seeking,
slicing,
selfies,
'ice-ing,'
The 'Golden Age' is gone.

weeping,
swiping,
exhibiting galore,
pricelessness pawned
for ****.

texting,
sexting,
'Brexiting'
'****'ing,
endlessly searching for that score.

The jungle was out there,
but now it is the norm.

Slow us
Lord, that we watch our ways
And about turn
To Your face.

Sunrise, breaking
Is like a distant friend
Returning
From a long sojourn.

Slices through heat 
Similar to sewing scissors on lace
Destabilising 
Equilibrium 
With a casual, cool, calm collectedness,
As if nothing could 
Pierce its particles;
Ruffle its feathers,
Unsync its code.

The coffee dripped
Into my mouth,
little droplets of life;
The rich, dark roast
Layered my tongue
Like velvet;
So sensual —
I could wrap it around my shoulders like
Helen’s, my Nan, foxy-red fur coat,
From the 1920’s and 30’s,
I am back there with her now —
With each drip,
And the zoot, zoot, zip
Of the trumpet
Bleating out
As dancers flapped about.

I just had a flash,
An image that's come to mind...
of little (me) bek (lb) splashing
knee-deep in puddles,
in the grey shallows of rain clouds
that's me...
always seeking,
searching for something in the gallows;
in the ebb-n-flow of life.

Sure
constantly o'er searching
for who I'm meant to be —
always peering, hoping,
that they'd pick me —

but

then

A ray of light dawns,
Someone peeks behind
the curtain, pulls me
out from the shadows

What I've been dreamin' of?! —

I freeze —
like a deer in sight

And I try to shrink
back in slight.

I discombobulate
self-destruct.

I don't know how to act this part out —

How can I move forward, be lb in the sunlight?

Gently, and lovingly, accepting that I am alright...

Running —
Running —
Everywhere. 
No destination to be found?!
My heart longs,
For what cannot be satisfied;
With meaninglessness abound...in.
Stop!
Cease chasing after the wind. You'll n'er catch him.
Stop!

Take off that old self; 
With old thoughts and old patterns,
And patent yourself on Yahweh!

Because
My heart longs —
To play, to dance, to sing, to be free;
And find strays today!
Look up and see the new path before thee.

Why do I walk?
For exercise;
For an influx of oxygen?
No.
For poetry’s sake —

Each step I take
Unlocks thoughts from the deep,
And I reach in to take a peep.
What peers back
Is not a gasp,
Not a rasp rattling:
“Get back to walking!”
But a friend, 
Who hears my thoughts
And welcomes them —

Who says: once more,
“Yes! Here we go again”
And by the time I stop
At my destination,
I've taken those steps,
And released my vocation
With unequivocal elation —

I have never
ever been a skylarker,
have you?
I think it would take
a bit of engineering
to come up with a gimmick or two.
I believe the term, rather, is skylarking
but I wonder if it can become a title too?
Or a role,
like the Joker or the Prankster
or is it just whimsical fun?
requiring no skill or gumption.

It prompts me to ponder
alternate universes
or realities;
other paths
my life could have taken —

Would I have been
wonder woman
wild on a stand-up stage?

A doctor,
or a nurse?
Breaking off death's curse!

Could I have been
a circus performer
Or would that have
concluded in a hearse?

I will stick, for now,
with poetry, and prayers,
and promises of life beyond how —
that's a trick worth playing!

Flames lick —
The candle’s wick
Consuming all — 
Waxy thick.
Fire purifies
Impurities’ sick
Enflaming all diseases
And sin’s teases
Leaving them but a speck.

Dear Rosemary,
Your scent is so lovely;
Piney and fresh
I want to mesh
Your menth with mine,
You taste really divine 
With lamb, red wine and more
You linger in my garden galore.

Roar...
Wild, uninhibited: free.
Living authentically me.
Ready for more?

Moving beyond fight, fleeing and freeze,
To green pastures,
Living beyond disasters,
In peace, free to feel the gentle breeze.

Risk...
Pulses surge,
New thoughts emerge — 
There are no boxes to tick.

Reward...
Works expanded,
Creativity flows,
Freely as the wind blows,
I move, no longer stranded.

Just freedom to be,
Imperfect, in deficit,
Out of control: incomplete.
Opening up to unforeseen possibilities.

Loose curls —
found scattered throughout 
my house
DNA traces —
Declaring existence
Beyond these poems;
Manifestations.
And fleeting interactions
In tight and wide-open 
Spaces.

Brave birds bop 
On bare branches outside;
Grandpa’s dominating morning —
Grey and makes everyone flee.
Logic larks: get up and walk, see!
But bed, with an abundance of blankets
And rain, lots of rain, drips don't be insane,
Get warm!
Despite this, cold sausages and coffee call:
“Eat me!”
And I do oblige.

Thank You for the pain —
Thank You for Your wisdom.
Thank You for the angst —
Thank You for letting it run its course.
Thank You for Your grace —
Thank You for letting me be,
fancy-face and free.
You are gracious and kind.
You are loving, Your words bind.
You are tender.
With no remorse, You're re-making me slender.
Your fingerprints are love marks all over;
Kisses from heaven.

Lying here,
again, in the bath.

My thoughts turn
To the Ancient Romans
Gathering together
At their community baths;
Sitting naked,
Talking politics, pottery
and…poetry of course…showmen?!
Did they have no shame?
Did they let it hang
For all in sundry to speak
Their ancient prose
And then finish up
With a wash-down, cold hose?

What is it about loose eyelashes
That prompts wofty wishes;
Are they heaven’s kisses
In disguise?

We all want to lift our eyes
Above the cloak of disguise
Even if it may compromise
The facade, and authenticity’s surprise.

This world is concrete;
In Western buildings and streets,
In the here-and-now, we can flee
And dismiss lofty things as absolute.

But we are meaning-makers,
We are constant risk-takers.
We are pursuers for magic’s sake,
And may our quest we foolheartedly take.

Wear your heart on your sleeve…
And let it get *****!
Love fully, but be prepared for heartbreak.
Know that these are the best 
Days of your life; 
they won't last forever,
But the memories leave traces rife.
They will reveal parts of you
You never knew existed,
Never knew you resisted
And never knew you needed.
A true friendship is like a mirror
Where you see yourself reflected,
In the gaze of the beloved.

My voice may not be sung.
But tis in the things done
In the choices I make — 
Good, bad. Unknown, they leave their wake — 

In the stories wrote,
In the battles fought.
In the colours I paint,
And decisions without constraint.

On the quiet places, it resonates,
Growing deeper with faith,
The tune changes,
With the new victories, He arranges.

Are we but pawns on a chessboard
That God just moves about haphazardly?
Or are we placed strategically;
And through God’s plans can claim: “Checkmate!”

They say with age comes wisdom — 
Yet, I am now at the stage where I know less.
I have piqued and critiqued
Myself and others, to the point of illness,
Sublimating for acceptance,
serving and fighting for the rights of the masses,

But — 

Killing myself quietly;
Loving others and receiving stress
Oblivious in blindness.

Wide eyes now,
And on the eternal quest,
to love wholeheartedly, subjugating wild-brainless
And embracing my divine mess.

How quickly we’ve been brought down,
On bended knees, crying please,
Stop the disease, we’ll take off the crown,
To our lives; listening to lies, mantras of self-help tease,
Hope beyond now. Clear the mental fog; refocus.

Our thoughts,
And our ways,
Become whiter than snow
When we gaze, without haze,
Lovingly upon the Lord.
We rest, cease the quest
And invest where our fortune
Is outside of time;
outside of oughts.

As I cracked my farm-fresh
Egg into the hot, hubbling, bubbling
water this morn,
Swirled it around enough
So that egg whites formed,
A soft, safe sack, encasing space
It became poached.

Is that what you've done to me?

Kept me safe and poached me?!

Is that not the very act of
L O V E…

As I climb
The mountain of road
On my sleek steal, bony bike
I glance back in my mirror
At the rich-reds, Oxy-intensified oranges
And burnt-brown trees and leaves
Lining the streets that dance;
Snow-capped Mount Kosciuszko in the background,
Wind whiplashes my wide agape
Mouth as I scream:
I am alive —
Euphoria!

I dedicate my days
to worshipping You
And writing sun-filled,
son-fuelled poetry.

Under the cover of darkness,
I plucked that rose from its bush.
I spied it two days ago,
even snapped a photo of its lush
Foliage.
I feel guilty now,
But is that because, I stole it stealth
Or is that because it now droops, lifeless?!

Poetry
May seem a solitary
Pursuit.

But,

In every
Poet
There is a myriad
Of multiple memories,
Classic characters
Distorted demons
Vying to be released beyond the vault.

To take root

In your minds and hearts

Forever a part of you,

And me.

Hey there,
Look at me!
Mixin it with the "big boys"
of Helloooooo Poetry.

I may be old[ER] in-age,
Grey and less slender,
Pumping out words
Like bullets with no gender.

But I hope,
The war I wage
Is of love and peace,
not one's re-locking the cage.

How do we use our platform
For things that matter?
Ego-crucifixion;
Liberation and not just idle chatter?!

How long —
Have I been holding my breath
Waiting for things to go wrong?

How long —
Have I been
Playing that same old song?

How long —
Will I adopt this pose
Furlong?!

I long for You —
I pant for You —

Desperately, I scream, internally,
Till my face is blue —

Here, there is no water,
Only rock, capturing no dew;
But devastatingly reminds me:
There is no home but You!

I am gonna come clean...
I think I am just a
tinsy-wee bit of a
DRAMA QUEEN!

Seeing things
in hyper-colour
When really it's black and white
and lacking wings

Yep,
I’m a queen
Of drama and melodrama
Take me down, down into the deep.

Where there is no sleep,

But a perpetual stream,

of life...

I wake,

To Heaven’s tears

Dripping down...

Their gentle potter-patter

Kiss the earth--

God’s promises:

To make,

All things new again;

Right.

I am a speck of sand,
on an earth made up of star dust.

I am both nothing,
and something; wonderlust?!

There is something about a library
That gets me thinking,
All those volumes make me fiery.
The mind travels far and wide, linking
Me to places I can hide. Lives lost
In dusty old books,
New lives imagined where there is no cost
But farcical flying carpets high above chinooks.

I cook delicious and dainty treats,
And watch other readers’ faces post euphoria.
I learn how to write a cinematic screenplay that’ll get bums on seats,
Ideas generated a plethora.

A quiet and soulful space,
Libraries help you positively grow.
In here, I can understand the myriad of lace,
And how to safely stitch a satin dress to flow.

In here, I've also fallen asleep,
So tired from overstimulation.
The overseers struggled to rouse from deep,
As these books hastened satisfied adulation.

This is a base
That deserves your attention,
We’ll benefit from reading your next case
Transported to lofty lands by the prose you mention.

We were created uniquely,
We prize individuality.
Yet we cheapen it by cloning.
We strive for innovation,
Yet we sell it to China for cheaper.
We dull our senses,
So we don’t miss what really matters.

I've been cut —
Down on all sides.
I've been lashed —
From the pain within.
I've severed —
Head and heart,
To avoid any further future fracture,
You could say:
“I've been to hell and back!”
But, extraordinarily
A shoot of hope
Grows within,
And I will water wastefully
Because I am worth it!

Fasten your mind on God;
Untangle the webs of my mind
As I step away from the
Webs of this world.

I always feel
like I am behind.
Like everyone else knows
The secret, or look at me
with those kind, sad eyes...
"You'll get there, honey...
in 10 years' time."

Okay, so maybe
I am a little beyond.
I come to things so **** late.
But at least I own my mind.

I choose my way!
Even if it's a pebbled path in the desert...
That goes round and round,
and round in circles so things aren't unlearned.

But when I look up;
take my nose out of a book,
I see that I am still reading Jane Eyre
other than cinematic thrillers with never-ending hooks.

Even today,
As I ponder this profound?
thought, I make sure I slurp coffee, [yay!!]
observe with all my senses, surround...

I want that feeling
that thrill;
Where my heart flutters
And my voice lifts in exultation;
a climactic shrill!
Is this fleeting?
Or is this real?
Is this my heart dreaming
Or is my desire the ideal?

I love my job(s),
But today, I want to skip
Work.

I want to lay, lathered in the bath with bubbles
For hours.

I want to find a new favourite
Cafe and try a new flavour.

I want to pick up my paintbrushes
and swash down scant dashes
Of paint, ink, and textures
On a canvas.

I want to write
Poetry while drinking Plonk.

I want to play dress-ups
That's yet to come.

Today.

I often write about birds and insects
and the sounds of nature
Around me…
But this morning,
A different kind of gallah
Sounds off;
The builders’ gaggle…
Construction cackle?
The workmen wag?!
Whatever it is,
they woke up the neighbourhood
With their speak
About as-phalt, bricks, and cm of gravel
And then it turned to
Their planned weekend escapades,
Too explicit to share here…

The earth still groans;
We lost our Shepherd
We’ve been left alone.
Now we have a lion roaming the earth, calling His herd,
Celebrate.
Lift your head,
Renew your hope;
Our best days are still ahead.

I love learning, I always have.

Curiosity compels,
To understand all the spells,
Bells and whistles.

Forever the learner, and never the learned.

The more I know,
The more I don't know.
It is troubling and yet…
Freeing.

Insight?

It's dark when I get up
To write poetry.

Who is awake too?

It feels so solitary,
But words are my comfort;
Or are they my tools?

We wangle together, wrapping each other up.
But I am no-one’s fool,
The ones that ain't got bite
Lie dormant in my mind's eye.

Potency propels prompting forth
And when I'm done, I sigh…


Relief.

Do you stop and take notice —
Of the sirens wailing in the background?

Wonder…what trouble has been seized,
A damsel relieved, or a criminal taken to jail?

Do you hear the sirens of trouble?
Or celebrate justice received?

I was in a deep slumber,
And You reached out to me:
“Awake, my darling,” You whispered,
And I opened my eyes anew.

Repeatedly, I have gathered you.
And yet you still fall, **** leaves, you're like a floating fault!
Killing me softly with your incessant grin;
Endlessly gloating: "I've got more where they've come from!"
Declares MN as she blows her windy, willowy waves of air through the trees; nice breeze but...






"Come on, give me a break!" I shriek.