Archives for posts with tag: Poetry

Hey there, it has been a while since I posted but since then I have made three new zines of both my drawing and writing!

I recently had a stall at the Melbourne Tonerpalooza zine fair (first of its name). It was terrifically fun and scary at the same time. I met a lot of other awesome and lovely zinemakers/buyers. There is also a post about it on the thousands where I’m briefly featured!

So here you go:


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Hello, just calling to say I have made a new A5 zine (very exciting!) and it is now for sale on my Etsy site. It contains recent drawings and illustrations of mine as well as a longer poem at the very end. There are 16 pages and it is bound with red cotton thread. There is a caption to go with each drawing which are generally about self-preservation or me personally and thoughts about some different aspects of life in a quirky manner. :) Also if you reside in Melbourne you can pick up a copy at Sticky Institute (lucky you!) and check out the other awesome zines they have there as well, no shipping required! I am very glad to have an outlet for all these drawings and ideas. Here are a coupe of preview images:

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I made this creation on a walk one morning and upon making it I thought it must have been my greatest creation ever. The problem was though, it would fall off if I brushed against something such as my hair. (It’s wierd to see my hands close up like this)… anyway I wanted to share a bit of creative writing that I have been doing lately.I’m not quite sure what it is for or where it is going but it’s here for people to read, and hopefully have something to say about it.

Sometimes the apartment creaked. This made her feel uneasy, as if she didn’t have enough reminders that she was alone. It was as though the walls proclaimed it to her in their dull ruptures or prolonged shrieks. Like anyone she kept herself busy with seemingly unimportant tasks yet they were justified by her own want of productivity. Amid these activities and the stop/starting of records were moments of wafting silence. At times she delighted and relished these, feeling satisfied by not having to interpret noises around her. Sometimes it distresses her, making her long for something anything to keep her from herself. She needs voices to distract her, so she puts on the radio or plays some music. Other times it made her rigid and by some unseen force made compelled to just sit at the table staring for long minutes at nothing in particular. Frozen in this sate her eyes float over things around her and out of the window, nothing melts her. Perhaps she isn’t even thinking at all, trying to pry thoughts out of the mass of blankness. She closes her eyes and the silence swallows her, she is enveloped by the endless possibilities the silence offers her.


A paradox which I cannot explain, just like the human brain.

I’m not trying to be anything I”m not. I’m not trying to be anything at all.

There’s a special moment when you hear the title of a song that only appears once because it’s not part of the chorus .

A crooked tooth in a perfect smile.

That content feeling of sitting on your bed eating leftover pizza.

I borrowed 7 books from the library today, its so exciting because it’s like they are free books. But alas I know I have to take them back soon…


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.




These are some drawing I did as part of my first semester assessment. I really loves rhymes and how they can create any visual image of scenario, I like to make humorous pictures. So these are also just ant exploration of the english language and the paralells within it.


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…


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…