Sunday, April 03, 2005

Wannabe


I wrote this poem years ago when feeling somewhat stuck in the role of housewife and mother. I was actually quite lithe and gorgeous at the time albeit a bit sicked up on by babies. If you could see past the marmite smears on my top and the comfortable slippers I was really quite a catch and as a consequence spent alot of time daydreaming about what life could be like if I was allowed to act up.
All historical accounts of bohemian artists have their lives painted as full of intrigue with complex living arrangements that could include anything from an obliging servant to a goat. They smoked, drank and philandered their way through life then died probably too young, leaving behind great creative works we now worship and adore. Possibly though, their nearest and dearest were pleased to see them croak and make millions out of the art they left behind- payback time. For myself, I think I may leave this world one day with clear(ish) conscience and nice pile of ironing.
It won't fund anything for my family unless they can manage to sell it to the Tate Modern labelled 'Retentively Made Bed'. Good luck to them- it'll be my payback for years wasted in the kitchen...


Wannabe

I wannabe a babe,
With skinny little hips,
I wanna dance 'till dawn,
And feed my face on chips.

I wanna have a fag,
Lots of nicotine,
Filling up my lungs,
And all the spaces in between.

I wannabe so rich,
With stacks of Gucci shoes,
An Audi and a Volvo,
And half a dozen loos.

I wanna go abroad,
And find the real me,
Sipping icy ouzo,
On an Adriatic Sea.

I wanna have ten lovers,
Hot enough to burn,
Johnny Depp-ish look alikes,
All waiting for their turn.

I wanna- what's that love?
I'm ironing can't you see?
And making plans for dinner,
Just you, the kids, and me.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Leading Questions


I wote this after doing a course where leadership was the big question of the day and Ghandi was mentioned more than once as where we should be headed on our life's journey. It got me thinking about all the great people in the world and if they ever had to do the ironing. I suppose if you wear a loin cloth and sit on a mountain top, no. But then who would do the grocery shopping?


The venerated Ghandi
Was a dedicated man,
Who hunger struck for freedom
And we celebrate his stand.

But I am given to wonder
About the course of British rule,
That, if instead of leading India,
He had to take the kids to school.

Now I am sure my purpose
In this brief and mortal life
Is higher than my current role
Of mother and housewife.

I’d gladly fight for causes
And meditate for hours,
If I didn’t have to supervise
Kids homework, or their showers.

I could even see me marching,
Inspiring masses everywhere
If someone else cooked dinner
And paid out for childcare.

It seems that having babies,
An immortal leader does not make,
Joan of Arc was kid free
Before they burned her at the stake.

And before you say ‘There was one!
Who had a child’, I know,
But Immaculate Conception?
I blew that one years ago!

Sunday, March 20, 2005


This is my fabuloso tea towel dress! Very Stepford Wife with a Kiwi twist.
I created this to wear to the Trash To Fashion Show in Waitakere last December to recieve a prize for my entry: 'Nigel- Domestic Godesque'. His cape was lined with tea towels which, incidentally, I designed some years ago for a souvenir company. We all have our bread and butter work and whilst not award winning native birds and flowers at the time, they did get to reign supreme in another form at a later stage. I made this dress from a reissued 1950's vogue pattern from seconds tea towels and a bit of blue cotton at $3.00 a metre. Total cost- about the price of two lattes. Not bad aye?

Something to rhyme with 'Blog'...

Before I get into the rhyme I shall explain the tea towel dress. I created this to wear to the Trash To Fashion Show in Waitakere last December to recieve a prize for my entry: 'Nigel- Domestic Godesque'. His cape was lined with tea towels which, incidentally, I designed some years ago for a souvenir company. We all have our bread and butter work and whilst not award winning native birds and flowers at the time, they did get to reign supreme in another form at a later stage. I made this dress from a reissued 1950's vogue pattern from seconds tea towels and a bit of blue cotton at $3.00 a metre. Total cost- about the price of two lattes. Not bad aye?