Archives for category: Poetry

Slept in after a night of typing,

out at lunchtime with a good friend,

new acquisitions to broaden my library,

who doesn’t love grabbing  bargain,

and searching the shelves to find,

a brilliant gem in all the trash,

wedges and ice coffee in a rustic cafe,

we talk about doing this everyday,

the start of summer opening up new possibilities,

like I had forgotten the benefits,

of a touch of sun and warmth,

brace yourself, organise yourself,

I know we’ll go far.



change happens,

the light it lasts now,

but i cant take it,

i need jumpers and scarves,

working late,

i miss you,

i’m alone,

in these rainclouds,

i’ve developed for myself,

contradiction and hypocrisy,

i want the sun to come out,

but thats my natural way.



She waits, she fidgets, where is the adventure she anticipated?

Oh yes, it has been chased away by men and loud noises, that pull her consciousness back to reality,

But still, in this moment her thoughts linger and dwell, on all the creatures that live in these trees and under this floor of grasses and shrubs,

Torn between and fading into a background of burnt bark and running way, getting lost, being alone.




Walking the street where you once worked,

I’m reminded of you,

There is the shop you bought a present for me,

You’re on my mind,

A black fluffy cat just like yours scampers past,

Again it’s you,

A lawn just mowed I know you like the smell,

You’re all around me.

This grey carpet,

this grey scarf,

you could be the same,

melting and sewing together,

cream walls,

sinking into the lino,

blinds growing,

out of blue cupboards.


the fog rolls in,

over our slumber,

my breath revealing,

its ephemeral form to me,

pages turn blank,

blue sky emerges,

but this chill is still present,

inside our tiny abode,

because of the misfortunate,

broken down heater.


You were the Pink Ranger,

Bright Eyes,

Fresh smirk,

The outbreak of new adoration,

The purrs of passing adolesence,

New whiskers,

A sharp reflection,

I’m flushed pink like a tea rose,

Not ashamed of your thin legs,

Chewing gum,

Another generation,

I’ve travelled so far from when I knew you.



You broke my heart,

Upon your stairs,

I lost my cares,

San Michel,

Where tears fell,

Champs Elysees

I faded away.


The thought of leaving,

Horrible! Unthinkable!

So comfy so cosy,

I’m not getting up for you,

Even if you are working,

And its obvious I am not,

Its the only time,

That I can be cruel,

Hogging and overtaking,

The only working lobby computer…



Sky that is pale,

Ink drawing,

Soft waves falling,

Empty bed,

Books waiting to be read.


In this stillness,

Slowly, vibrations,

Roots emerge,

From walls, doors, out of windows,

Creaking, rustling,

Branches creep in,

From all directions,

Leaves fill the room,

Until they incase me,

Like wooden arms,

Surrounding me.


Rising with pride, joy and contentness,

Nervous yet glad with anxious ambitions,

About all the things I wish to acheive,

Will I get where I want to be,

Learned and interesting with all kinds of anecdotes,

I will read all the greats and study all i can think of,

From old sailing ships to astrology,

The anatomy of the newt and the skeletal structure of a moose,

How tall california redwoods grow ,

And how many ants live in one colony,

Yes one day I will be educated and write great stories for all to read,

Alas I fear that this all too hopeful and not near,

To what reality will arrange for me.


grey socks with stockings,

her hair is all knotty,

a blue overcoat,

to hide away her figure,

sweet, poignant features,

and slender fingers,

her name is jackie,

about her i wonder,

with a voice high but droll,

she is charming and dainty,

shy and sorrowful,

making me ponder,

on memories of mysterious things,

beautiful and dreamy things,

things that are yet to happen,

she is always looking tired,

she is a doll,

she is jackie.


attic windows,

cars and dogs,

boys throwing stones,

tripping over logs,

the balcony door,

my bike in the rain,

stains on the floor,

a cobbled lane,

overgrown honeycomb,

too many bees,

a dark room,

an urge to climb trees,

big orange bins,

jumping puddles,

hot bitumen,

getting long cuddles,

sand in your toes,

traffic lights and fences,

surrounded by woes,

gum under benches,

oversized jackets,

dyeing hair,

noodles in packets,

moments to share.


On the second floor,

It’s not empty anymore,

Some people came,

And the flat became,

A home, a living space,

Not just a hollow case.


Across from me on the train,

Guess who was sitting there,

A lonely pistachio nut,

Abandoned by its owner,

Just waiting to be found,

And munched on by a new friend,

To someday fulfil his destiny,

But now this salty nut,

Is waiting patiently,

Watching the world pass by…