A poem is the grace of the heart and mind as one, the speaking of the soul, the articulation of longing.

You can be the captain of your soul, merrily drink the wine and run for freedom, down to a sunless sea.

But only the poem that you do not speak - ah, there is the magic of your life. Not what you have spoken, but that which you have breathed, have bled and died for, that which you have chosen life for. 

From spectacle to symbolism,
When the turning leaf is the fall of time,
The fragile petal is the fragility of life,
The glint of light in the eye is the fire of the human spirit;

We elevate through understanding,
We emote through sensation,
We translate through reflection;
We live in art to let the metaphor blow our minds..... 

Rain

Stillness. 
Such maddening, stifling stillness.
A silence that hushes the world like a blanket.
The birds and insects quieted in daylight, 
A thickness of the atmosphere that dulls
Even the whispers of the trees. 

And then......
Roaring, 
A wind the breath of a hundred demons,
An exhalation of victory and triumph,
A thunderous fanfare of the spirits of air;

And it started to rain.

Be Here Now

Be here now. Live it. Feel it. Be it. 

Because it too shall pass and this time won't come again. 

Every hill is a foothold to a mountain. Every storm is a prelude to a sunny day. Every heartbreak is an introduction to the strength of your soul. 

Every note needs to be followed by another to make music. 

Awakening

For years, she slept. Her petals curled tightly around her, a silent velvet cocoon that held her close inside, softened by shadows, muted by silence. 

And then the rains came, unrelenting. Tears fell from the sky to stain her cloak, soak her skin. Until she could stand no more. 

And she began to unfurl.... 

It Begins Like A Dream

It begins like a dream, 

Something vague, subtle, quiet,

A thought, just a thought, 

Turning round on itself

Growing in power

Chanted in the echoing chambers

Of the mind, 

Until it is resonating, like a bell, 

Like a chorus of bells, 

Tolling over and over. 

Just a thought. 

Just a word. 

Just a name. 

In Dreams

And I lay down, to sleep, to dream, of icy rivers sunk in caverns so deep, the waters were black; of shadows that hovered in the rock, whispering my name as I drifted past; of soft, haunting cries that came from above, so high, so out of sight, I knew not what called.... and I dreamed, seemingly endlessly swept along in the cold, echoes and ghosts dogging my passage, like weary voices on the wind... 

Forged In Fire

Make me glass
So that when I break,
I shatter.
So that there are no pieces to pick up and put back together.
So that I may place myself in fire,
Melt me down, redesign me,
Return whole, polished and new,
Without cracks
Or lines of glue.

She Loves

She loves steel and glass, and worships trees.
She loves glossy magazines and handmade couture,
And wears black.
She loves dark stormy nights because they won't let her sleep.
She loves caravans when they're parked outside.
She loves tiny houses and wants to live in a warehouse.
She loves mirror balls and dance music,
and doesn't like neon.
She loves pop artists and post-modern expressionism,and is inspired by Michelangelo.
She loves men who thrive in their solitude, and own the crowd.
She loves women that don't make comparisons.
She loves passion and desire, and romance and laughter, and walks through life alone.
She loves the darkness because shadows have secrets.
She loves the light because she blinds herself.
She loves truth and beauty, the imagination and knowledge.
She loves childhood and innocence, because she has seen too much.
She loves fantasy because it explains reality.
She loves love, despises cruelty, and knows they travel hand in hand.
She adores nature, and lives in the city.
She loves silver, because it is beautiful, hard, made in darkness, and reflects the light.....

Rain

You, to me, are like rain in the night.

I want to lie awake just to hear the sound of your voice.

Fragments

You crave something pure. 

It doesn't matter what it is, just something pure. 

Whether it be creation, destruction, love, indifference, fear, peace, 

you wanted it to have purity. 

It drives you crazy, 

it lends itself to your brokenness. 

And when you can't find it, 

you think you're going insane. 

You think the world turns against you, 

that it is persecuting you, 

taking you away from real happiness, real fulfilment.  

Yet all it ever was, 

was your desire, 

your need, 

your endless ambition for something pure.

You are not broken. 

You are simply living in fragments.

Deeper Into Darkness

For the world separated its truth from its doing, and men were laid low as animals, desperately craving sustenance, but without satisfaction. 

And rather than wallow in darkness, I hurled myself deeper into its maw, far from the surface and the insanity of its light, as the preachers fed the masses with pretty tales and open wounds, and the glory of salvation in the embracing of their gluttony and urge. So twisted their desire for peace had become, it was only in the sating of their appetite and hunger for self-destruction.... 

Fragments

You crave something pure. It doesn't matter what it is, just something pure. Whether it be creation, destruction, love, indifference, fear, peace, you wanted it to have purity. It drives you crazy, it lends itself to your brokenness. 

And when you can't find it, you think you're going insane. You think the world turns against you, that it is persecuting you, taking you away from real happiness, real fulfilment.  

Yet all it ever was, was your desire, your need, your endless ambition for something pure.

You are not broken. You are simply living in fragments.

Storytime - The Wave

When I was sixteen, there was a cyclone warning for our region over a weekend - naturally the girly friends and I wanted to go to the beach. The beach is awesome during a storm. 

We got there in plenty of time before the cyclone - it was hours away - and the ocean was having a wonderful time, pulling back hard from the shore and crashing like a punk rocker on a Barry Manilow birthday party in the breakers. Awesome. 

My friends were a bit shy of the waves, so they stayed in the shallows, but I wanted to go body surfing - the action was kicking and I wanted a piece of it. So I left them there, made my way past the breakers and got into open waters. 

Wow. 

Small swells by any global measure - I was not in Hawaii after all, but I had never felt anything like it. The sheer force under the water, the ebb and tow - it was like being lifted in the hand of a giant. The sky was raging above, dark, ominous clouds rushing past, sprays of heavy rain, and here’s little teen me, sitting like a raisin in a cement mixer, howling at the wind. 

The waves were too chaotic for a good ride - I switched tactics and played under the water instead, riding the currents just below the surface, like a seal. It was so cool - turning over on my back, I could see the storm in the sky, through the racing water above me. 

I went to the surface for air, turned to the horizon to watch, and immediately got pummelled by an oncoming wave. The force pulled me right down again, and I hit the deck on my back. I was dragged along the sand for a few seconds, and as I turned over, I was hit by another force that flipped me over - I was somersaulting along the bottom, unable to get control back - and I was running out of air. 

I pushed out with my feet, causing enough drag to slow me down, and I couldn’t work out which way was up. I kicked out, and ended up hitting the deck again. Wrong way dummy. 

I flipped, pushed off from the ocean floor, and made it to the surface. To get smacked in the face by another wave. But after choking and spluttering for a bit, I got my air back, and kicked off towards shore. 

By the time I was in the shallows, my friends and a life saver were running out to get me; I had bleeding abrasions all along my back from getting dragged, and my swimsuit was half torn off from the force of the water. 

They got me up to the guard point, checked me over, checked my breathing, made me sit for a few minutes, and then pronounced me good to go. 

And I went back out there, into the storm,  and had a ball. 

There is ALWAYS going to be something out there bigger and meaner and tougher than you. It’s going to kick your ass, and show you that your life can be ripped away from you in seconds, take everything from you, and leave you lying on a shore, gasping like a guppy. 

And if you want something so bad that you don’t even care about that, you’ll go back and try again. And again. And again. 

Last Man Standing

When there is no one left, 

And you are the last man standing,

When the battlefield is littered 

With the dead.

When there is no one left to watch 

As the dying sun dips under

The horizon, 

And you are tormented by the silence;

Sing, as the moon rises. 

Rediscovered

I am new. Rediscovered. 

Found in your words, your sweet attentiveness - your lust for life. 

I am wild, soft, and so alive, in the arms of your thoughts, that stark, masculine poetry, the hours that you seek me, again and again... 

I am woman, mind, body and soul, gentled by your strength, and yet so savage in the dark of your need. 

For Only Me

It is always joy. 

I see his face and I am glowing, aching from not having smiled in joy for so long. 

For a time, I can be lost, naked, and burning, 

wrapped in the softness of his words; 

I am deaf to all else but the tenderness of 

that touch. 

A poem, made for me. 

Made for only me.

Time

It's like a dark corridor, no doors, no lights, 

and all you can hear is the sound of your own footsteps. 

Just the constant soft tread as you walk alone, 

down the same, long corridor. 

Over and over again, until it feels like you're walking on the spot. 

Nothing changes. Except you. 

A Girl and Her Guitar

Sometimes I think I went a little too far,

From everything that used to be      

A girl and her guitar;

Ridin' with the wind, a Little Wing,

A Highway Chile,

Just playing my way down 

The long and lonely mile,

And carrying nothing with me,

But my guitar, my heart and my smile.... 

In A Word

Soft simple words. 

As though the words that he used were to touch my skin, 

the same gentleness of his hands, his caress, his lips.. 

A slow-burning desire that, in moments, broke apart walls that had taken years to build....