Look...New Website for The Little Dun Pony

Hello,

The Little Dun Pony has a new self hosting website and you can view it here: http://www.thelittledunpony.com.au/

It is still a work in progress, but I'll be back to writing real soon. In the mean time you can still drop by here to read back issues of my writing.

Cheers

Julie aka the little dun pony

My Guest Post

Photo credit - shho

I was asked by Our Little Books to write a guest post on their blog, I am humbled and I am honored.

The networking and creativity of blogging is truly alive and if you have been thinking about setting up a blog then here is a bit of encouragement for you. Click this link to be taken to my guest post.

3 cheers for Entrecard !!

Picture credit - entrecard

Entrecard rules...ok

So, there I was sitting at my faithful computer...madly dropping entrecards on all the sites that had dropped on me...it can take me up to an hour some days and dragging myself from my slumber to do so is fraught with danger until that cup of coffee is in hand.
I had noticed a lot of blog posts about entrecard and thought to myself that there was a lot of people that liked EC (entrecard) and so I must be on a good thing.

I then spied a blog post that mention a 5000 credit of EC  (click on link to go to competition site) and thought to myself as I sipped my hot char...how'd I miss that one. So faster than superman I leaped over to my blog and let my fingers do the talking.

I am in love with EC...not only does it direct more traffic to my blog...after all who doesn't want more traffic? But it has allowed friendship develop between a few EC droppers. I love the fact that people we the human race...the one and only under the sun...can travel into each others worlds for a EC stop over.

I am blown away by technology and still marvel over how the humble telephone works. Congrats to you EC and your efforts have been noted. 5 stars and the moon to boot on a job well done.

Ok, back to EC dropping...oh and a new cup of coffee, the other one is cold now.

Henry - part two

Photo credit - cwd0107

Read part one first !!



Looking to the sky as it changed from bright blue to darkish grey, He sighed heavily, as deep thunder rolled on the mountains edge. The weather turned nasty and a swirl of dust and autumn leaves weaved under the legs of the horses. Fidgeting they pranced: keen to move away from the impending storm. Henry unhitched them and led them to the barn. One horse was a grey mare issued to him when he signed at Bellow Bluff Creek. The other, a brown horse, belonged to his cousin Ralph, who fell at the battle of Red Tree Hill.

Henry's callous hands pushed the heavy oak doors open and the roof beams creaked loudly. A loft of pigeons hasty to retreat, flew out leaving a swirl of dirt, dust and straw. Peering through the dust, Henry could hear his father's voice echo as he retold the story of the barn.

One hundred years ago, his father's father had lumbered every plank from the forest by the creek and had forged every nail. Like the aroma of home from a Sunday roast, the barn stood as a symbol for he and his ancestors.

The shadows disappeared as the day darkened and a deep gurgling rumble of thunder heralded the storms arrival. Henry shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and sauntered back to the manor. But as he sat on the steps of his family's home, he felt enriched by the legacy etched in his veins.

A tear, rolled down his cheek when he remembered, what he promised his mother, at his father's death bed, he vowed to return.

The war hardened him. His face grimaced. The reflection of blood shed stained in his pupils.

But, as the drops fell, he was reminded of what his father scolded to him all those years ago, there was no place like home.

Gorilla Marketing Online Secret Santa Blog Carnival 4

Gorilla Marketing on-line angels in secret Santa hats,

the forth (Carnival)

Welcome to the forth chapter of secret Santa Carnival only for those Gorilla Marketing on-line angels with updated blogs posts.

To be apart of this fun and engaging carnival: join our web traffic and marketing tool.

Megan at Imaginif...the spirit of Christmas lasted sniffed out another excellent traffic generation tool. In Does TRAFFICadbar generate website traffic? Megan promises to test the site on behalf of all we secret Santas and is even using the site she gorilla markets for as a guinea pig! Her first reports are positive – in just 24 hrs, Megan’s website Buddy (Hayley the gorilla artist http://www.hjgillespie.com/) received 115 visits. That’s an awesome secret Santa gift. It is early days but if you would like to try this out for yourself and your website buddy, Megan has provided a link on her post to take you straight to the registration site. Just click on the red ad in Megan’s post.

Reuse and Recycle, Cairns is hitting all the right buttons (either clothes or keyboards) and taking a stand for the environment, world and human kind...thanks for caring. So please...do not stow or throw it, but reuse and recycle it. With Halloween approaching check out these funky skeletons.

NOTE: Sunday, @Reuse Recycle, Cairns has a trash n treasure garage sale (not before 6am! peoples)
315 Lake St~ 0406 123 381 We are passing on a chunk of funds to TocH (youth charity). Please share with your networks...

Bronwyn continues to Inspire change with her attitudinal shifts. Take a road trip with Bronwyn and see how she continues to grow and learn from every golden moment she experiences. Come away feeling inspired and moved to make the most out of your experiences too.

Our Little Books challenges us to keep writing and writing well. For all you entrepreneurs a must read of featured authors. Read question 12 and 13...the answers are very inspiring.

Brenda from FNQ Apartments has the most amazing knowledge to offer around what to do when visiting our fantastic Far Northern Australia region. In Australian Aboriginal Three Day Outback Tour Brenda gives both thumbs up to an Australian Aboriginal rainforest, outback and sacred site tour. When you come to visit us in Cairns, be sure to connect with Brenda and pick her brains about what she can offer you for accommodation and tours. What that woman doesn’t know about holidaying here isn’t worth knowing.

Marion - ""I am advocating very strongly healing with Homeopathy. It comes back to trusting in yourself, listing to your body, fine tuning and working with what you have got, …because you have got all you need!!"" I will do more of that from now on.

Donna is keeping the world spinning by her finally tuned workshops. The women who shine workshop is happening very soon and is very empowering.

Hayley is just amazing. If there is one thing you need to do or have not put on your list of things to do...is to check out Hayley's art. Her painting of horses (and as a horse lover I am biased) are just magical.

Julie - Here at The Little Dun Pony I am moving along nicely. I've unbridled my horse and feel more like Pegasus. Keep an eye on what the ponies are up to...some exciting changes will be happening shortly. Mean time check out the latest lot of flash fiction.

If you would like to host this round up on your site next week, just let Megan know. By sharing the hosting, sites attract more incoming links that subsequently increase their indexing, ranking and traffic. The work load involves visiting each of the secret Santas sites (with blogs) and writing a short blurb around what they’re up to.

Ok..I'm done, had a very interesting time, spending time getting to know you all better. I hope this weeks carnival brings loads of hits and support. Take care Secret Santa's. xx

Tay and Me

Photo credit - plrang

Like a freeze frame photo, capturing that one instant moment of joy, laughter, tears, fear and sadness, I stared at her beauty of vision. Her red hair captured my intentions and her green eyes coloured my life and made me gasp for breath. I blushed as she looked up at me from the other side of the table, she caught me looking at her...soaking in her existence.

The tea room at work buzzed with people scoffing down lunch and yet through all the hype, noise and chatter, we shared a silent moment in heart beats. That silent connection of two people longing to be with another and it was then we saw each other.

Never before had we exchanged the idea of interest and never before had either of us been so open about it. We stared into each others eyes as if we saw each other for the first time, as if life its self was glowing alert signals of inhibitions spared.

The words 'girlee spot' flicked brightly in fluorescent pink. I liked the atmosphere of the club, I could be my true self. No masks and no hiding.

A group of girls stood close to me and their laughter exploded as they teased a girl sitting alone at the bar. She had been there for many hours, just sitting, staring deep into her drink. Stirring the ice cubes around and around with her straw. I was so occupied with fitting into this ignorant group of people I had not even looked at her and had blindly laughed at their hurtful comments.

“Look at her,” one girl said, stretching out her arm and with a sharp finger pointed.
Caught up in the shallowness of humanity, I pushed past the girls to spy a look at what dastardly thing sat alone at the bar. As I pushed through the crowd she turned to walk out and we stood face to face...it was Taylor.

We had worked together for three years. Pleasant and friendly, she kept some what to herself. What would she think of me being at this place......what did she think I thought of her being at the same club. Keeping work life and private life separate was easy up to now, but now I felt like a naughty little girl with my hand in the cookie jar.

“Hi Jilly,” her voice cheerfully.
“Hi Tay,” I mumbled out, ashamed of my primitive behaviour.

I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her red hair hung gracefully on her shoulders...she always wore it up at work...she flicked her hair back and a piece fell over her face, without thinking I gently brushed it aside, her hand caught mine and in that second my pulse raced around my body faster than a V8 hot lap.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Tay asked,
“Strong bow,” I answered.
She let go off my hand, I'm not ever washing my hand again...and put my hand in my pocket as if to preserve the impression she left.

The crowd I'd been hanging with stumbled into me...their fill of liquor obvious from the slur of words.
“What are you doing?” Their ignorance now became annoying. How the hell did I end up with them?
I looked at Tay and longed to take her...her smile said it was ok to leave, but no, I wanted to be with her.
“I'm having a drink with Tay,”
The group screwed up their faces like a pug dog and stumbled back into each other as they wafted back to the dance floor.

“You don't have to stay,” Tay said doubting how much she was affecting me.
“Yes I'm staying...” I said confidently... “I want to know how this ends...”

The River Ride - part two



Photo credit - coniferine



Read part one 

I eased off, not really wanting to witness what I knew was going to happen. The horse didn't stop at the swollen raging river, he leapt into it, tripping as he went causing him to somersault into the water. The rider thrown under him, she disappear from site for a few seconds before thankfully surfacing on the other side, disorientated and hurt, but alive.

I yelled to her not to move and wait for help. There was a family nearby fishing who had witnessed the event and on my prompting them they came to her aid.

I then turned my attention back to young boy, he was slowly walking back, his sister walking next to him. When they arrived at the river, we decided that the young boy would have to be first to cross, as he was injured, we later found out he had cracked ribs. We had to cross at the river mouth, it was deeper and more torrent, but further up the river was quicksand.

His sister and I carried him into the torrent. I was wearing long riding boots and as soon as the water reached the top of the boots they filled with water and I lost my footing and was carried away beneath the foaming water for about one hundred meters. I surfaced gasping to take a breath, but swallowed more water than air. There was a fallen tree that I was able to grab hold off and pull myself to the safety of the bank.

Petrified of my near drowning, I got to my feet and staggered back, feeling obliged to get these young riders safely across. I took off my boots and jeans to keep me lighter. On the second attempt we made it successfully across.

Unfortunately, for me, I had to cross back to get my horse - the bottom of the river had a few exposed rocks and I unluckily tripped on one of these and again was swept away under the water. This time however I did not surface so readily, in fact I could feel the air escape from my burning lungs and wanted to gasp. I did gasp as a reflex and swallowed a large amount of muddy water. I couldn't see and I was unable to think as the torrent waters tossed me about effortlessly. My arms bumped into rocks and some how my psyche told me to grab hold. I raked my fingers threw the mud feeling for rocks and when I felt one I grabbed hold.

Holding onto the rock was enough for me to be able to pull myself above the water. Chocking and spitting out water my lungs screamed for fresh air. Those first few gulps of air I took felt like a knife stabbing my body and I could hear the water gargle in my lungs.

I dragged myself up the river bank and I felt something nudge me and opened my eyes to see Bindi standing over me. I heaved, coughed and spurted out muddy river water. I remember looking up at the sky, thinking, that was close.

I felt weak, my legs felt like lead. Somehow though I managed to crawl up on my horse and he walked along the bank of the river a few strides before he stepped in. I clung to him as tight as I could and he walked bravely into the river. The river swept us away briefly, but Bindi swam and he was strong horse, he pulled us through. I looked back at the other riders and could see they were all safe and an ambulance had arrived for the beginner and young boy. Satisfied all was ok, I said to Bindi 'take me home'.

Henry

Photo credit - woopido2

Part One

Strong dry and hot easterly winds stirred, they introduced the big black clouds looming on the horizon. White flashes of lightning impressed upon the drought stricken land that a definite change was coming.

Henry was one of seven children. He was the only son of an aristocrat father, who, scolded him the day he decided to leave. Stubborn until his dying breathe - his father blamed him, for abandoning the family legacy and bringing shame and embarrassment to the family name.

Henry broke generations of tradition and defied his father's will. The patriotic longing to serve his country was more profound than tolling the soil of the family heritage and it kept him away for to long.

The old carriage squeaked to a halt, Henry pulled the two tied horses to a stop. Their flanks, from haste, were dripping with sweat. Henry wiped the sweat from his brow, and he scanned the long track that led back to the manor. He noticed the calibre of oak trees had become over grown. The bright white paint of the wooden fences that lined the farm boundary had faded. The wooden panels were broken and in need of repair. The wrought iron gate that he and his father had built, and once proudly displayed the family name, was now rusty and swung from one hinge.

The easterly wind pushed hard and a loud crack startled the horses as a branch from an oak tree snapped off.
“Steady,” his voice, warmly reassuring.
Henry turned his collar high around his neck and pulled his worn hat further down.

A slight tap of the reins on the horse's back gave the signal to move on. Henry let the horses walk at their own pace. There was no hurry now he was back. The clip clop of the horse's hooves on the gravel combined with the carriage wheels, echoed soothing sounds. Henry felt a warm feeling sweep through his body. A flood of childhood memories clouded his thoughts. The years seemed to blend in together, fogging clarity, he realised he had lost track of time and places.

Rounding the last bend in the road Henry smiled, as he saw the grand manor still standing tall. It's grace was a little worse for wear. The gable hung loose and the roof balustrade was missing. The once shining white columns, weathered. The prestigious and vibrant garden beds that laced the crisp cut lawns had become overgrown with weeds. The pristine roses that bloomed annually had withered and died. A sad lonely silence filled the air.

Returning home was not quite what he had pictured in his mind. The last time he had returned five red setter dogs came barking out to meet him, followed by six boisterous boys and two blonde curled girls, the children of his siblings. The fresh perfume of newly budded roses and the sweet smell of fresh cut oaten hay, scented the air. Workers cheerfully whistled, busy in the garden grounds. Henry's heart sank, saddened by reality, that the bustling field activity he remembered had ceased long ago.

...To Be Continued...

Go directly to part two

Inspiring change - Bronwyn Clee

Photo credit - hosttas

Love your life, laugh often and leave the path

you walked a better one

for those that are yet to come this way

 

http://www.bronwynclee.com/

 

 

What a beautiful and awe-inspiring affirmation.

Words that speak loudly and directly to the heart.

Sentences that make the soul sing.

 

I found this inspiring site when flicking through a list of sites attached to a secret Santa/gorilla marketing campaign.

 

Bronwyn Clee: is passionate about being the inspiring change in her life. With that statement a firm affirmation; Bronwyn can also help you. Well catered for programs and workshops setup to help you realise your full potential, self development and goals. Apply this to the workplace and you have an all round mentor and coaching facilitator in one.

 

Bronwyn has recently released her new ebook 'Conversations with my Qualities'. A must read for any self help enthusiast.

 

If you want to be enriched, inspired, moved and take a stand for YOU check out Bronwyn Clee.

 



The River Ride - part one

Photo Credit - Vixs

Often after a long days work, a few of us would saddle up and go for a relaxing ride along the beach. There is nothing more quaint, than a ride on a pristine white sandy beach with crystal blue water washing on the shore. The continual roll of the waves caressing your inner soul peacefully.


That day, I decided to ride bareback so I could take my horse, Bindi, in for a swim. Swimming a horse is an amazing experience, you put your feet on the horses chest and hold on up near the bridle. Their power in the water as is out, is awe inspiring and the way they propel you through the water like the bow of a ship is pure unbridled strength.


Six of us were experienced horse riders, but one girl was a beginner and no one seemed to take heed except me. I kept a close eye on her, as the horse she was riding could be a handful.


We got to the main beach and the tide was out, which meant we could cross the river with ease. However, none of us were aware that within minutes of us crossing, the tide turned and turned into a raging torrent, leaving us stranded on the other side.


We were unaware of our misfortune until I noticed the waves were crashing further up the beach than normal. A panic surged through me like the tide and I stopped everyone.
“We have to go back, I think the tide has turned and we are going to get trapped,”
Everyone agreed although a little disappointed that the laughs and fun were cut short.


A boy of fourteen began to panic, he said that he couldn't swim and was scared of the river being in full flood to cross. I assured everyone we would be ok, as the eldest of the group they all looked to me. However the young boy spooked himself and took off at a mad gallop. The young boy's horse was a tall ex racehorse with an unusually high wither. As I galloped along side him, I noticed his saddle slipping back, but by the time I could tell him, it had slipped all the way back to the horses tail and the boy fell off. The horse gripped by fear changed direction and galloped directly into the sea. The saddle fell off down his back legs and tripped the horse, who fell beneath the waves. He was found several hours later eating grass at the local caravan park. He was ok, less his ordeal.


I pulled my horse up to check the boy was ok, the others had stopped to help, he was badly winded but no broken bones.


My ears filled with the screams blowing on the wind and I saw the beginner rider having no control over her horse as it bolted. Now the rule is: you never chase a bolting horse, as the bolting horse thinks it becomes a race and goes faster.
Afraid she would fall off, I sensed a disaster about to happen and cringed at the thought. I made a split second decision knowing the rule of chasing down bolting horses. This was an exception and I had had experience chasing bolting horses and knew Bindi could catch him.


Bindi reared as I dug my heels into his flanks and did my horsey noise...”sssssss,”
Within a few strides we were in full gallop.

As I was approaching the beginner rider I could see the river swollen with the high tide. I knew this wasn't going to end pretty.
“Pull on your reins...pull on your reins,” I continually shouted at the frightened girl. But fear gripped her and she could not hear me.


To be continued...

Read part two

Gin and Tonic for me please...

The room felt like I was standing on a white sandy beach on a deserted island. The sand squished between my toes and my long hair blown and tangled by the afternoon breeze. Licking my lips I could taste the salt from the sea spray and squinting my eyes to peer through the hazy smoke hoping to spy a face I might recognise. I lifted my Gin and Tonic to my dry lips and sucked it down, cringing as the gin burnt the back of my throat.


A guy looked in my direction and my heart began to beat faster and my palms became sweaty that I nearly dropped my drink. To avoid his eye contact I made out that I was looking at my watch. Thank gawd for that, the last thing I needed was some guy pinning me down to rattle off his exploits.
I kept scanning the room for a familiar face or a laugh I recognised, but nothing, no one.
If I don't see someone soon I know I'm just going to burst.


I flicked my hair back and put my hand on my hip trying to look casual. I took another swig of my drink and it went down the wrong way and I began chocking; I was spitting and spurting the gin back out when I noticed her.


Ok then, chat time, go for it.
I regained some composure and gently patted my lips with the serviette they gave me at the bar with my drink. I tried tucking my hand in my pocket and remembered I was wearing a skirt, I slowly sauntered over to her, being mind-full to take small steps in fear of slipping over on my high heels. Not a good look to see a woman sprawled, legs in ever direction on her back with knickers up her crack on the dance floor...
“Hi,” I said relieved that my ankles and elastics were in tact.


Gracious as ever, she took her hand and with her thumb brushed a splash of gin off my chin...yes kiss me now...just do it...
Embarrassed, I felt my cheeks blush and thought great now she thinks I'm a slob. I held the drink up and plainly stated it was not my first choice of alcohol beverage, I'd rather a cold frothy beer and to show that I was capable of making an informed decision, I promptly signalled the bar attendant.


I slammed the glass that had housed my gin and tonic down on the bar and it sloshed out over my hand. She giggled at my feeble attempt of impressing her. Leaning over the bar to hear the bar tender and shout my request of drinks we knocked heads...great not only am I a slush but an idiot as well...'beer and...' I pointed at the drink she held and the bartender nodded.


I sipped my frothy cold beer and smiled as I looked into her green eyes. She was amused or interested...whatever, she was still here. She stepped in closer and her soft lips touched mine...oh yes...yes...her tongue slid out and she licked my beer moustache, great...turned on by a beer moustache licking lesbian.


I felt the room vibrate and heard cheers from the crowd as the music grew louder. She took my hand and led me to the dance floor and it seemed like eternity before she danced around my body. Every now and then, teasingly, she bumped into me.


Unable to delay gratification, I grabbed her and pulled her to me, my breath quickened with her vivacious smile. Her hand went up the back of my blouse and shivers of anticipation rocketed through my system. She lent in and kissed my neck and whispered “You know, every woman in this room has eye's for me...” yep that was obvious, “...and you're the one I want.”

The Callings

Yearning to belong to this country; I have openly moved my being to greet the elements.

I have over the years of my journey felt the longing call and the inner psyche pull to scoop up pieces of this country's vast history. A shell here, a pebble there.

Each has given me memorable pleasure of self compassion and self development.

The marble of Dimbulah: helped me to see that no matter who you are, it is what you can offer to yourself and then others that is important. My spirit feels the bridled passion of home. Among the red dirt and green gum trees my spirit stands; naked to the presence of this country.

The gratitude rock: reminds me to be grateful to all that has been in my life, the good and the bad. I am consciously aware of my existence.

The angel rock: holding it close to my heart, I feel the angels of loved ones past swoon around me. Their peace and contentment gives me strength and hope to continue on my life's journey and adventure.

The Bloodstone rock: allows me to self heal and believe in the natural healing of the universe.

The owl: (Pictured) called to me while having coffee. I walked along and without thinking where I was going found myself in a quaint second hand shop, tucked away in an arcade. Completely out of my comfort zone I put faith and wisdom in the owl and it led me to see my own eternity of self.

I have answered most calls, but there are a few that I didn't, not being aware that the universe was giving me what I was thinking about. However, my psyche fresh and honed, ready for all that the universe provides is an awaking reality of my purpose here and now.

The treasures are many and many are the stories. The yearning to belong has ceased and my yearning is to be one with you, now and forever in earthly eternity.

The South Paw

Photo credit - mailsparky

The sun burnt through the car window onto my arm, I could feel the sting as my skin turned red. I pulled my arm back, no sun cancer for me I thought. Starring out the window I watched paddock after paddock of wheat crops flash by, squinting my eye's, made them look like a golden streak.


He and I would drive for hours, not a word spoken. It would only be obvious to me what I was about to endure when we arrived at the destination.


He turned off the highway and onto a gravel road, I tried to snatch a glimpse of the road's name but the street sign had been shot up. The cars wheel's drove onto the gravel road and that popping sound the gravel makes under the wheel always made me feel like home. But this gravel road was not the run to the farmhouse, it was leading me to somewhere that I didn't know.


Again he turned off the road and onto a dirt track, it had not been used in awhile from the bushy stripe that ran down the middle of the track. Dust started to pour in the car, so I wound the window up and put on the air-con. It was one thing to have a half sun burnt arm and another to get sinus' from dust.


The brakes squeaked as he stopped the car, I looked around quickly, trying to get a sense of my bearings...I saw two other cars, both long black BMW's. that had there window's blacked out...mafia.

In the middle of a hot summers afternoon; where sticky flies crawled relentlessly into the corner of my eyes to suck on what moisture they could find, to the odd piercing caw of a lone crow and the faint baa calls of sheep echoed through the land.


I sat glued to my spot, what fucking ambush has he got me in today...I angerly thought.
I wanted to beat the shit out of him.


The unknown occupants got out and looked each other over, we got out too and they looked us up and down. She spied me like I was some product on display at the local shop. Her blond hair tied back in a pony tail, her body tanned and muscle, it was a fight.

They exchanged nods and it was on.

I cringed at the thought, why couldn't I just punch his head a  few times, he'll keep...I hated him for always setting me up in these situations. I hated him period!


I walked out to the edge of the wheat crop, its sweet smell softening to my psyche and a gentle reminder that the world can be a beautiful place. The fighter jogged over punching the air as she came and flexing her muscles as she showed her prowess in body building poses. Far from being intimidated, show pony. I had seen it before and knew that I would see it again.


I didn't want to hurt the girl, but like a dog backed into a corner, I would bite.
I grew anxious, sweat already was forming on my brow. There was no way I could back out now, fuck I really hated him, either way I was fucked, by him or the mob.
The fighter and I took to the open ring and squared up to face each other, bare knuckled.
I let all outside noises drown from my ears. Like tunnel vision, my attention was only on the orthodox fighter, it was not only about winning the fight but proving myself to him so that he would some how acknowledge my existence as important.


We sized each other up and danced around each other gracefully flirting our skills. Gesturing to the other, trying to entice the fiery of the other fighter to ignite and explode with the first punch. My patience was long but I knew to gain his approval I would have to be quick. I gritted my back teeth and crunched on sand grains that I had sucked in from the dust, I spat it on the ground.


The fighter gave an arrogant nod at me, asking the question – did I have what it would take to win this fight? I always played my cards close to my chest and the fighter became agitated and said something in a language, that I couldn't understand but by the laughter that came from her corner, I knew it was a sly remark at me.


I was a tough chick and didn't tolerate rude behaviour.
"What! Can't you speak english?"
The fighter looked at me confused, I was right, she no comprehendo.
Foreigners.


That was enough for me to fuel my rage and I planted my feet and in a smooth one two movement jabbed with the right hand and straight punched with the left. It landed on the  fighters chin and for a second the fighter lost her balance, falling backwards amongst the wheat crop. I drew back and wiped the beads of sweat from my face, I could feel the sting of the sun on my face and I squinted and put my hand up to block the suns ray's and I saw the fighter look over to her corner and some big greasy fat bloke was shouting,
“get in there, get in there,”


The fighter got to her feet and dusted her self off, using this as a stalling tactic to try and lure me into a false sense of security...the fighter lunged at me, I advanced towards her and again planted my feet and again jabbed and punched with a hook. It landed on the cheek bone and a cracking sound boomed over the jeering from the side line - the bone broken.

The fighter bent over and sucked in large amounts of air. The fat greasy guy was yelling profanity at her. She shook her head and he yelled more louder and gestured violently towards her, she straightened and side way glanced at me. She raised her fists and took a few steps forward.


I changed my stance to orthodox and charged in. I jabbed to the left, jabbed to the right, then dropped both hands. Confused the fighter again lunged forward and I broke with an upper cut. A deafening crunch echoed in my ears as her teeth tore through her upper lip and blood spewed out. The fighter screamed in pain and withdrew.


I looked in my corner and he stood arms folded, he nodded in gesture to finish the fighter off.


I stepped in fists clenched, bobbing and weaving. The fighter huddled in her corner, but she was pushed back into the ring...she spat a vile amount of blood and saliva on the ground and bobbed and weaved trying to protect her broken face.


The fighter leapt forward in a variety of combinations and I grabbed hold of her and pushed her back. I then repeatedly punched with left hooks. I let her go and she fell, her face covered in blood – the fighter put her hand up – she had had enough.


I walked to my corner, not a mark on me and all he said was that I 'took too long.'


I looked back over my shoulder and saw two blokes usher the fighter in the car's and they drove off in a hurry, spinning their wheels as they left. Then as if taking the first breath since arriving, I sighed heavily. I wondered what trophy he gained from me winning.


The drive home was in silence, my thoughts turned to the other fighter and hoped that she would fair ok and if her captures were kinder to her than mine. I looked at my hands and my knuckles bruised, bloodied and the skin torn. I didn't feel any pain, I was numb. Numb from the very essences of every position he put me in - because I was just some girl surviving the best and only way I knew how.

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What an extremely wonderful day I have had. The Book Creators book expo was held today at the Blue Mango and a fantastic assortment of exhibitor's display a fine and very professional arrange of books. With three new books launched - two from right here in Cairns and the third respectfully from Bundaberg.

Our lovely major - Val - opened the expo and even stayed for the book launches, very impressed.

I was happy pottering around the stalls talking and swapping ideas. As a volunteer, I enjoyed helping the exhibitors with all their needs.

Had a fantastic chat with Margie Gargen founder of Bloomhill Cancer Help. Was inspired by Helen Ross from Brisbane, one of BCC's guests.

Now, of course I did buy some books...have a few to keep me occupied for a while.

The first book, is by local writer/author Megan Bayliss (This Woman is truly amazing and very awe inspiring) - Bitss of Caramel Marmalade on Toast, be quick to snap the few remaining copies...they sell like hot cakes.

The second book is by Stephen Chong - on your list of people you'd love to chat with over coffee, add this talented man. His book - The Book of Testaments will surely have you reaching your goals and inspiring your dreams with a full sense of self worth.

My third selection was It's All Relative: stories to shorten your travel time, by Chris Shaw. This wonderful and witty man has many riveting stories to tell and will definitely have you coming back for more.

My last book but no way in the least was Bubble Gum Trouble by children's author Helen Ross aka Miss Helen. This book tells stories by poems. What a creative way to think outside the box. As Helen said..."it is not the end result, but the journey,"

Play on Words

Photo credit - ngould

Imaginif ... Bronwyn Clee and associates used guts n glory to inspire change.

Ecsta-she used her psi tutor that had several of our little books to help set-up complete for the Sydney karaoke machine.

After seeing the little dun pony at professional learning board a new leaf and nu skin with a weight loss diet helped to get leading edge personal development.

I'm celebrating life now and spoilt myself at ethical gifts before taking the time innate personal development for all. Then took a long over due holiday at FNQ Apartments.

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Ranger



Ranger



I lent on the timber yard rail and recalled the story the farmer had told me. I was still mortified that people could be so cruel.

I first saw him, in the middle of summer, standing under the shade of a old gum tree. His tail swishing to and fro and his ears flickering back and forth at the annoying flies. For a short stocky little pony he had an appeal about him and when I looked in his eye I could see the pain.
 He was named Ranger and his story is amazing.


Ranger was sold to a family. They were green when it came to knowledge of horses. They had an old dirty, rat infested stable and decided to buy a horse to fill it. Ranger unfortunately became that horse and he spent his days standing in the stable. Day in day out. The stable was never mucked out so he stood in his own waste. The only time he was allowed out was when the family wanted to ride him and pretty quickly the novelty wore off.


Their ignorant lack of horse husbandry became Ranger's worst nightmare.
Occasionally they fed and watered him and during the winter months the family put a rug on him. The rug however, was never removed until summer and by then it had rubbed his skin bare, open wounds fested on his chest, wither and rump, he was also heavy infested with lice.


Ranger was stumbled upon by a local farmer and when he unbolted the stable door he was hit with a stench of urine and rotting flesh. The farmer was gobsmacked by what he saw - a saddened stance of head hanging low from despair and rats crawling all over him. They were literally eating him. He was weak from lack of food and had severe muscle deterioation.

When the vet saw him, he said that 'the kindest thing to do was shoot him', but the farmer wouldn't hear off it.
"I'll take him home and he can spend out his life there, peaceful and free,"
It took over twevel months before Ranger's wound's could heal but unfortunately he was psychologically damaged.

He would stand as far away as possible from people and he was impossible to catch. To avoid it he would run into barb wire fences and since the farmer didn't want him to get injured any more, he ceased trying to catch him. 
"I had no intenion of riding him," I told the farmer oneday.

During spring, the paddock was a wash of yellow daisies. I was sitting about forty meters from Ranger and feeling relaxed by the sunny day, nodded off. When I woke I rolled over on my side to stretch and there relaxing in the shade of a tree a few meters from me was Ranger. I held my breath and dare not move thinking I would frighten him. But he lifted his head from his sleepy slumber looked at me and let out a heavy sigh before going back to his afternoon nap.


The next day as I walked towards him he noticed me coming and he began to walk towards me. I stopped shocked by what I was seeing, the jewbelation I felt for this horse's break through bought tears to my eye's. He nuzzled into my arm as if to say where's my carrot?
 I spent one year working with Ranger and his confidence grew. Before long I knew he needed to spread his wings and made the tough descision to sell him. He was sold to the riding for the disabled were he thrived. He was the favourite among the kids and adults alike. He lived another fifteen years and was twenty six when he died. I never forgot that plucky little pony and one day I saw him at a local show and when I looked in his eye's his pain had gone.





Me on Ranger



Dingo Pup

Photo credit - MSBegy

Legend talks of a bull so mean he was never ridden and the spurs that hang on the old fence is testament to the cowboys who have tried. They say you can hear their voice every eight seconds on the territory wind.


As I cocked one leg on the bottom rail of the old wooden stock yard I listened to the old man tell the story of the meanest bull he'd ever ridden.


When he was young and worked mustering in the outback he remembers seeing the meanest bull.
A tough and rugged scrub bull had his plight changed the day young Jake rode into Arnela station.


Jake steps into the cattle yard and makes his intention known. An eerie silence broken by the swirl of dust and straw. He spies a tornado of blood mixed for ultimate destruction. His pedigree feral. He commands the ring. He demands respect. He gives no mercy.


The Bull whips his head from side to side and sharpens his deadly horns along the ground. A surge of raging power bolts down his legs as he menacingly paws the dry earth, throwing down the glove he makes his challenge. Jake nods his head challenge accepted.


The bull stands steely poised. A picture of brute strength and presence. Clouded by an aura of decree he dangerously gives nothing away. Piercing through he eyes right into the soul and he instills in every courageous cowboy that dares to wear the spur a dripping cold sweat of fear.


He entices Jake into a false sense of confidence as he patiently and calmly stands in the chute. They tug on the ropes and tightening the flank straps. Ready Jake sits over his gloved hand. His heart beat bursts through his chest as he tries to focus on the ride.


The chute gate swings open and the savagery of the bull explodes and there in the presence of the every brave cowboy that has gone before him, Jake's finds his right of passage written in eight seconds on a bull they call Dingo Pup.


Footnote: Alternate


As a young girl in pigtails, I remember great uncle Jake tell the story of a bull. How cowboys from all over the country came to claim their right to passage of eight seconds and so the legend was born.


I had travelled many miles to a destination marked on no map. To see for myself the wall of spurs that hung on the old rabbit proof fence.


A willy willy swirls and twist by me and in the dust I hear their voices tell me the tale of the bull they called Dingo Pup.


Cowboy after cowboy steps into the cattle yard and makes his intention known. An eerie silence broken by the swirl of dust and straw as he spies a tornado of blood mixed for ultimate destruction. His pedigree feral. He commands the ring. He demands respect. He gives no mercy.


The Bull whips his head from side to side and sharpens his deadly horns along the ground. A surge of raging power bolts down his legs as he menacingly paws the dry earth, throwing down the glove he makes his challenge. The cowboy nods his head challenge accepted.


The bull stands steely poised. A picture of brute strength and presence. Clouded by an aura of decree he dangerously gives nothing away. Piercing through he eyes right into the soul and he instills in every courageous cowboy that dares to wear the spur a dripping cold sweat of fear.


He entices the cowboy into a false sense of confidence as he patiently and calmly stands in the chute. They tug on the ropes and tightening the flank straps. Ready, the cowboy sits over his gloved hand. His heart beat bursts through his chest as he tries to focus on the ride.


The chute gate swings open and the savagery of the bull explodes and there in the presence of the every brave cowboy that has gone before him he hangs his spur up too.