Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Tag Archives: 🦋 Poetry Mix
A Collection of Poems
A Man Named Rob
A Man Called Rob
There once was a man called Rob,
who lived in the town of Dungog.
With daily doses of moonshine,
he couldn’t walk a straight line.
Sadly, he drowned in his grog.
Chrissy Siggee 2020
Note: Dungog is a town in New South Wales, Australia.
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Rhythm of the Dawn
Rhythm of the rain gently declares its message,
Its gentleness soothes my soul;
Silent birds make known the impending cooler day—
I snuggle deep beneath the covers.
© Chrissy Siggee
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
From my book: Glimpses of His Glory
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Me and My Writing….
I don’t care what people say
It’s time to look the other way.
If I want to write – I will
with or without a copyright.
Poems, fiction and mysteries,
for children and adults.
Whatever takes my fancy – oh yeah…
It’s what I like to do.
My grammar may not be perfect
and rhyme is not my forte
But whatever I write –
I write with all my heart.
Grandchildren love my nonsense,
Friends enjoy a jingle.
I only write for them and those
Who enjoy my writing most.
© Chrissy Siggee – 2018
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Pink by Nature
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Winter
Trees bare
Frosty breath—
No warmth
Lifeless—
A bowl of soup
Crusty bread—
Glowing fireplace
Lazy days—
© Chrissy Siggee 2018
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Roof Top Dancing
tap, tap, tap…
thud, thud,
bump bump.
repeat
There is someone on my roof…
It sounds like they are dancing.
tap, tap, tap…
thud, thud,
bump bump.
repeat
I wonder if this roof is dance-proof…
It wouldn’t be for elephants prancing.
tap, tap, tap…
thud, thud,
bump bump.
repeat
Who is dancing on my roof?
Toward the eaves they’re now advancing.
tap, tap, tap…
thud, thud,
bump bump.
repeat
I sneaked a peek to find the proof…
To do this, it took some chancing.
tap, tap, tap…
thud, thud,
bump bump.
repeat
There is someone dancing on my roof!
— It’s three galahs belly-dancing.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Galah
© Chrissy Siggee
Archived in
🦋 Poetry Mix and 🦋 Children’s Corner
Kangaroos
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
There’s Nought to Fear
Some things don’t feel right.
Unpleasant confrontations generate a mood of sadness.
Shivers torment already traumatised nerves,
like finger nails dragged across a blackboard.
Yet, there’s nought to fear.
Some things are not right.
Hostility clutches hold with naive dishonesties
and confusion creeps in with unsuspected lies.
Cold fingers of fear grip with malicious rumours.
Yet, there’s nought to fear.
Some things are never right.
Malice and corruption run amok in a violated world
with greed and self-absorption taking hold.
Unpredicted anguish and hearts full of darkness.
Yet, there’s nought to fear.
Some things can be made right.
Terrors of the night flee with the promise of the sunrise.
Integrity re-established to transform thoughts
to benefit the practise of honest, uncorrupted lives.
Yes, there’s nought to fear.
© Chrissy Siggee -2019
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Swans
Archived in: 
Poetry Mix
Whispers in the Breeze
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Riverside Peace (the poem)
There’s something about a river
that draws me to its side
Effortlessly advancing
toward a lake or sea.
With abundance of freshness
it’s filled with life and health
Uninterrupted flowing
beyond the distant fields.
From gentle humble beginnings
– a fact of life itself
Amazingly appealing
amid a lonely past.
Whispers of the river embrace
the peace renews my mind
Majestically embracing
yonder pathways I see.
© Chrissy Siggee
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Fire in the Sky
The heavens are ablaze with orange embers
Splinters of steel-grey clouds pierce the radiance
Wisps of haze emerge like smoky smudges
Summer’s twilight heat affects the changing light
Fiery reflections shimmer against the fading hues
Like a fire in the sky, the sun melts into the horizon.
© Chrissy Siggee
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
A Man called Rob
There once was a man called Rob,
who lived in the town of Dungog.
With daily doses of moonshine,
he couldn’t walk a straight line.
Sadly, he drowned in his grog.
Chrissy Siggee 2020
(Note: Dungog is a rural town near Maitland north of Sydney)
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
A Flea called Heather
There once was a flea called Heather,
who really felt under the weather.
She went to see her pharmacist,
– known to most as a romanticist
and now they are living together.
Chrissy Siggee
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
Paddle Boats
Archived in 🦋 Poetry Mix
A Man called Matt
There once was a man called Matt,
who wore an astonishing hat.
He found himself lost on vacation,
in an Australian outback location
and fell into a hole of a kangaroo-rat.
Chrissy Siggee 2020
Archived in: 🦋 Poetry Mix
The Smell of Death Lingers
The Smell of Death Lingers The smell of death lingers – It lingers in the bedroom and in the dining room. But, in the garden it grasps the essence of life— Even the weeds share their aroma. The smell of death lingers— Odours cannot be shaken it's everywhere I go. But, in the garden it grasps the essence of life— Even the weeds share their aroma. The smell of death lingers— It lingers on my clothing every breath smothers me. But, in the garden it grasps the essence of life— Even the weeds share their aroma. The smell of death lingers— Until life yields into death to finds its final path. And, in the garden it grasps the essence of life— Even the weeds share their aroma. Chrissy Siggee July 2021
Archived in: Poetry Mix
A Prince Called Dylan
There once was a prince called Dylan,
who was known as a bit of a villain.
He would never wash his hands
after a feeding on smelly clams,
so his doctor ordered him to take penicillin.
Chrissy Siggee
Archived in: Poetry Mix
Stand Tall
Archived in: Poetry Mix
Riverside Peace 
You must be logged in to post a comment.