Day Break

May 17, 2015 at 6:36 am (Poems) (, , )

and yet, without him
no joy to anticipate –
no welcoming kiss.

inspired by chevrefeille’s carpe diem

Permalink 8 Comments


May 16, 2015 at 2:07 pm (Poems) (, , , , )

We have this habit of defining

the nature of our beast

and an eye for definition

which may limit, or at least

prevent us from evolving

in a helpful sort of way

to keep up with our surroundings –

the environments at play.


There are countless endless junctures

at which our cells could switch

from those well-remembered patterns

to a stronger bolder stitch

but our stubborn prolongation

of the sequences we know

keeps us circling our shelter

even when the changed winds blow.

Permalink Leave a Comment

Double empathy

April 18, 2015 at 6:44 pm (Stories) (, , )

I glance, and how to be a man with powerful thighs,
attired in far too tight a neutral suit?
‘to be unsure of why he feels so sick
and all he wants to eat? An aging tin of fruit.

Attired in far too tight a neutral suit
I glance and stride aside of some small woman
who wheels a squeaking trolley near my feet
maneuvering our empathetic plan.

I glance and stride aside of some small woman
and guess she hurries home to aging cat.
Is she as sick as I, and why today?
And serve herself tinned fruit? I feel she might.

Permalink 4 Comments

For the Love of Jack

March 24, 2015 at 12:32 am (Poems) (, , , , , )

Remember our Jack, who picked up his beans
and walked away from those who sought
to exploit his fear and vulnerability?

Remember how he walked away
from agencies who smelt
an egg of gold?

Our Jack didn’t give a bean
for banks who showed no interest
for as long as he had –
Jack squat.

No, our Jack put his beans
in a medium sized hole
he dug with his own hands
in a good old river bank,
and his care for those beans
never altered.

Even when they laughed at him
and took his shoes
and told him he was trespassing
upon their mean old patch of land
his love light never faltered.

So our Jack sat down on his jacksy,
and watched his beanstalk fare,
and now our Jack’s beans are plenty
for all kind folk to share.

But for the love of Jack we’re hungry,
and the giants have their way,
But for the love of Jack we’re broken,
Take your beans and walk away.

Permalink 2 Comments


March 20, 2015 at 10:09 am (Poems) (, , , )

our rhythms interrupted:
awed melancholy.

Carp Diem

Permalink 6 Comments


March 18, 2015 at 8:38 pm (Poems) (, )

Cutting through bluster
with blades of utility:
poetic motion.

from a prompt at Carpe Diem Haiku Kai

Permalink 2 Comments


March 16, 2015 at 10:07 pm (Poems) (, , )

We are the lost girls,
the stars of tomorrow
in curlers, pyjamas,
with beans in our heads.

Up in the night time,
we laugh at reflections
and fight with green jelly,
abandoning beds.

We are obnoxious
and anxious and beautiful,
Gazelle like, Giselle like,
a glorious mess.

We head rebellion
to form a close union,
our souls crying out
to be tickled to death.

Permalink 1 Comment


March 12, 2015 at 6:59 pm (Poems) (, )

We race down river,
past crisp white tennis players:
two gloriously best friends,
eating oranges quartered
with a dangerous knife,
the juice squeezed
directly into our mouths.

Someone bakes potatoes
wrapped in tin foil
on a smoky open fire,
and we smell of charcoal,
fresh air and old perfume,
and wear broken dress jewellery
borrowed from our mothers.

Permalink 2 Comments


March 9, 2015 at 6:23 pm (Poems) (, , )

I search inside and find your ruddy face
fast ease away but feel you rise and stare
Reflections in the window take your place.

Now news is made of creased and ruined flesh
despoiling freedom, innocence consumed
I search inside and find your ruddy face.

In retro dreams you touch youth through a lens
and I oblige, a child plucked out of time
Reflections in the window take your place.

Those ten familiar fingers preen and groom
and worth is stitched up in a spangled dress
I search inside and find your ruddy face.

Now meet a woman stronger than your guile
so tiptoe not, but should she drop her guard
Reflections in the window take your place.

It’s something in the coat or of the eyes
Not you, but of an age – and one more time
I search inside and find your ruddy face
Reflections in the window take your place.

Permalink 3 Comments

Complaint Upcycling Facility

March 4, 2015 at 8:14 pm (Poems)

Municipal dump
for those pent up frustrations:
place your baggage here.

Permalink 5 Comments

Next page »


Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 455 other followers