Last week I wrote about Ronny Wunders, a recurring character in my poetry. I also made mention of Shirley Birley and fellow poet,  Patricia Franz,  expressed an interest in knowing more about her.  An introduction seems more than appropriate, I feel.  So I searched the poetry vault and discovered Shirley conveneiently located in a collection of poems about quirky characters... I consciously created this poem with short lines to add pace to the reading and to portray the busy nature of Shirley's life.  Shirley Birley   Shirley Birley Hair quite curly Starts her morning Bright and early. Shirley Birley Never surly Enters the city’s hurly burly. She rides her bicycle Rings her bell Passers by Wish her well. Into the city Shirley ventures Passing folk Asleep on benches. To the factory Shirley’s winging Arrives for work Cheerfully singing. Shirley dons her uniform And every day She does perform. Makes her workmates Cup...

 I am here to share a narrative poem and taking the opportunity to celebrate the frequently heard idiom- ' I'd like to be a fly on the wall.' I had a chuckle to myself while writing this one... I must come clean here and reveal that Ronny Wunders, a character central to this poem is based on two of my childhood friends. He is a composite of two people and has featured in several of my previous poems. He is what is referred to as a recurring character.  He does some heavy lifting for others who remain anonymous. There is in fact a real Ronnie Wunders out there somewhere, as well. Allow me to explain...  Some years ago while walking through a large department store, an announcement rang out for someone called, Ronnie Wunders. I thought, what a great name- and the rest is history. I adopted Ronnie Wunders, in name only! Ronnie's been having adventures in my poems ever since, along with Cliff Edges, Shirley Birley and others.  Ah the machinations of a poet's messy mind!...

As a child I never ate Kellogs Rice Bubbles as a breakfast cereal, but I do recall the catch cry -Snap, Crackle, Pop! Sometimes writing ideas come to us in snap, crackle, pop fashion. They arrive with such velocity we are left slightly unsettled.  Sometimes writing ideas attach themselves like iron filings to a magnet and we just have to respond. As I was driving past Fisherman's Beach (at the end of my street) on a grey spring morning earlier this week, I spied out on the bay, a single, blue hulled boat, slicing its way towards the boat ramp. The surface of the water was as smooth as freshly ironed sheets, so the boat's wake cut a clear line through the water's dark surface -providing a brief, yet memorable sighting.  In that fleeting scene I held the map I needed for my writing idea.  Snap, crackle, pop!  As I sat enjoying a coffee at a local cafe a few minutes later, that earlier scene refused to leave me. I willingly surrendered to it and scribbled the first draf...