Creative

  • Drawing

    Every spare moment I have is spent drawing. It is an obsession. An itch that will not go away, no matter how vigorously I scratch it. It is all a great mystery, this creative road I travel. Art has been… Continue reading

  • Pure Bliss

    It is a softness that becomes me, and I am gone. Lately I am understanding more and more about this mysterious creative force that takes me, and yet, truly, I understand nothing. I know it uses me in ways I… Continue reading

  • The Unfortunate Story of A Large Dog.

    The German Shepherd changed things. She considered revenge, but then, he had always nurtured a sick fantasy of being mistreated by women. How inconvenient life could be at times. Still. He had known she would only consider small dogs, and… Continue reading

  • The Orange Light. Micro Fiction.

    Burnt orange light feels safe. Pop’s old library is full of it; lamp dappled walls, beautiful to look at, even more beautiful to feel. How do you describe a feeling? You can only feel, and open up so others can… Continue reading

  • A Poet

    Of all the labels I reject ‘a poet’ is the one golden cage ringing true to my soul. It holds my heart, this stamp that tells me- not who I am, but what I do in the world and how… Continue reading

  • Creativity Rises

    I intend to write one thing and another is born. Creativity rises. It controls me, not the other way around. The poem I’ve just written began with a feeling of being stuck. Stuck in COVID lockdown. Stuck in a middle… Continue reading

  • Wherever I May Go

    Life and her currents. I feel them like tears in my bones. And all I can do is let the river run, let the stream carry me wherever I may go. Through the high clouds of white. Through the deep… 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

  • Some Days I Fall

    Some days I fall. I’m not a good mum. I’m not a good human. I’m not a good me, on those days I fall. It’s not a consolation to know that I do not fall alone. That humanity itself is… Continue reading

  • Unlimited

    I feel the way I feel because I feel the way I feel. Because I am soft and gentle, because I am wild as the rain and free as the sky. But I am not free, not really, not in… Continue reading