Monthly Archives: January 2015

A little late for Australia Day but here’s my poem all about a special cat.



I’m a black cat

A special cat

A ship’s cat.

I was born on the Reliance in 1799.

Of all my mother’s kittens

I was the one most fine.

I’m a black cat

A special cat

A ship’s cat.

I have four snow-white paws

And a white star on my chest.

Of all the cats on board this ship

The sailors like me best.

I’m a black cat

A special cat

A ship’s cat.

When it’s time for dinner

I don’t eat with other cats.

I sit at table with the men.

I don’t care for rats.

I’m a black cat

A special cat

A ship’s cat.

I have a trusty friend

And Matthew Flinders is his name.

He has called me Trim.

I think together we’ll find fame.

I’m a black cat

A special cat

A ship’s cat.

Matthew is a clever man

He’s sailed all round this land.

He’s given it a name

And that’s Australia – how grand.

Perhaps you have a cat at home

Is it as fine as me?

Would it like to come aboard

And sail upon the sea?

With a black cat

A special cat

A ship’s cat.


Pat Simmons © 2014

Reflections on Healthy Eating



I really like couscous, it’s ever so healthy

But those little grains, well they’re ever so stealthy

They stick in your teeth and they just won’t come out

You poke them and prod them and push them about

But the buggers aren’t budging unless you use floss

You’ve got to get forceful and show them who’s boss.

Couscous is tricky, tabouleh’s much worse

Parsley and mint are the devil’s own curse

You must check your teeth

A small mirror’s the tool

Or your smile looks grotesque and you feel such a fool.

Today’s Poem is called ‘Rescue’



He’s funny looking.

He isn’t a puppy.

I say to Mum

He has sad eyes.

Dad says

Maybe we can make those sad eyes happy.

I say to Dad

He’s skinny.

Mum says

Maybe we can make him fatter.

Does he do tricks?

Maybe you could teach him some.

But I don’t know him

And he doesn’t know me.

So many dogs.

So much noise.

We walk up and down

Looking at the dogs.

So many dogs

But we come back to him.

He looks at me.

I look at him.

He doesn’t bark.

He just looks.


They open his cage.

He just looks

Then he licks my hand.

This is the one I say.

This is the one he says.                                   Pat Simmons © 2015

One of my 2015 goals is to blog more. Some of my poetry and flash fiction 100 worders are coming!


Week 45: Ignite – The Negatives – 100 words

She hurls the negatives into the sink. Her hand trembles as she attempts to strike a match. It takes three attempts. The negatives ignite. The smell is acrid, much like the bitterness she feels in her gut. So many years of being blackmailed but now it’s over. He’s dead and Bob, her husband, will never know about those photos. She was young and stupid then and she needed the money.


Sorting through his father’s possessions, he finds an envelope.

‘Son, if you’re ever short of cash this is her name and address and this is the negative she never found.’

Pat Simmons © 2015