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Zoe Younger

~ Life Changing Journeys, Life changing Love

Zoe Younger

Category Archives: POETRY

Well, Hello there!

08 Monday Feb 2016

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, MY BOOKS, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE, TORN, Uncategorized

≈ 5 Comments

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"For the Term of His Natural Life", "North and South", Blogging101, Colin Friels, Daniela Denby-Ashe, Dick Francis, Elizabeth Gaskill, Enid Blyton, Georgette Heyer, Jane Austen, John Grisham, Marcus Clarke, Michael Conley, Richard Armitage, Richard North Patterson, The Classic Drama DVD Collection

2013-06-15_655Yes, I know. I’ve been very quiet lately. I ran out of poetry suitable for posting, the 100 word stories have gone missing in action and I’ve had some changes happen in my life which have run away with my time. I’ve been struggling to blog and felt the need to learn more about what I can do. So, today I’ve started Blogging 101 with WordPress. Hopefully you will notice a change in the quality of posts. All feedback gratefully received.

Assignment 1 is to tell you a bit about me and why I want to blog. Some of you will know this already so please bear with me because here we go again. I hope it’s not too boring for you.

Ever since I was a very little girl, I have loved words. Big words, little words, poetry, prose, a bit of everything. In fact, one of my earliest memories is from when I was first going to school somewhere between Grades 1 and 3. We lived 9 miles outside of Proserpine in central Queensland, Australia. For one of the very few times we ever received pocket money I spent my entire shilling (yes, this was pre decimal currency – about 10 cents), a fortune to me as a young kid, on a “Little Golden Book”, called “Out of My Window”. I took it back to school and almost the first thing that happened was one of my schoolmates dropped there chocolate icecream/popsicle onto it. I was devastated.

There were years when poetry flooded out of me. Teen angst city! There were years when I wrote a poem every time I went to the wedding of a friend. It became quite a tradition. None of those are posted here because they were personal to those friends. If you disagree and would like to read some, let me know and I’ll see what I can do. Then the poetry dried up but never did my love of words, of reading and writing. Life got in the way as it does.

My jobs have continued adding to my vocabulary. I loved temping, that is, working for an agency, short term assignments as a legal secretary, clerk, taking dictation and later transcribing from analogue and now digital dictation and worked in some very interesting jobs. The photo above is one taken when I was working on my very first computer at work (as opposed to one at college).

One temp assignment led to 9 years working for a veterinary pathology laboratory and learned soooo much about the insides and outsides of all kinds of animals. I typed reports on butterfly pupae, beached whales and about everything in between. I loved it and looking back, I wish I had stayed there. But, life goes on. We live and learn.

As a matter of fact, while I work on getting some editing and copywriting jobs, I’m returning to temping after being made redundant in my last position. That is, I’ll be working for an agency on short term assignments. Over the years I’ve worked as a legal secretary, administration officer and clerk, taking dictation and later transcribing from analogue and now digital dictation files. I worked in some very interesting jobs. Years passed and I ended up deciding that if I was ever going to be a writer I had to just do it. So I started writing.

As a compulsive reader I loved reading authors like Dick Francis, Michael Conley, Richard North Patterson, John Grisham so started with a who-dunnit. Much as I loved reading them, I found out that I didn’t want to live in that world all the time it takes to write them. I tended toward depression at the time so I changed my direction.

My other favourite books were those of authors such as Jane Austen, Enid Blyton, Elizabeth Gaskill and Georgette Heyer so I started writing books with happy-ever-afters. When I entered my contemporary story in a competition, one of the judges commented that I had an “old-fashioned voice”. Lights went off. Duh. Of course. I loved historical stories.

Watching Colin Friels in “For the Term of His Natural Life” was not a hardship. I saw it just before I went on holiday to Tasmania to see the places mentioned by Marcus Clarke in his classic book of that name. However, I didn’t want to write convict stories. I hated Port Arthur and Macquarie Harbour. I hated what happened to the convicts, what people do to people.

My subscription to “The Classic Drama DVD Collection” of BBC period dramas was one of my all time best buys. I still watch them over and over any chance I get. After watching all the Jane Austen series’ I came across Richard Armitage and  Daniela Denby-Ashe in the adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskill’s “North and South”. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve watched it and happily bring it out for anyone who wants to watch it again or for the first time. The plight of the Irish wasn’t a highlight of the series but I was fascinated by what I saw and what I learned afterward. My research led me to write “Torn”.

So I’ve decided “Torn” is to be the first of a series about people who came to Australia voluntarily. There will be some convicts but they won’t be about convicts and their hardships. Australia is such a multicultural melting pot. My own ancestors were English, Scots, Irish and Finnish. “New Horizons” will explore some of those and hopefully many others.

“Torn” follows Mary and Liam at the time of the Great Famine as they set sail from the “Harbour of Tears”, Cork in Ireland with her friend and his horses to Moreton Bay which is at the end of our street. Yes, I did a lot of research and it took me a long time but it’s currently with an editor awaiting a decision.

Entering writing competitions has led to two short stories being published in the RWA’s “Little Gems” anthology and I collected 63 poems from 28 members of the “North Pine Bush Poets” in an anthology as a fundraiser when the club hosted the Australian Bush Poetry Championships. They were popular and the fundraising continues despite the boxful I still have in my office. My own three contributions are here among the poetry on my blog.

Like so many other writers I’d love to live by my pen. Whether that means working as a temp again or editing and copywriting until I can live by my books, well c’est la vie.

I hope you’ll find something you like in my blogs and will be excited with me when I finally see my own book(s) in print.

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From the archives

24 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, LOVE, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE

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Tags

imponderables, LIFE, loss, LOVE, Memory, Relationships

san Valentino sul portatileTrue love

True love what are you? Where are you?
You haunt each day, each think I do
But you’re elusive, out of reach
Beyond a wall I cannot breach
Just when I think that I’ll give up
You slip a sip from your sweet cup
You keep me running, drive me mad
For you’re the love I never had
I catch a glimpse and then you’re gone
But it’s enough to drive me on
You drive me mad what can I do?
I’ve no defences left ‘gainst you.

© Zoe Younger

Another from the depths of the archives

 

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If all the sea ran dry…

10 Tuesday Nov 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, LOVE, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

imponderables, LIFE, loss, LOVE, Love and Friendship, regret, Relationships

Wooded bridge in the port between sunrise.

If all the sea ran dry

Would I still love to go

out to sit upon the beach

near rocks that I love so?

do you believe I

ever would

regret?

(C) Zoe Younger

 

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Communicate

01 Sunday Nov 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, LOVE, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE

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loss, LOVE, Memory, Relationships, writing

Retirement crisis concept as a couple of adirondack chairs sinking in the ocean during a thunder storm as a metaphor for financial investment problems for retiring seniors who lost their savings or broken dreams symbol.

The complexities of life are, sometimes, more than I can stand
And I wish that I could work them out just sitting in the sand
The waves relentless on the beach a mellow soothing tone
And noone there to hear my little low frustrated moan
Relationships with people are the hardest things of all
The more you care the easier, I find, it is to fall
To hurt and wound, dishearten and not even know I guess
Until one day you find out that this person’s in a mess
You’ll say, “I never knew, you know. I wish that you would say
Communicate just how you feel – we’d never get this way”
But so often now I know that I do just the same myself
My feelings stay inside me, hidden way back on a shelf
Is there nothing we can do but make a resolution now
A kind of private self communication vow
Make known your hurts and happiness, I’ll listen while you speak
And when you touch on faults of mine I promise I’ll be meek
Our honesty will pay off. There’s just no way it won’t
The close relationship we have will break up if we don’t
So take me in your arms and tell me of the way you feel
In words right from your heart so that I’ll know it’s real
Then our mutual understanding it will warm us every way
And I know our love will grow with each and every passing day.

© Zoe Younger 1980s

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Another from the archive

25 Sunday Oct 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, LOVE, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

broken heart, juvenile poetry, Laugh, live, loss, LOVE

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Laugh and Love and Live

Time is something, so they say that heals almost all things
The heart that feels so crushed and bruised they tell me even sings
And, given time, I’ll find the peace I thought would never come
They say I’ll wonder how I found the time to be so glum
I’ll take a moment to reflect on hours then long ago
When my heart felt oh so heavy and the time passed by so slow
Those things that seemed important will be so far in the past
So then I’ll say that time is winged and flies so very fast
But I thank you for the richness that to my life you did give
And realise that now’s the time to laugh and love and live
To bid old hopes and dreams a very wistful last ‘adieu’
And learn to live my life as if each day it starts anew
I know that I should do it and I sometimes wish I could
But then I wish that my poor heart were made of solid wood
So I couldn’t feel tonight that old and now familiar pain
For my eternal thoughts of you become a bittersweet refrain.

© Zoe Younger

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Teenage Angst

18 Sunday Oct 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, LOVE, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE

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Tags

lost love, rainy day, Teen angst

sad enamored girl draws a heart on the window in the rain

It’s Over

Soft rain on the window pain

A swift dart in a lonely heart

A powerful drug in a one litre mug

It went to my head, now that feeling is dead

Now all I have left is a heart that’s bereft

Vain obstinate hope with which I can’t cope

Bitter sweet refrain which will always remain.

© Zoe Younger

Found this among some old books. Obviously, I felt bad at the time but, now, too many years later? I have no idea what this was about!

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This one’s for Mary.

16 Thursday Jul 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in FRIENDSHIP, LIFE, LOVE, POETRY

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

friends, only ones left, Tea

Tea
FRIENDSHIP

Anon

Two old ladies, we sit down to tea
I’m eighty-four and she’s eighty-three
I hate her and she hates me
But we’re the only ones left you see.

We meet every Wednesday at half-past three,
I go to her, then she comes to me.
I bore her and she bores me
But we’re the only ones left you see.

She talks of Henry and I of Fred
And all the things they did and said,
We both tell lies and never agree,
But we’re the only ones left you see.

She boasts of the party at Number Three
When Fred kissed her instead of me.
I wear his ring, so it’s plain to see
Why I hate her and she hates me.

Never trust your best friend, they say,
And I don’t trust her to, not to this day,
But the rest are gone – so we’ll pour some tea
For we’re the only ones left you see…

I’ve not found out who this particular “Anon” is. If you know, please tell me. One of our elderly “North Pine Bush Poets” performs this so well, I always hear Mary’s voice when I read it.

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Four Little Tigers

15 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, POETRY, THE WRITERS' LIFE

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Tags

tigers; trophy; revenge

Four tigers resting at the bottom of a cliff

Four Little Tigers

By Frank Jacobs

Four little tigers
Sitting in a tree;
One became a lady’s coat-
Now there’s only three.

Three little tigers
‘neath a sky of blue;
One became a rich man’s rug-
Now there’s only two.

Two little tigers
Sleeping in the sun
One a hunter’s trophy made-
Now there’s only one.

One little tiger
Waiting to be had;
Oops! He got the hunter first-
Aren’t you kind of glad?

I found this poem in a book years ago and have always wondered who wrote it. Now I know.

 

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Another of my favourite poems

06 Monday Jul 2015

Posted by Zoetic Words in LIFE, LOVE, POETRY

≈ 1 Comment

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Ada Cambridge

Little red riding hood on a shore of a misty lake . Sadness and surreal concept

The Old Maid’s Story
by Ada Cambridge 1844-1927

Ay, many and many a year’s gone by,
Since the dawn of that day in spring,
When we met in the pine-woods, Harry and I,
And he gave me this golden ring.

I had lovers in plenty, of high degree,
Who wooed in my father’s hall;
But none were so noble and brave as he,
Though he was the scorn’d of all.

On the soft, green grass, where the shadows lay,
All fleck’d with the sun and dew,
With a ring and a kiss did we seal, that day,
Our vow to be leal and true.

‘Twas a life-long vow;—but they did not know—
And they thought not of love or pain;—
We met just once in the sleet and snow—
We were never to meet again!

He was sent away o’er the blank, wide sea,
And I, with my hopes and fears,
Had never a message to comfort me
For over a score of years.

They laugh’d at my heart, they paraded my hand,
But I answer’d them, cold and grim—
“If Harry ne’er comes to his native land,
They shall only belong to him.”

At last came a tale from the battle-field;—
And they were not scornful now.
The sentence of exile might be repealed—
They would honour our plighted vow!

They told how my Harry, like olden knights,
Had fought for his land and Queen;
Fought hard and well on the Alma heights,
Where the deadliest strife was seen.

They told how he fell in the fire and smoke,
And they gave me his things to keep;
They wonder’d why I never cried or spoke,—
But it was too late to weep.

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Rumination

04 Saturday Jul 2015

Posted by Elsa Holland in LIFE, POETRY

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Tags

Australian bush, healing, imponderables, poetry, survival

IM000578

Which deeds would I change if I lived my life over?
Yes, a few – not a lot, I say thinking it over
For mistakes that I’ve made have caused changes in me
Which have made me today who I happen to be
Some things on the farm should have never been true
And some dire results haunt me all my life through
Yet the peace of the bush where we lived way back then
Taught me love for the country like those men of the pen
The dust, rock and gum trees, the freedom I feel
With the wind in my face have a quiet appeal
Hearing only the calls of a bird on the wing
When I’m there on my own I can hear my heart sing
Yes things happened to us that cause strong men to kneel
Yet my love of the bush I’m sure helped me to heal
Not just when the pain was too much to go through
And an innocent child found ‘numb’ easy to do
My mem’ries are scanty of the bad things back then
But bush wonders discovered I can relive again
Any time my heart aches I can be in that place
Under blue sky and red gum, gentle breeze on my face.

© Zoe Younger April 2008

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