It was as if they had never been.
She knew she had to get on
With life and never look back
At the suffering and sorrow of the past.

I had a charmed childhood
No suffering for me.
My two brothers and I
Probably took her for granted.
I know my father did.
She was a work horse.
As good a provider as he.

There wasn’t much display of affection
In our family
1940 post war years
Was about utility and survival.
Mother worked on the buses as a clippie.
And waited on tables in the UCP
Dad was in the Royal Navy, submariner
A proud mountain of a man.
A stranger coming home
Firm, resolute and totally in charge.

My grandfather Thomas was a Publican
Mum was brought up in the pub
She took over the license when he died.
It was long hours and hard work
But she never complained.
She so much at home behind the bar
Enjoyed her Guinness,
Had a good singing voice,
Was a superior darts player.
180`s Champion and loved the game.
Dad was jealous, he didn’t like her
Going out and having fun
So he stopped her playing .
She obeyed without a word, but her smile
Disappeared for a long time.

She was a wonderful Grandmother
Always there for me.
It was only when she had gone
Never to return
That I realised how special she was.
Meek, mild, gentle and willing
How do I think of mother
She was an angel.

V Cook 2007


My Mother

"Was I a good mother?" I ask of my three.
You see, it was what my mother asked of me.
I told her "yes" she was always gentle and kind.
That was the memory she would leave behind.

As a child she lost her mother
And was raised by another.
This woman was mean and didn`t love her.
So she assumed, because she didn`t have
The love of a mother.
She couldn`t provide a mother`s love for another.

So you see I have a problem,
Was I a good mother?
Being taught by my mother, brought up by another,
Who wasn`t her mother.
And didn`t love her

Well, we where put to the test
We both did our best.
And I know I was blessed
With a Good Mother

(c)Valerie Cook 2007

This poem was written for Ben my grandson who emigrated to Australia in March 96 aged 4 years old

My Friend Ben

With his little hand clutched tight in mine
I know this is a good sign
That everything will be just fine
We`re going to have a lovely time
Because he is my friend.

As he sits in comfort on my knee
He likes to share his news with me
He brings his treasures for me to see
And requests cheese on bread for tea
Because I am his friend

He asks for cuddles when he`s sad
He hides from me when he`s been bad
He doesn`t want to see me mad
But he knows that soon I will be glad
When once again we`re friends.

He likes me telling stories new
I must listen to his reading too
Hear his tables and what`s two time two
And know his favourite colours blue
Because he is my friend

He likes to hear the Back Street Boys
Their music appeals far more than toys
I can`t complain about the noise
Because I too like the Back Street Boys
That`s why we are such friends.

Even though he`s five years old
He`s a big bonny boy to behold
A strong character, beautiful and bold
And worth more then his weight in gold
And he will always be my friend

(c)Val Cook 1997

His Treasure Trove

His precious treasure trove is hidden in a box
In the bottom drawer, beneath his sweaters vests and socks.
It’s a collection of coloured stones and shells,
Bits of string and broken things no one ever sells.
On days when he feels unhappy or sad,
He takes his treasures out and recalls all the fun he had.
He cleans and polishes the stones until they brightly shine,
Admiring his collection and thinking it quite fine.
It doesn’t matter that the watch won`t go;
Or the fancy chain was broken long ago.
They are his treasures, his secret and his joy.
Collected through the years since he was a little boy.
Then carefully he replaces the treasures in the box,
Puts it in the bottom drawer under sweaters vest and socks.

(c)ValCook 1999

Holidays

Roman Holiday

My birthday treat was a holiday in Rome
I love history and was eager to roam
Through narrow streets soaking up the sights
The Pantheon Coliseum famed for gladiatorial fights.
We stayed at a quaint hotel, centre of the city
It had a walled garden, quiet and pretty.
All the streets crowded and noisy with cars,
On every corner cafes and bars.
We found a Trattoria where we could afford to eat
Dishes of pasta,chicken, cheese and spicy meat.
We attended an audience with his holiness The Pope.
Seated in an auditorium with hundreds of pilgrims filled with hope
That they would get up close as he moved amongst the crowd.
Some got so excited singing his praises out loud.
We toured the museum and climbed St Peter`s dome.
Saw the Sistine Chapel and many sights of Rome.

We had a guide book and we followed where it led.

The river Tiber was muddy, little flowed along its bed.
The Spanish Steps,Trevi Fountain and others scenes as grand
Are hidden in courtyards,where statues and fountains stand.
Horse drawn carriages take tourists to see the sights
Especially in the evening when the city`s ablaze with lights
We caught the train out to Pompii the ruins to view.
Saw bodies turned to stone and exotic drawings too.
The history,buildings,atmosphere of Rome
Will stay in my heart forever, was my thought as we flew home.

valcook 1991

Montana USA

Flathead Lake

Rodeo

We have been visiting our relatives in Butte,Billings and Havre Montana since 1978,that`s about a dozen or so trips I think. Such magnificent scenary and wonderful blue skies and the purest air.We just love it.We have entered the USA through many different States, and took the opportunity to tour most of the Western Coast,Mid-West America,British Columbia and Alberta Canada. We have visited many of the National Parks and was especially thrilled to see a Dinosaur being dug out of a river bed at the Dinosaur Museum in Utah State. We have been very interested in travelling the route that the waggon trains have taken over the Mountains and Plains towards Utah and California it was a truly remarkable journey.


Rocky Mountain Dream

Butte Montana is our second home.
A place on earth where we can roam
Through snowy peaked mountains,over grassy plains,
Where the spirit of adventure soon enters our viens.
Breathing in the mountains clear crisp air of creation,
We rediscover that the earth is but one great nation.
Looking up into the blue Montana skies
As rivers fill lakes,that mirror our eyes.
Lewis and Clarke intrepid explorers
Discovered this tough wild wilderness for us.
Flathead, Glacier Beaverhead and Gallitan.
Wonderful areas of adventure for man.
For fishing and hunting the stars are our guide.
The freedom we feel is released from inside.
There`s Moose and Elk shot with permission,
To see them complete with rack is truly a vision.
But beware of the bear and the Buffalo who roam,
Through forests and plains that are really their home.
But to ride the white water and swim in the lakes,
To take a boat ride through the Rocky Mountain`s gates,
Is a priviledge we must not ignore.
To obey the rules of that we are sure.
No litter or fires, and stay on the track,
If you want to make sure you will ever get back.
The people are warm they are loving and giving
Their hearts are as big as the land that they live in.
We travel the miles to recapture a dream
To sit on the deck and drink in the scene
Of the beautiful mountains and highlands of Butte

©ValCook1997

The Rodeo

On a warm Friday evening we took a ride.
To the Rodeo over on the south side.
It was crowded with people, horses and cars.
Concession stands,venders and noisy bars.
We took our seats over the chutes,
Amidst stetson hats and cowboy boots.
And watched as the horses and steers were prepared,
For the gallent Rodeo Cowboys who dared,
To ride a wild fearless mount.
Stay on at all costs,to the end of the count.
They bucked and kicked all over the ring,
To the hoots and hollers that the crowds sing.
Some are lucky, some are not.
All are brave giving all they`ve got.
Chasing calves and roping them tight.
Barrel racing,clown chasing,what an exciting night.

©ValCook1997

South of Kalispell Montana lies Flathead Lake the largest fresh water lake west of the Mississippi.It has a 85mile shore line that you can drive around. The Lake is fed by the Flathead River. To the north east is the Glacier National Park and views of the magnificant Mission and Swan Mountain Ranges.
We visited Flathead Lake in July 1999 as the guests of our friends Bob and Pauline we had a wonderful time. Here are some of my memories.

Flathead Lake

Flathead Lake is the largest freshwater lake in the west
Where islands private and secluded.
Have guards on watch to keep intruders out.
The west wind whistles around these small islands,
Creating endless waves that leap towards the shore.
At times the water flattens, and is calm,
Still as a mill pond until agitated once more.
Fiercely hitting the rocks in a spray of foam.
As ice cold streams rush down the Mountainside
To catch a wave and take a ride.

Wings outstretched, a Bald eagle returns to her nest
High in a tree on the waters edge.
She has fish in her beak for her fledgling
Who she feeds while balancing precariously on a branch.
The hungry chick almost knocks her over
As it greedily gobbles the offering,
Then instantly cries for more.
Above the lake Ospreys on the wing
Dip and dive in a spectacular display.
The lake mirrors the sky, deep and blue
Making it hard to tell the one from the other.
Until the Osprey catches a fish and gives us a clue.

Houses and cabins lie hidden deep in the forest
Where deer, bear and mountain lion freely roam.
Leafy lanes meander through the tall Ponderosa Pines
Leading to cultivated plots and people at home.
The Blackfeet Indian Tribe own most of the land
By a shake of their hand they alone give permission,
To build a cabin or a home
In springtime the Cherry Orchards on the eastside
Cover the slopes with pretty pink blossom
That attracts Honey Bees whose famous honey
Is sold far and wide
At the head of the lake is Big Fork, a neat quaint town
With galleries shops and restaurants.
An idyllic rendezvous
For those who live or remain all summer.
At Flathead Lake.

©ValCook1999

Visits around the Britain

My brother his wife and family live in Pershore,Worcestershire a delightful country town on the banks of the river Avon. We visit as often as we can and enjoy the "Midsummer Brass" weekend in July when the town hosts numerous Brass Bands.

1997 Pershore

Pershore`s the perfect place on a warm summers day.
I have come to hear the Brass band play.
The Abbey and green are so quiet and serene.
I`m all alone, not a soul to be seen.
Squirrels like quicksilver chase in and out of trees,
Then scurry up the trunk to hide amongst the leaves.
People on bicycles glide by as if floating on a breeze.
The sound of children`s laughter circles me with ease.
I sit very quiet and still absorbing the sounds around.
Birds calling blossom falling and the distant buzz of town.
Trees restless in the wind wildly dance entertaining me.
As I listen for the sounds of the music to be.
A dog races by barking madly at the sky
To disappear quickly,I look to see why.
All there is to this wonderful scene,
Is an ancient Abbey and a village green,
Peace returns and I sit in solitude enjoying the day,
Patiently waiting to hear the Brass Bands play.

© Val Cook 1997

The Lake District in Cumbria is a popular tourist attraction. Particularly for people who enjoy outdoor pursuits and walking.Lake Windermere is the main centre for water sports and boating.It`s about 70miles from our home.

The Lake District

Warm sunny days enjoying the scenary.
Long leafy lanes overhung with greenery.
Tall ferns nod as we drive by,
Searching for crystal clear blue sky.
Roofs covered with slate, grey green.
Whitewashed walls, in the sunshine gleam.
Lakes deep with a danger you`d drown.
Tiny row boats bobbing up and down,
Steam boats and Motor boats racing past fast.
Sailboats clanking their mainmasts.
Their movement in rapport,
With waves lapping on the shore.
Woolly sheep soon to be shorn,
Heads down intent grazing since dawn.
Lambs leaping, others sleeping,
Some huddle under trees peeping.
Gaunt granite crags call out for climbers,
Young ones learning from oldtimers.
Colourful helmets distinct on the rock face.
Walkers and cyclists compete for road space,
Motorists carefully taking the bends.
As country road weaves and wends.
In the town the people flock,
Until roads around the centre block.
Car parks fill,people in shops peer,
Looking for gifts and a Lakeland souvenir.
Or finding somewhere to eat,
In the noisy busy winding street.
At the end of the day the place is deserted,
The sightseers gone so the town has reverted.
To a quiet place by the shore.
Until daybreak brings the crowds once more

©Val Cook 1996

Dorothy`s Caravan

My friend Dorothy has a grand residential caravan.
I went there often,with Dorothy Winifred and Anne.
It`s on Anglesey, an island off the Northcoast of Wales.
Holyhead where the Car Ferry to Ireland sails.
There we relax,most of the time, knowing
That Winifred will keep the Gin & Tonics flowing.
Some days we would sit and watch the TV,
Until it was time to make the tea.
Other days we wandered around shops and market stalls,
Rummaged in Jumble Sales in village church halls.

Rode over Welsh mountains and through the lush green dales,

Driven in sunshine and terrible gales.

Dined at `The Farmhouse` a wonderful treat

But I couldn`t finish all they gave us to eat.

We`ve stayed in Betws y Coed,a lovely Welsh spot.
Llandudno where we shopped a lot.
Also been to Paris Rome Cyprus Majorca and Spain.
Enjoyed each others company again and again.
Happy days when we were just four.
Now there are three we don`t go anymore.
Our darling Anne passed away.
One cold miserable November day
We miss her companionship so much
Especially her laughter and loving touch
But we`re all getting older and can`t stand the pace
So quiet holidays all inclusive now is the case.
Dorothy and Winifred are forever going
On far flung holidays their tans ever glowing.
I shoot down to Australia to see family out there
They live so far it`s really not fair
But we have our memories of being together
All for one and one for all, forever and ever.
ValCook 1999

A Cruise Down the Nile

In January 1996 I took a Nile Cruise with a friend. I had been attending an Egyptology Course at our local museum with my mother,during the course we travelled down to the British Museum to see the Egyptology Archives a fascinating collection. I have always been interested in history especially Ancient civilizations.Unfortunatley we were unable to go with the museums trip to Egypt due to my mothers failing health,so this was a very special trip in memory of my mother.

My Egyptian Nile Cruise

A dream that I realised was a sail down the Nile.
On a luxury Cruise in the grand old style.
To visit Ancient Egypt’s historical past
The land of beautiful treasures and a mystical caste,
We boarded the boat at Luxor’s quayside,
The floating hotel was luxurious inside.
Our cabin was decorated in crimson and gold,
At first we thought it too gaudy and bold.
But a picture window and ample room for us
Soon made us quite satisfied with these comfortable quarters.
The food was excellent, the entertainment grand
We were made very welcome to this faraway land.

Next morning we sailed by ferry to the West Bank
Disembarked by filing along a dodgy narrow plank.
In the early morning the Valley of the Kings is lovely and cool
Entering the tombs in small groups, no camera was the rule.
Excited we clambered down numerous steps
To see a Sarcophagus in the tombs depths.
Wonderful marvellous what a sight to see.
I was overawed, amazed, thrilled to be me.
I had dreamed of this moment for many a year
To see Tutankamens tomb and now I was here.
The guide explained the history of the tomb
As we huddles together, there was very little room.
Deep in these tombs we saw fantastic sights
Wall paintings of Ancient Egyptian fights
Their colours still vibrant fresh and bright
Viewed by us in the faint torch light.

We visited The Colossi of Amenophis the Third.
The Valley of Queens of which so little is heard.
We toured all the sites that have historical links.
Then back to the boat for pre-dinner drinks.
The boat continued our journey during the night
The morning mists covering most other sights.
The guides took us by horse and carriage
To see the Temple at Edfu the Centre of Knowledge.
Then back to the boat to cruise the Nile
Lying on the Sun Deck in elegant style.

Next day we boarded Felluca`s and under full sail
Sped along fast, leaving a water trail.
After a steep climb respect was paid
To the Aga Khan in the marble tomb where he laid.
Then sailed down river to the Gardens Lord Kitchener planned,
An island of rare botanical plants growing in the sand.
From here we drove by coach to the Aswan Dam which has power
To light up the whole of Egypt hour by the hour.

Then on to The Temple of Philea moved stone by stone
As protection from rising waters, much damage already shown.
A three a.m.trip to Abu Simbel across cold desert sand
To witness a magical sunrise over this barren land.
Rameses Temple magnificent bathed in sunshine
Built on the shores of Lake Nassau far from the waterline.
Moved to escape the waters flooding the valley.
Rescued for posterity, rebuilt with a visitors galley
Behind the temples facade inside the rock face.
From the front of the temple there isn`t a trace.
Detailed explanations on how they accomplished the removel
We gasp in amazement, it had our approval.
To continue our journey it's back to the boat.
The day has been wonderful this trip has my vote.

On to the Temple of Kom Ombo,Sobeck the cult crocodile
Ancient surgical instruments make me smile.
At Karnak we attend an evening of Sound and Light.
Presenting a wonderful spectical in the dark of the night.
The following day the Temple at Karnak we explore.
Then followed the Avenue of Sphinxes to the Temple at Luxor.
Our cruise was over we'd had a great time.
The trip was a dream come true, absolutely sublime.
<©>Val Cook 1996

The Valley of The Kings

Tombs hidden in the hills retrieved from the rubble.
Wall paintings and artefacts saved through time with trouble.
Exposed after centuries of seclusion in the desert heat
By intrepid archaeologists and explorers, a fantastic feat.
Ancient sarcophagi in black basalt or granite greens
Containing mummies of Kings and Queens.
Gold artefacts embedded with precious stones stand
Around the walls waiting for tomorrow land.
Papyrus rolls containing magic incantations;
Preserved intact for those whose dedications,
Will resurrect and lead them to the underworld.
Ushabtui figures wait, until this world unfurled.
Lying in tombs surrounded with their treasures.
All this to ensure their lasting existence, in no uncertain measures.
Canopic jars containing organs,heart and liver,
Awaiting the judgement of the Life Giver.
Osiris, God King of the Underworld and Judge of the Dead
Anubis, his son weighs the heart before the King can be led
With his court and lifestyle resurrected.
As Amen Ra the God King he has been selected.
<©>ValCook 1996

Australia

Queensland

My daughter, son in law and two grandchildren emigrated to Australia in 1996. In the first two year I visited them four times and spent 14months with them. It was hard to let go. These first few poem reflect my feelings in those early months. Then we settled into a pattern of a few months each year to escape the winter in the UK and spend time with the granchildren during their summer break.Then as the children grew older we visited less often. They finally settled in Perth Western Australia.

Emigration

They wanted to emigrate to Australia
We waited.
Their visa was granted.
It understood it was what they wanted.
They sold everything then emigrated.
Sad we waited.
The letters and telephone calls exchanged.
We all felt the same.
They wanted what we wanted
To be together .
So we flew to Australia
To be united.
For a while and then we parted.


<©>Val Cook1996

Australian Escapade

To see our family we flew to Adelaide.
Stayed for a while, then plans were made,
To visit our friends in Sydney and then
Come back for two more weeks with the family again.
We flew to Sydney in matter of hours,
Landing amidst a city of towers.
Our friends made us welcome in every way
So we enjoyed every moment of our stay.

Their house was high on Bilgola Platuae.
A maze of steep winding streets below.
With elevated views across Pittwater Sound
Where all types of boats can be found.
Some lying on their side
Patiently waiting, tilted at low tide.
Then the picture changes as the tide turned
And life on the water once more returned.

Yacht in full sail ocean bound
Gliding through the water without a sound.
Itty bitty row boats bobbing up and down
Ready to ferry people into town.
Freshly painted sail boats bobbing in the breeze
Mainmast slapping as if to please
The waves lapping the shore
As if calling out for more.

We caught a bus to Manley Beach
Hopped on a Ferry the city to reach.
From Circular Quay we boarded a Catamaran
And up the Parramatta River we ran.
Cruised up the river then down we came
Sailing under the Harbour Bridge again.
As people passed over by car and rail.
The Opera House looked like a ship in full sail.
Majestically set against the sparkling sea
This unique building is a wonder to me.

We got off the boat at Circular Quay.
Walked on to George Street for a shopping spree.
Tea by the Harbour Rocks, restored as new
Saw the Sydney Tower a room with a view.
Kings Cross, China Town all interesting locations
A must for tourists on summer vacations.
Tall ships, small ships, sailing through
Between Blue Mountains and Woolloomooloo.

We said goodbye to our wonderful friends
With much sadness, as our visit ends.
Hiring a car to see Camberra fair
Edan and Geelong, we had to go there.
Apollo Bay and The Great Ocean Road.
The Twelve Apostles shaped by rough sea code.
We stayed in Mount Gambia and viewed the crater
Then on to the Murray River. Many hours later
We drove down the Freeway into Adelaide
Welcomed back from our escapade.

<©>Val Cook 1997

Whale Watching

In 1998 we took a boat trip out into the bay to Whale Watch. It was November and they where on their way back to the Antarctic with their little ones.

Off the coast of Western Australia once year.
The gentle giants of the deep flip their tails and rear,
In rest and recreation
During their seasonal migration.
In winter they came
To seek rich feeding is their aim.
In tropical waters they feed and breed,
Krill and small fish providing all they need.

Then return south in warmer days
To rest and play in familiar bays;
Shepherding newborn cubs en route
Anything but mute and resolute.
Singing the same song for days.
Entertaining and fascinating are the whale’s ways.
With a tall tail slap and a brave belly breech
They play and swim until the Antarctic they reach.

A steady stream of Humpback and Sperm Whales.
Blowing with force skyward vapour trails.
Breathing deeply and diving out of view,
To join their pod in the deep deep blue.

<©>Val Cook 1998

Other friends also emigrated to Cairns the same year as our daughter. So we flew up to Cairns to spend some time with them one year. Their bunglow is by the beach in a tropical setting.They have a wonderful colourful garden surrounding a deep blue pool. It was so hot we spent a great deal of time cooling off in the pool that was shaded by a huge sail that helped keep the water cool and fresh.

A Garden in Cairns

As the breeze hurried through the garden
The trees appear to wake and protest.
Shaking and rustling as if angry at being disturbed,
Until the wind dies down and they settle to rest.
Others nod benignly accepting their fate,
Until another playful gust wakes them from their doze.
Then off they go complaining strongly,
Dancing along to the tune of the wind.

Tall triangular Fan Palms whisper as they sway.

Bananas, Coconuts, Grapefruits and Mangos,

Grow in abundance in this tropical climate.

In the evening Cane Toads, huge and horny
Cover the carpet of plush green grass,
Refusing to move no matter what.
At Sunset citrus flares clear the insects.
Amidst low lying, tornado tough, bungalows.
Hidden in deep green headland.
In Far North Queensland


Queensland Adventure

We took fast boat rides, to Green Island, Fitzroy and further.
Bouncing over wonderful seas of turquoise and green.
Fantasy trips to a paradise of soft silver sand and warm caressing breeze
We swam in the clear crystal ocean
Amongst vast shoals of tiny shiny fish.
Occasionally bumped by broad winged Rays,
Gently gliding between our legs, it was quite an experience.

We boarded a glass bottom boat,
And sailed further onto the coral reef.
The guide scattered bait onto the water
Immediately we were surrounded by the most fantastic fish.
A turtle swam under the boat,
But he was to busy inspecting the reef to notice us.

Cairns beaches have Shark Nets, floating far out in the sea.
Closer to shore are the Stinger Net protecting swimmers.
From Jellyfish .
On all the beaches are pots of vinegar
To dull the pain.
Beaches are often closed for safety,
When an occasional marauding crocodile;
Leaves the security of it’s rainforest home
To patrol the beaches in search of some delicacy,
Most times it’s a local pet.

We drove high into the headlands to visit Kuranda,
A small town deep in the rainforest.
Drowning in huge maidenhead ferns.
Exotic brightly coloured blossoms and dense undergrowth.
A spiralling road leads into a tropical paradise
Where the air is full of screeching parrots and under the boardwalk
Lizards scurry around and snakes slip and slid .

Karunda on market day attracts Artisans,
Who display and sell their fine silver ornaments, jewellery,
Paintings, pottery and clothes and carpentry craft.
Deep in the Rainforest of Far North Queensland
A Magical Kingdom.

<©>ValCook1997