‘Half Your Luck’ and Haiku by Rose Williams

Rose is an 81 year old poet, mother of 6, grandmother of 14 and great-grandmother of Frankie Rose. Rose finds inspiration reading, walking, and at the beach, and loves coffee and time with family and friends.



I’ve always been a loser, never had no luck

From the time I was a baby and couldn’t learn to suck.

Me mother had to feed me through little toothless gums

Mushy sloppy stuff and nasty gritty crumbs.

And when I started school, I was put into a class

With a bloody crabby teacher who used to whack me arse.

I always got me sums wrong, kept in every night.

So when I turned fifteen, I packed the schoolin in

And went lookin for a job but even then, I couldn’t win.

I read the ads and rang up but was always just too late

Because the bus broke down or I misinterpreted the date.

So I ended up a garbo. Mind you, I’m not ashamed.

Someone’s gotta do the job but I’m always bein blamed

When the rubbish bins tip over . It isn’t bloody fair.

You’d think when luck was handed out, I’d get me bloody share.

I don’t walk under no ladders, I’m careful as can be

But if mishaps are gunna happen, they’ll all fall on to me.

I tried me hand at cricket, thought that might change me luck

But the first time I went in to bat, I went out for a duck.

I bought raffle tickets, Lotto, me numbers never spin up.

I’ve bet on horses, played the pokies, never got a win up.

And then I fell in love and married Betty Bragg.

I thought I was one lucky guy till she began to nag.

Soon’s she had the ring on, she tried to change me ways

I had to give up fags and drink. She took charge of me pay.

I had to shave each morning, put on clean underwear

And sex? Mate, I’ve forgotten cos it was bloody rare.

Well. I comes home this evenin, on time so she don’t get sore

And the house is bloody silent and there’s a note stuck on the door.

I have to read it twice, I can’t believe me eyes.

She’s left me, Betty has, for some sensitive new age guy.

And when I told me mate, he turned green as our garbo truck.

‘ You bloody lucky bastard mate. Wish I had half your luck !!’



After Good Friday

We stand on our crosses

Before supermarket shelves.


Legs tightly crossed

She awaits delivery

Of toilet rolls.


My best friend and I

Meet for take away coffee 

Too far apart.


Masked and sanitised

Neighbours pass neighbours

Recognising no one.



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