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Tim Minchin - photo ABC news

Tim F’ing Minchin

Audio version

 

Owning the moment,
A master at large,
Effortlessly making,
Each one of us laugh.

It’s the tip of the iceberg,
We see on the stage,
Not the talent and toil,
That begins with a page,

Up with the sparrows,
Pad and pen,
Seven mornings a week
From five thirty a.m.

When the mind is fertile,
Full of ideas,
Expectations are low,
Cos nobody cares,

At this point in the game,
When the thoughts start to form,
Begin taking shape,
And an artwork is born.

But what happens next,
Sorts the pros from the rest,
Do you file it away,
And move on to the next?

Or do you plant that page,
In your mind like a seed ,
Let it grow and become,
A rock opera on cheese.

Or a poem for the driver of a mitsubishi colt,
An Ode to a Ginger, or a Trump revolt,
A song about loving somebody else,
Taking lonely tonight,
Leaving LA for self,
Respect and renewal,
Like phoenix from flame,
Golden locks flying,
A genius at play.

Tim Minchin, you’re a wonder,
Clever as fuck,
Keep telling stories,
And don’t ever grow up!

© Lisa Nimmo  20/04/19

Writing for Me

I’m prolific,
It’s terrific,
Ideas pouring out!
Can’t conceive,
Or believe,
I had any doubts.

Yesterday my pen refused,
To scribble on the page,
I’d begun to hunker down,
Submit to middle age.

I thought I had nothing to say,
The world would want to hear,
Worried I’d be criticised,
Now somehow, I don’t care. 

With this subtle shift in attitude,
My morning habits have changed,
Leaping out of bed,
I cannot wait to hit the page.

Snuggle into my favourite chair,
Mohair on my knee,
Mind is quiet, brain is full,
Wrapped in poetry.

Now when I sit down to write,
I do it just for love,
I’m prolific,
It’s terrific,
And that is good enough

© Lisa Nimmo 23/05/2019

Shine

This is my moment,
To have, to hold,
To take risks, be brave,
Creative and bold.

This is my moment,
To stand up and be seen,
Open my heart,
And give all of me.

This is my chance,
To change the world,
Release the genuine,
Natural Pearl.

This is my time,
To swing from the vine,
To leap and to climb,
My moment to shine.

© Lisa Nimmo 2017

Who the heck am I?

Couch-dwelling, pizza-eating mum fights back!

I vividly remember the day, seven years ago, when I walked into my son Ollie’s classroom and saw something shocking, that made me rethink the type of mother (and person) I wanted to be.

He was six at the time and dragged me excitedly through the scattered chairs and desks toward his latest masterpiece—a brightly painted stick figure portrait of his Dad.

“Wow Ollie” I said, admiring Chris’ giant orange head and long spindly arms with amusement. Underneath the painting was a neatly typed caption that read:

“My Dad loves football, playing the piano, Star Wars and drawing cool pictures.”

“Well done buddy,” I praised. “You’ve captured Dad really well.”

“Thanks! And look Mum, here’s yours!” he beamed, proudly gesturing to a bright yellow stick figure with black hair, bright red lips and huge blue eyes (my eyes are actually brown, but never mind).

“Gosh, don’t I look glamorous!” I said happily. Then my gaze fell to the caption underneath. As I read the words, staring at myself through my son’s eyes, I was dumbfounded:

“My Mum works for money, lies on the couch and eats pizza.”

I let the words sink in. Really? I don’t even like pizza! And when do I ever have time to lie on the bloody couch!

“Do you love it Mum?” he asked, his aquamarine eyes searching for approval.

“Oh yes!” I faked, wondering what his teacher had thought when she typed those words, and how many other teachers and parents had seen it.

I hugged my boy, kissed his pink cheeks and bolted home feeling mortified. How could he know so much about his father and so little about me?

Throughout eight years of motherhood I’d given my kids everything I had, but amidst all of that loving, nurturing and machine-like juggling of work and family commitments, I’d shared nothing of the real me. In my son’s eyes I was the money making, couch dwelling, pizza eater. He and my daughter Becky had no clue who I was as a person. And in truth, neither did I.

I realised, by becoming a mother I’d gained two children and lost myself.

That was when I started to write – and over time writing became my way back—an outlet to amuse, inspire and re-discover who I am.

Over the following years I made an effort to ensure my kids got to see the real me. When I wasn’t working or hanging out with them, I was writing, making art for the walls, jogging with my friends or pottering in the garden. I felt that if I could model for them an authentic, balanced life then one day they’d go out into the world and create their own.

Well, that was the plan anyway…

Fast forward seven years and I’m curious about whether the effort I’ve made to share more of myself has given Ollie and Becky, now 13 and 14, a better understanding of me than the ‘couch dwelling pizza eater.’  So the other day I decided to ask them:

Me:  “If someone asked you to describe your mum (a.k.a. me), what would you say? What’s my personality like? What interests do I have? How do I like to spend my time?”

Here’s how they replied:

Becky:  “I really don’t think anyone cares enough to ask that question, Mum.”
Ollie:   “You like sitting on the couch and eating pizza … same as always.”

The moral of the story? If you choose to add a little more balance to your life, make sure you do it for yourself, not your kids. Chances are they probably won’t even notice or care! Eventually, when they leave home we’ll be left with whatever life we created for ourselves when we chose to be something other than their parent. So go for it!

Until next time,

Lisa x

 

Lisa Nimmo is an author, speaker and mum of two teenagers, based in Wellington New Zealand. If you’d like to know more visit lisanimmo.com

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