Poetry

  • Soul Song

    My soul knows this song. Continue reading

  • Call Me Shakespeare

    Oh! Has this truth been truly seen! But a glimpse into a floating sea of strange reality, but a knowing truer than true can be! Who is Shakespeare? That terrible, desperate soul, falling, falling, landing evermore in the stories of… Continue reading

  • Searching

    How deep is the sea that clutches and drags me to the muddy floor, within? How many days will I tumble into the swell of inner life unspoken, unwanted, unkind? Shall I stand here, now, battered and smiling, beside this… Continue reading

  • Tomorrow’s Rose

    How delicate it is, the garden of eternity. Interwoven; the past, present, future of our sleepy meadow, dear. One cannot possibly know how or what the wind of today will drift to the valley of tomorrow. One can only hope… Continue reading

  • Twinkling Silence

    Hush. Here in the silence that lingers between each star. Close your eyes, let the sweet velvet black hold you. And you will know (you will know) that this is all you need. The twinkling silence that is you. This… Continue reading

  • I Feel

    My heart is open and bare, laid out before the world again. Their pain is mine: I give it loving arms. I speak their truth. I burn with mine. They say these are words, but I know they are more.… Continue reading

  • Human Like You

    Do not ask me to hate the ‘broken’ ones. I am a broken one because I am human. You are too. You are too. Do not ask me to turn my soul inside out so I might fit into your… Continue reading

  • She Would

    If she could hold the world with all her heart. If she could soften the growls of the wildest of them, she would. Oh, she would. Oh, she would. Continue reading

  • Only And Always

    The wind cannot be caught. It cannot be moulded to perfection, scraped and gutted and made to be something other than what it is. The wind is only, and always, the wind. And you are only and always you. Flow… Continue reading

  • I See Me

    The soft girl whispers in my ear. I drift each cushion to the foot of the bed and carefully place it off to the side, as if it were made of precious, gold leaf. I peel back the doona; the… Continue reading