Poems by James Irvine

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Short stories, 3DPoetry, Poetpics, Photopoetry & philosophy by James Irvine

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Ch.4 - A passage of transformation

January 4, 2019



Chapter 4

A passage of transformation


The next day, Harvey was conspicuous by his absence. In fact, for the rest of the week he was absent. Miss Spencer grew increasingly concerned and visited his mother, anxious for his welfare.

“I hope he’s ok too Miss! Unfortunately his black and tan terrier, Hamish needed to be put down to sleep the other day, the peer wee doggie was in awful pain from a very aggressive skin cancer. We’ve nae seen Harvey for three days, since he took Hamish to the Vet on his Moped. He was most upset, but he will be back once he is ready to face the world again. . . He just needs space and time.”

Mrs Stewart sniffled as her eyes began weeping, then continued,

 “Harvey’s father offered to shoot the peer wee thing; he said it was too cruel to keep him alive any longer. He had a good life; he just turned 16 in human years or 112 dog years. We knew what had to be done, and so did Harvey, it was his job and his duty.” Miss Spencer gasped in horror, and gave Mrs Stewart a big hug.

Several days earlier, when Harvey lifted Hamish up to give him his favourite tummy rub, his mate yelped uncontrollably.

“Its ok old fella, I understand you are unable to bear this life any longer; it won’t be long now and you will be free from pain forever.”

Harvey wrapped Hamish up in his favourite tartan rug, and then placed him carefully in the cane basket of his moped scooter.

“Sorry mate, no car today, Dad won’t take us. He reckons bullets are cheaper than fuel or Vet’s fees. Instead you’ll enjoy the scenery from your very own cane passenger seat on my stylish red Moped.”

 As he was filling the scooter’s tank with fuel, Hamish turned his head towards him. The scrawny canine looked at him with heartbreaking eyes; cloudy cataracts surrounded his pupils. Grey tipped fur began quivering from nervous expectation, it was as if he knew what was about to happen. Harvey gave his mate a gentle rub, covered his shaking head with the blanket, and then ran sobbing into his mother’s arms.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back Mum!” Mrs Stewart gave her boy a big hug and kiss on the forehead.

“That’s quite ok laddie. I understand your pain; take your time, say your farewells and please take care riding your scooter!”

The bumpy drive was one of the longest, most painful trips Harvey had been on, it felt like a death row walk to the Gallows with a prisoner, straightjacketed and blindfolded.

Enormous skin cancers on his paws and chest crippled his old mate. Unable to say a last farewell to his Master, Hamish needed only his eyes and soft whimper to show his devotion and loyalty. Harvey could only imagine what his mate might be saying….

“Goodbye and thank you Master, for the memories, the good times, the love, the treats and years of fun and games.”

Harvey’s thoughts and recollections of life ran wild in his mind, as he struggled to keep his scooter on the verge of the road.

“What must it be like when you have no concept of death? On the other hand, maybe dogs do? Perhaps you just expect to get well! As humans, can we bear the pain, or do we sacrifice dignity and lucid clarity by taking powerful painkillers? Understanding death does not make your final hours easier. Do dogs go to Heaven? Will I ever see you again? There are too many unanswered questions, I pray for your pain to pass quickly!”

Following an agonizing, bumpy forty-minute ride to Keither Creek Veterinary clinic, the Veterinarian, Bruce, met them at the door.

“Hello Hamish” he said in a deep but calm voice;

The tall grey-haired man lifted Hamish out of the Moped’s basket. Hamish yelped, snapped and then growled as he lunged back into Harvey’s arms. Immediately Harvey cradled his best mate against his chest, fondly rubbing behind his ear.

“It’s all ok…its ok! Be brave, your next adventure is ready. We will catch up later, but for now you must go my dear old friend!”  

After a brief parting hug and a final ear rub, the Vet lifted him carefully into his arms. This time it was without a sound. Bruce turned around and walked away from Harvey and through the stainless steel swinging doors towards the operating table for Hamish’s lethal injection. It was an unbearable afternoon for Harvey, conceding it was the worst day of his life! Only the invoice for $75.00 broke his concentration and grief shortly, as he walked out of the clinic with a crushed invoice in his fist. He took his scooter, running alongside with his teeth clenched; before jumping on and letting go of the clutch handle. With a puff of smoke barrelling out of the exhaust, Harvey rode off towards his the national park, for peace and solitude. Losing his best friend seemed to bring back a lifetime of fond memories. Emotions were like a Roller coaster, from an intense state of chaotic anger to deep sadness. As soon as he reached the park boundary fence, he threw the scooter against the netting wire. It bounced back onto his foot.

“Bugger, shit and damn it!” He wandered for hours, not aware of his location, kicking, stomping and throwing stones. Exhausted, he stopped, looked up at the clouds and yelled at the top of his lungs,

“Why have you taken my best friend?”

Eventually calming down, he wiped his tears from his stinging eyes, and slumped down under an old gum tree thinking about his old terrier mate and staring at a photograph showing a spritely pup. The picture portrayed a gentle and playful Terrier who often made Harvey giggle. He started talking to himself about that trip, and that horrible memory . . . The longest ride of his life.


The longest ride


Sorry dear friend now is your time to go.

Never have I felt this sad, nor so very low.


A furry gift to me you were, upon my first birthday,

a puppy black and tan; on my lap you liked to play.


A terminal discovery, disguised by a wagging tail,

full of love for everyone, devotion never failed.


Sixteen human years of forever-faithful love,

now is time to find a new doghouse up above.


Remember chasing rabbits, for more than half a day,

or snapping at a Bumblebee to keep them far away.


Leftovers surprisingly, were gourmet food for you,

under the stars, you often ate our fourth-day stew.


You raced against my Repco, I peddled oh so hard,

Hamish often chased me, from my own backyard.


Buddies, best mates, and my dearest friend,

this cancer you fought, until the very end.


Now as you sit low in the passenger’s seat,

a trip to the Vets, in such terrible heat!


Tears are blurring my vision, as I ride away;

a whimper; you know what is going down today!


For forty kilometres, man’s best friend would stare;

the saddest and longest ride of my life anywhere.



For the rest of the term Miss Spencer spent some of her spare time trying to lift the spirit of a dejected student, Harvey appeared to have lost much of his creative passion since Hamish died. Miss Spencer persisted, trying to focus on Harvey improving his writing and self-confidence. This attention became too obvious and was often highlighted by fellow classmates. Some began teasing Harvey again, calling him ‘The teacher’s pet’ and Jan’s toy boy. Regardless Miss Spencer and Harvey regularly met at the library every other day. Patiently, she encouraged him with his writing, punctuation and grammar. However, one area that Harvey would need little assistance with was the creative content.

Sometimes Mr Mardell would be there talking to Miss Spencer. Most days Harvey would be soaking up pearls of wisdom from the great philosopher’s books, and then writing down his own interpretations and thoughts.

One sunny day in the library, Miss Spencer noticed Harvey’s confidence growing as he began conversing with staff and students with unprecedented enthusiasm.

“Harvey I’m so pleased that you appear more self-confident and well spirited, what has changed you and why?” There was a long pause, as he pondered over the question; several seconds later, Miss Spencer tapped Harvey’s hand and asked,

“Harvey, what were you thinking?”

Harvey turned and whispered in the direction of Miss Spencer’s petite and beautifully shaped ear.

 “I have discovered what restricts most of us from finding peace; it is simply all in our minds. Since Hamish died, I have thought about what is really important and I believe that I have learnt how to mind my mind.” Harvey opened his journal to a recently written poem to show Miss Spencer what he meant …



Mind your mind


Conscious fills with memories,

of such great deeds, I dared to do;

courageous thoughts are just a tease,

before anxiety strikes, right on cue.

Self-confidence is like a seed,

just waiting for the heavy rain;

brainwaves lay patiently in need,

for adrenalin to ease the pain.

When I aim to set goals higher,

I let the anguish of this thought remain,

for bad memories of failures prior,

will haunt me more than once again.

What I need to say, and what I think,

seems contradictory and unreal.

My thoughts and words are not in sync,

so what, that’s no big deal!

To speak out boldly, in front of people,

is to go where many I know will not.

Public speaking is like climbing a steeple,

you know when you’ve reached the top.

Self-confidence is fodder food,

for fear to gorge off all day.

If thoughtful words are never rude,

your worst fears will fade away.

Doubt can be your enemy,

inner voice you dread to hear.

Listen not to words of doubt;

they follow you everywhere!

Instead be confidant when speaking;

care less of what others think!

Your courage will keep on creeping,

once you erase those words that stink!

If your speech is filled with misery,

then phrases will hurt all other ears.

Be sure, the answer must lie internally,

it’s your heart, which touches your peers.

Your thoughts thrive on your creativity,

words are life through your own eyes.

Forget what others say instinctively,

for the shallow can only speak lies.




Harvey looked up at Miss Spencer; her eyes were boggled in astonishment. “Are you ok Miss?” He asked.

“I am more than ok, thank you! . . . I think you should be the teacher not me.” Harvey shook his head sideways and rolled his eyes back.

As he did so, a bright light captured his attention, streaming over the top of her shoulder. Again, he was not concentrating on their conversation; instead drawn curiously towards the rays of coloured light glistening through the window. His eyes refocussed on the symmetry and triangular patterns of the ornate Victorian era, lead light windowpane.  

“What are you looking at?” she asked. 

“The wonders of that triangular pane, Miss; see that window?” as he pointed to a north facing leadlight window, with rays of midday sun cascading into the building illuminating the polished Baltic pine Library floor. It was not the shimmering colours, deflecting through the leadlight, which caught his eye initially; nor was it the prisms of colour splashing over the floorboards. Instead, it was simply a triangular windowpane, that captured his attention. Miss Spencer tapped him on the shoulder and asked,

“Harvey! What, were you thinking?”

“Err sorry Miss, I was thinking about that triangular pane!”

“But why that? It seems such an insignificant object, compared to the illumination and array of coloured light. Perhaps you could express your thoughts on this triangular windowpane?”

 After a short moment of reflection, Harvey spoke slowly and deliberately, as Jan recorded his impressions of the triangle.


Triangulating the world


“Please do not underestimate the triangle; even though it hides humbly in the shadow of its bigger brother the Square. What could the original designer have been thinking when once this tri-sided drawing was simply the connection of three straight lines on a page? Could the architect ever have imagined that the power of this shapely frame would not only accompany the time-honoured square but would conquer it and create a myriad of complex angular formulae?

A square you see has equal sides therefore it differs only by the percentage taken away from or added onto the original square. Larger or smaller, it retains its original boring persona, proportions and dull characteristics. It certainly requires an unequal dimension in which to become a powerful part of society.

As a Box, the square is the mother of shame; designed to hide away life’s sins and evil, concealing the effluent of an affluent society. The box is a symbol of greed and waste. A box merely contains, but a triangle exclaims!

Put simply; a one dimensional square can be replaced by two symmetrical triangles with remarkably three times the strength.

Boring and simple is our square, becoming a mere predecessor for the mighty triangle to build its empire.

The majestic triangle has no limitation to the metamorphic offspring that have resulted like the obscurity of Isosceles, the perfection of Equilateral, the incredible strength of Symmetrical or the popular functionality of the Right angle triangle. There are no rules, nor exact lengths, no boundaries or in some cases no reason for an individual tri-creation.

Many explored the trigonometric functions that created sine, cosine, tangent, cosecant, secant and cotangent.

The once simple but diverse triangle was accelerating at a speed no one could ever predict.

Its usefulness has an apex so high and obscure it became overwhelmingly unpredictable.

Pythagoras was mystified, intrigued and hypnotised by the power of the triangle, his formulae popularised the once proud triangle into a creative masterpiece. “A” squared, plus “B” squared, equals “C” square. The three, four, five triangles all gave new fodder to mathematicians, architects and craftspeople all over the world and in no time the tallest buildings, the longest strongest bridges and creative works of excellence had been Tritapaulted into our every existence.

The beautiful Eiffel tower would be without the style, grace and faultless structural integrity if not for the versatile powers of this impressive shape. The mighty Pyramids would have disappeared centuries ago if they were of a box construction; therefore, their every existence is nothing without triangles.

Imagine a world without tricycles or no triangular series or triathlons. Imagine our homes without triangular trusses in the rooves. Just Tri to imagine!

. . .  We need the triangle, so that life is not so square!”



Miss Spencer sat in awe. How could someone look at the world so differently? His obscure observations, phrases and impromptu philosophy took her completely by surprise.  

“You continue to surprise me Harvey; I shall never disregard nor take for granted the flawless triangle ever again. Perhaps I need to look at the world more often through eyes like yours, then I too may appreciate the things we often take for granted.”

“Thankyou Miss Spencer, as usual, you are too kind. I do agree we take far too much for granted.” Harvey once more looked up at the windowpane, smiled and then continued,


We see only what we take for granted.

Blame not our eyes, through which we view this world; as that makes no difference to what we see. Instead, focus on what we should look for, throughout all eternity. Open up your inner eyes, to a world behind things we take for granted; only then will you find a secret, which someone else may have planted.



Over the next few weeks, Miss Spencer often spoke to Rodney Mardell about Harvey. She knew that he was the only other teacher who appreciated Harvey’s unique disposition. Rodney spoke enthusiastically of a voluntary project they had been working on at the school.

“Harvey recently offered to repair broken swings and climbing rails that were either weather beaten or rusted through lack of maintenance. Instead of repairing, he transformed the equipment into a maze of extraordinary mind bending pieces of sculpture.”

“It’s truly incredible Jan,” he said, pausing to look into her eyes.

“For weeks he spent much of his spare time collecting scrap steel and other materials, then shaping what is now the most talked about playground equipment in Illawonga.”

Again, Rodney paused, giving Miss Spencer a chance to add,

“I have also heard that enrolments are up due to the new playground equipment. You must be very proud of him?”

“I am indeed,” exclaimed Rodney. “At first I was extremely concerned, since my materials budget for the whole year was spent in one single term, but then I witnessed his workmanship together with his passion and finally his artistic sculptures evolved before my very eyes. Fortunately it was easy to convince the School Council to budget for more project money.”

Rodney paused for a long breath, not noticing that all this time he was holding Jan’s hand.  Feeling a little bit embarrassed, Rodney continued with a slightly camouflaged but affectionate smile, equalled only by that of Jan’s. “And err. . . Harvey’s ability to comprehend complex sculpture-like playground equipment is beyond my comprehension.”

A long silence from a mesmerised Jan seemed an eternity, as her hazy-eyed look seemed to pierce directly into Rodney’s blue eyes.

Rodney was still holding her hand. At the same time, they both realised that there was a strong attraction towards the other, but still they were too embarrassed to admit it. It mattered not, as both knew how they felt about the other.

“Jan, I have an idea; why don’t you take a look at the new playground equipment.”

“I would love you to accompany me!” Then like two young school lovers, they raced off towards the playground holding hands.

Laughing and giggling, they chatted about their one common denominator, Harvey, who had brought them together. Neither of them noticed a watchful eye through an open louver window of a classroom corridor. Intrigued with studying their obvious affection for each other, Harvey whispered to himself,

“Finally they are going to forge a relationship; this is a fine moment for Synchronicity.” Feeling like Cupid, he watched every move, every gesture, and every smile with each step they took. He grew increasingly excited for these new lovers; they were finally becoming a pair. Rodney and Jan both sat on the new tandem train carriage that Harvey had built for the playground. They moved closer to each other, as Rodney pulled a lever to start the Carriage of Dreams on its journey; slowly it began rolling and gathering momentum. The carriage was like a spaceship, beautifully crafted from painted sheet metal and red gum timber, featuring exquisite carvings on the sides of both timber doors. As the Carriage of Dreams slowly travelled along the tracks, in between the playground equipment, he could see their eyes lighting up with playful excitement. There were no motors or gears, just pedal power to assist them up the long slope before gently gliding down through the long dark tunnel of romance. Harvey waited and waited, but could not see them come out the other side. He became concerned; maybe the carriage had broken down. Were they hurt? He began to panic, as he sprinted around to the other end near the exit. It was dark and quiet, slowly he crept inside the tunnel eventually noticing a silhouette of Rodney and Miss Spencer, they were kissing and embracing each other. Harvey giggled as he thought to himself,

“It worked! That’s another tick for the power of suggestion.”

He had brought both of these lonely lovers together. At that very moment, Rodney and Jan heard a noise, which startled them. They looked up simultaneously, only to see a pair of white eyes in the dark. Both screamed at the top of their voices,

“Help! . . . Help! . . .  Someone please help us,” screamed Rodney.

“Hello lovebirds. . . It is just me! . . .   Err, sorry to interrupt but sex education classes don’t start until next term!” Harvey smugly exclaimed. There was a long pause of silence, and then all three burst into echoing laughter. The joyous noise reverberated throughout the tunnel, until they all realised where they were and quickly vacated the darkness hoping no one had heard them.

The next day Rodney approached Harvey and asked him not to mention their secret rendezvous in the tunnel.

“We mustn’t tell anyone what happened yesterday at the playground; otherwise Miss Spencer or I may be sent away to another school. This sort of behaviour between teachers is frowned upon by the School Council and the Principle.”

“Don’t worry Mr Mardell, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you Harvey, and thankyou for bringing Miss Spencer and I together. We will always have you to thank for our wonderful relationship.”

“It’s my pleasure. Anything else I can do to help?”

 “Well there is one thing,” said Rodney,

“It will soon be Valentine’s Day, but I can’t wait that long. I desperately want to write something for Miss Spencer but I don’t have a clue about writing poems of passion or love. Could you maybe help me with some ideas please?”

“Sure, I would be happy to; is it about anything in particular or just a sexy and sultry poem, Mr Mardell?”

“No! It’s just the usual romantic Valentine’s day moments, candle lit dinners and roses, etc.” Harvey nodded with a smirk, and then he pulled out his notebook and started to write a poem….



Valentines Forever


What is a Valentine per say,

on this, the chosen of the days?

A dozen roses, all blood red,

or simply holding hands in bed!                                 


A tender kiss and a hug for you,

a romantic dinner just for two.

Candles lit, the wine has aired,

you and I, sublimely paired.


Why only today? And not always;

well, commercially, it never pays!

A day designed not for all eternity,

just flings, romance and uncertainty.


But wait! There is so much more,

in my heart, it is you I adore!

I feel that we have wasted time,

Please, be my darling Valentine.


And if for just this day of days,

I show not my love in any ways;

fear not as you are forever mine,

eternally, my gorgeous valentine.



 “Harvey Valentino Stewart! You are quite the romantic. Thank you for putting into words what I could never say to Miss Spencer’s face.”

“That’s ok, it’s the least I could do to assist you, Sir. Anytime I can help you and Miss Spencer, it will always be my pleasure; besides you have both been the kindest teachers I have ever had! Thank you for making this year a truly memorable and enjoyable one.”

Mr Mardell shook Harvey’s hand. No one had ever shaken his hand before. It filled him with pride, knowing he was able to help a couple grow into a union, in a synchronistic kind of way, of course.

Later that same afternoon as the sun was setting, Miss Spencer came running up to Harvey,  

“Hi Harvey; I have just received the most beautiful Valentine’s poem from Rodney Mardell. I really want to write him something similar in return but I cannot think of what to say, besides I get so nervous just thinking about him. Can you please help me Harvey?”

“It would be my pleasure, Miss Spencer,” giggled Harvey, who could hardly contain his delight and laughter at the coincidence. Again, he went to pull out his journal from his backpack, but this time he stopped and asked Miss Spencer,

“When you think of Rodney, what do you feel in your heart?”

“I feel blessed that he has come into my life. I know he has had many difficulties like I have, but together we are stronger and together we can overcome fears and obstacles to conquer anything that may be thrown in front of us.” Harvey smiled and nodded.

“I will write for you, your own words, which will come from your heart for Rodney’s ears and not mine; but just remember,”


“Borrowed prose will not suppose, the recipient feel’s your tears. No author’s words are as profound, as yours which touch their ears.”


Jan nodded in agreement, as Harvey took out his leather bound journal, which his mother gave him, then his striped red and black HB pencil, his whittling knife to sharpen it and his small eraser. He began writing slowly and deliberately, thinking first for a moment before writing, just as Jan, his teacher, now mentor, had taught him. He would write a phrase, think for a few seconds, and then continue writing. Seldom would he need to stop to erase a mistake; he simply transferred the pictures in his mind and his thoughts onto paper. Slowly the poem took shape, with his teacher nervously looking over his shoulder.



May your heart be next to mine?


I hope that all our dreams come true,

prayers, best wishes and good health too.


Let every day bring joy to your heart,

true love keeps us from falling apart.


May your smile multiply and grow each day,

let your hurt and pain simply vanish away.


May the clouds that hang low, over your head,

precipitate silver linings, on your life instead.


My adoration will blossom throughout this year,

so promote our love, and celebrate with cheer.


May your heart be next to mine, and beat ever stronger,

whilst your smile meets my eyes, and lingers ever longer.


Thank you for your prayers, your hugs and kisses too,

happy is to share, the rest of my lifetime just with you.



When he finished, he tore the page out of his journal and gave it to his dear friend. Brimming with excitement, she whispered,

“Thank you, thank you, and thank you again!”

Miss Spencer ran off to rewrite Harvey’s poem in her own handwriting for Rodney. Nothing pleased Harvey more than to help two kind but somewhat insecure people find love and happiness. He believed they were a perfect match for each other. Especially since finding out they shared the same birthday. He found great satisfaction once he realised this was a synchronistic relationship, formed by an accidental union between two very separate people; to create a complete and most unexpected bond. Simultaneously Jan and Rodney had coincidentally formed a bond with each other through Harvey. It was a very exciting discovery. Harvey’s first instinct was not to act as cupid, but to assist someone he recognised as having personal challenges. After all, there was no person more experienced than Harvey when it came to experiencing personal hardship and overcoming those hurdles.

Later that week after school, Harvey noticed Miss Spencer sitting in her car, glancing awkwardly at herself in the rear vision mirror. He watched as she tentatively kept looking at herself, trying to fix her hair then turning away, checking her makeup, then shaking her head. Harvey tried to summarise the situation,

“It’s some sort of internal conflict that seems to be taking place between her anxieties and her ego.”

Harvey could see Miss Spencer was embarrassed to look at herself.

“Such a conundrum” He thought to himself,

“Here’s a pretty woman, who desperately wants to impress her man, but is less than confident about her reflection in the mirror.”

Harvey walked over to an oblivious Miss Spencer and tapped on the window. Startled, Miss Spencer jumped backwards in her car seat, flinging her beautiful blond curls into a tangle on the front of her face. “Harvey Stewart! Look what you have done!”

Grumbling, she opened the car door to let Harvey in.

“Quick, sit down, sit down! What on earth were you thinking Stewart?” Miss Spencer tried desperately to fix her catapulted hair and smeared makeup.

“I am very sorry Miss Jan Spencer,” said Harvey, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“That’s ok, but I am in such a rush and a mess Harvey! I hoped to look my very best, so I would impress Rodney at the school staff meeting this evening!”

“You will always be a good looker to me, no matter what hairdo you create, or how you look at yourself. . . Miss Spencer, please tell me, what do you see in that mirror?” He curiously asked.

“What do you mean?” she replied in a frustrated manner.


Do you look for imperfections?


 “When you look deep in a mirror, do you see yourself, or an illusion you want others to view? Many a person, upon reflection, will perceive this concept to be somewhat askew!

Is it really you in the mirror, or just a vain image perceived only by thee? Forever searching for imperfections, and then prescribing concoctions to make the flaws flee!

How others view your persona, is part of life’s elusive clue, for their eyes only, will interpret, what they believe to be true!” 



 “Harvey Stewart you amaze me!” Miss Spencer pulled down the passenger side visor to expose a vanity mirror for her unexpected passenger. “Ok Guru Stewart, now; what do you see?”

Harvey looked for a moment into the small mirror, and then he turned his attention back to her mirror and smiled.

“I see a reflection of our lives”



Reflection of our lives


Such beauty shines from your heart for me,

is it you in the mirror, or my image set free?


Do mirrors reveal beauty, or is it found in the frame?

Is what I perceive in it vanity, or could it be shame?


So then how can I tell what a mirror looks like?

For it reflects not itself, but I through my sight.


Perhaps mirrors show us, just what we want to see,

not itself in all its glory, but bold reflections of glee.


Is this me or just another face, to those who dare perceive?

Who can I trust, the mirrored image, or a thought I leave.


Does it light up our skin, or search deep in our soul?

Burning tissues in our heart, it reflects the heavy toll.


Pretty girls with shining curls, bearing smiles to stop a nation,

magnetically drawn to every mirror; in search of jubilation.


I believe mirrors attract great beauty from deep within,

repelling mostly ugliness…..Is that such a terrible sin?


We are scared of its dark side, for fear of bad luck,

desiring transformations, or our youth to be stuck.


A mirror’s lasting impression, shall never be revealed,

reflections never differ, as the mystery remains sealed.


No matter our view, there is one thing to be assured,

our eternal hunger for mirrors shall never be cured.



Jan appeared captivated by those words; she stared at Harvey in amazement, and with a simple nod of her head whispered,

“I think I’m ready to go now.”  Harvey smiled and nodded back,

Jan got out of the car somewhat mesmerised and proceeded to walk directly to Rodney’s office without once looking back.


Later that night Harvey meandered home from school, thinking about reflections, when all of a sudden he felt a tap on his left shoulder. He jumped and yelped, simultaneously; startled from his daydream. A voice stirred his fear,

“What, were you thinking Harvey Stewart?”

Immediately, Harvey turned around; suddenly he became paralysed by beauty, she was slender, with shimmering dark brown wavy hair. Suddenly he recognised her, or did he?

“You’re that girl who sits in the back of the class! Aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I do happen to be your neighbour for the last 7 years silly! My name is Rose.”

Harvey could not believe his eyes or ears; the girl next door had grown into a gorgeous young woman and she was talking to him!

“I need a favour, Harvey. My little sister, Charlotte Jane, has a problem with the Tooth Fairy and needs a written reply to her letter. When I showed Charlotte’s letter to Miss Spencer, she thought I should talk to you. I don’t know why! Maybe she thinks you’re off with the fairies too. Ha Ha.” Harvey frowned with annoyance and disappointment.

He knew there had to be a catch, for her to be speaking with him. Rose showed Harvey the letter, and once he had read it, she continued.

“Do you see my dilemma? Charlotte Jane is only four, and I can’t think of what to say or write to her, without destroying her belief.”

“Leave it to me, my new Rose from next door; a letter from the Tooth Fairy will be delivered to your door!”

Rose handed Harvey the envelope and writing paper,

“Thanks Neighbour, I’ll see you later.” Rose walked off leaving Harvey analysing the letter. Before writing a reply for Rose, he sat down in the bus shelter, thinking of her and reading the note.



A coin under your pillow


Dear precious child; let me present to you the truth,

for gracing me with questions, about a fallen tooth…


Worried not was I, about your literary call,

my wings have flown far, and I have read it all.


Thousands of first teeth, we must collect each day,

many Molars under pillows and Babies on a tray.


A Tooth Fairy like me has the best job of all,

as councils kindly, provide me money on a pole.


Inside a parking meter, I find local currency,

coins, save me carting cash, over land or sea.


In the morn will be reward, if directions you will follow,

a golden coin to replace a tooth, under your soft pillow.


Perhaps to save you pondering, I promise its not scary;

your tooth will be collected, by me the nice Tooth Fairy.




Harvey thought there needed to be further supporting evidence for Charlotte Jane, (and to impress Rose), so he created the Tooth fairies creed.



The Tooth Fairies creed


A call goes out within the hour,

to all Fairies on the fly;

a child has lost a baby tooth,

alarm sounded from her cry.


Late that night I fly quietly,

straight underneath your door;

kiss your cheek; bless your gums,

to protect you ever more.


Your precious tooth now lifted,

securely strapped onto my back;

Then a shiny coin I present,

from within my treasure sack.


When you wake tomorrow morn,

You will find that golden coin,

it’s not your parent, who placed it,

it was I, a Fairy born.


If you should wake to hear the wings,

of an annoying mozzie,

be careful it may well be me,

dressed up in my new cozzie.


A Tooth Fairy looks so splendid,

in sparkling eveningwear;

matching both my golden wings,

that shimmer through the air.


You may well ask; what of my wand?

Well it spreads love just everywhere,

so that Fairy glitter or golden rainbows,

can sparkle throughout your hair.


If an adult enquires - re my role,

it’s a secret for you and me to keep!

But there is one thing left to tell,

what we do with your tiny teeth?


For when you next look up into,

the darkest space in our night sky,

from your baby tooth is born a star;

shining bright and oh so high.


Next time a tooth drops out,

I can tell you without a lie,

Remember, I am not far away;

so there is never need to cry.




When Harvey got home, he placed a two-dollar gold coin inside the envelope with both poems and sealed it with bees wax. He then inlaid the golden wings of a Bumble Bee from his Entomology cabinet collection into the wax. It was simply addressed, “Attn. Miss CJ.” Then Harvey crept over to Rose’s place and slipped the envelope under the door, quickly and quietly walked off to school. The following day, just as the school bell sounded, Rose ran up to Harvey as they entered their classroom and gave him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, much to the surprise of the other students.

“It worked! Charlotte Jane once again believes they are real!”

“What’s real?” replied Harvey.

“Fairies, of course!” replied a puzzled Rose.

“I didn’t do anything! It really must have been the Tooth Fairies!” Rose paused for a moment, frowning, before her eyes lit up.

“You nearly had me there for a minute Harvey; thank you so much. Miss Spencer was right; you are a very unique poet.”

Harvey humbly smiled and walked off to his seat, sat down, then looking forward, noticed a beaming Miss Spencer, trying not to look at him, but with a wink of her eye and a smirk, she simply acknowledged his kind deed. Harvey was feeling rather proud of himself; thinking,

“It feels quite nice writing poems to make others feel better, especially for the very cute Rose next door,”


Continued: Find chapter 5

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Ch. 13 - Dark shadows disappear

January 12, 2019

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