Monday, December 30, 2013

When the leaves know your secrets...

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 She followed the trail
through a path of lush ferns,
deep, into the deepest forest.
Here the overcast skies cast a silvery light,
and the mist hung like a draped furry coat
from the drooping and scented pine needles.
She felt an entrenched peace,
felt only in utter solitude,
sink into her, through her...
...the barriers of concealment habitually locked into place
dissolved as she breathed in the sweetened air
of raindrops and moss,
and she smiled a contented smile of relief
as if the leaves on the trees knew all her secrets
and tranquility settled in her soul like butterflies...

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Merry Christmas

...especially not today,

what, with all those cookies and goodies lying around the house,

a Christmas tree draped with sparkling lights

and beautifully wrapped gifts waiting to be opened...

Merry Christmas to you!

Tuesday, November 5, 2013

The Internet

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It’s so easy to go to that screen and disappear into the void
of spoon fed images and preconceived ideas,
that invade your mind and align your thinking
with the global perspective of people you don’t even know.

As you leaf through these ‘pages’ your thoughts are held hostage
by a visual assault under the guise of ‘knowledge’,
as the written word is true, indisputable black on white,
and the enquiring mind gets stunted into believing without fact.

And it’s these words and images that fill your imagination,
that occupy your mind, leaving room for little else.
Your talent is consumed as precious time is whittled away,
and you turn into an island, out of touch with that which is real.

Wednesday, October 30, 2013


Heavy is the heart that is buried in silence,
the eyes that are lost in the dark,
a soul that can’t feel is a lifeless breath
while a touch without love bears no weight.

picture credit: "Sink" by Antoine Art Studio

Alienation is a prison built by hurt and pride alike,
and its boundaries reach as far as blinkered eyes have spied the world.
Tears and sorrow spread around this self-created desert land
whilst it’s love that heart desires, yet unable to construct.

Tuesday, October 15, 2013


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The demon still hovers on billboards, in stores,
in people around me, in musical chords,
he’s built a huge stage with gold as his wares
for those to please enter his devious snares.
And though his smooth voice, now familiar to me,
can’t lead me to mischief, the ultimate deed,
his power’s around me, each hour, each day,
taunting and tempting his pleasurable ways.

From him I can’t hide, can’t pretend he’s not there,
I’d lie if I said that I no longer care,
for seven long years he has been in my wake,
yet still I keep hov’ring between love and hate.
…as much as I wish for that carefree numb mood,
its pleasure I lived for, with passion pursued,
I can never find it again, I have changed,
it tore me to pieces, we are now estranged.

 In support of OcSober - 

Friday, July 19, 2013

The day I drove past my childhood home

I realized I had been avoiding it,
much as I had ‘lost’ contact with people from school,
shunned reunion’s as a rating game to see how you've fared in life,
on this, the day, I found myself in viewing distance
of the house in which I grew up...

I looked at a house that was no longer there
and heard the whisper of children’s voices on the wind...
grown up’s dictating, children obeying, silence when ordered so…
And as more images tumbled over one another in a chaotic mess,
I found myself searching for flashes of happiness,
for regret that I no longer lived there, was 14-years old,
free from any responsibility and looking forward to the rest of my life...
surely they must also be there somewhere?
Had that even lived there, or had it been struck from the record
by too many bleary eyes, apprehension of what will be
and the never-ending state of pretend in which we lived.

…those were the rules of that 14-year old girl:
no use making ties, reject attachments -
much easier than to trying to explain and giving them ammo -
don’t excel, don’t fail, just stay in the field that warrants the least attention,
don’t side, don’t speak out, be agreeable and make peace no matter what.
Yet each time the moon colored the world a happy silver
she felt the shame that wasn't her’s to bear,
bowed under the guilt that wasn't her’s to carry,
and cried for the choices that weren't her’s to make…
Are these the images that remained, even after all these years???

I stare at this house so familiar, yet oddly foreign,
where the color is wrong and the trees have disappeared…
a house that looks like it’s been stripped by heartache and despair,
a garden that’s surrendered to the ravages of nature.
And as I drive away I wonder whether it is the memories that taint this house,
or whether time has simply waged its war and won…

Monday, July 1, 2013


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A silent death awaits those
who prey on the weakness of others
for absolution of their sins,
those willingly accepted as their own to bear
in moments of their own flawed redemption.

Thursday, May 9, 2013


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slight disparities perceived
by your senses sharp retrieved,
while your logic is deceived.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Just another abandoned brownstone

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A brownstone, abandoned, captures my eye
as the dying rays of the sinking sun
play through ancient and tall oak trees.
A chill in the air now takes my hand
and leads me to the faded green door,
while the leaves are whispering in my ear,
“Open the door... there’s no-one home…”
The musty smell of wandering ghosts meet me on the other side,
those who leave no footprints, yet still brush my arms
in welcome to their old and graceful home.
Wooden floors creak, an echo of movement from years gone by,
whilst spider webs sway from the ceiling like old memories...
A myriad of smudges on the dusty windowpanes
decorate the peeling walls with charming and playful sketches
that are not quite the way you see them now, never the way you thought,
and they cast doubt and fear in the ever deepening night...

Thursday, April 11, 2013

The Silence of a Moonless Night

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The time has stopped an hour before dawn
and you’re lost in the perpetual silence of a moonless night
that offers no comfort and smothers faith
as the lifeless air steals the breath of hope from the breaking dawn.

Friday, March 29, 2013

Midnight at Noon

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The bright silver light of a round full moon
mirrors in the daylight,
through cloud layer thin and muted sound,
a moment'ry of midnight at noon.

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

How to train your Dragon

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When the dragon looks at you with its gaze hypnotic, deep,
you can feel the peaceful dream of the freedom numbness heaps,
on your body and your mind as it feeds you with its breath,
taking hold and wanting more of this wanted, timeous death.
 It’s a dragon that won’t go, who demands a part of you,
with each breath he takes a piece of the dream state you once knew,
‘til the craving in you mounts to a thirst you cannot sate,
and you chase the dragon whom you no longer can dictate.

This is when you start to sink into ruins black with mould,
while your addled mind keeps seeking ways to shed this dire hold,
yet the desperation claws, shredding reason, tearing pride
into shards that cut you deep, and the dragon’s back inside.
 'til the night when lightning ripped through the clouds into your soul,
thunder roaring as the dragon fought to keep you in control,
and although I may succumb to the wafting tail tomorrow
for this moment it is I who no longer deigns to follow…

Monday, February 25, 2013


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On a summer’s night full moon it’s the glow of the red light
that captures the stealth of the black cat, as it moves through the shadows
as an unknown entity, the harbinger of the darkness, laced with the tears
of the blood that has fallen with the opening of the door that is white
in its deceitful lie.  A perfect facade that hides the gaping needs of the ones
fated to inhabit this space without the inclination or ability
to escape through the tunnels offered to them by the night...

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

The tracks

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With a sigh I drop down on the soft grass alongside the gravel road, tired from the midday sun and the long walk down the mountainside. I close my eyes, lifting my face so the breeze can catch my hair, and then lean back to rest against the trunk of a tree.  A faint smile plays on my lips, a smile of happiness, no, contentment, intermingled with the pure enjoyment of being where I was right now.  I'd walked away from the darkness that clung to me on the other side of the mountain, down in the valley, in the house with the peeling paint.

There, an oppressing atmosphere of control, desperation and hopelessness prevails the air, the taps shed tears rather than water, and no amount of light and false laughter could lift the cloud that seemed to permanently hover overhead.  I had my share of troubles, as my aunt used to say, be it a mix of teenage rebellion, and the need to escape the bleak surroundings of a house filled with neglect.  I tried it all, being a dutiful daughter, having the right friends, doing what was expected of me. And when that didn’t work, I’d bounded to the other side, where dubious friendships and illicit activities again did nothing to fill the gaping need in my soul.  I blamed myself, but was too young to know any different at the time, and the roads I travelled were full of diversions and distractions.  Yet something kept bringing me back to the same point. To the same decision I hadn’t been ready to make. Until this very morning…

I woke up to the smell of nicotine wafting from the kitchen down the passage into my room, and heard two voices in familiar disagreement with one another, as they have been for as long as I can remember.  How I’d dreamed of waking to the warm rays of the sun, to the smell of coffee or frying bacon, and the gentle murmur of conversation of two parents who were the heart of the family.  But no amount of dreaming could change that which was.  So instead of quietly going about my morning routine, I packed my backpack with clothes instead of books, and rushed out the front door with a hurried “I’m off to school”, probably completely unnoticed, since the voices of disagreement had intensified to a level that did not leave place for anything or anyone else.

Once safely around the corner, I made the call: “Aunt Sabrina, I’m on my way…” which was greeted with a delightful laugh and a “It’s about time”.  Aunt Sabrina, what can I say about her… other than that her world was filled with silver linings, and she has a hug and reassuring smile for even the smallest woe.  She has 2 dogs, she has a cat, she tends her garden that rewards her every year with colourful blooms, fragrant herbs and fruit that bursts with juice when you bite into them.  She runs a guesthouse, where the guests invariably became her friends, and the small town in which she lives resounds with her laughter and never-ending creativity and energy.  The only time I ever see a cloud cross her eyes, is when she talks about my uncle, her husband, dead for many years, taken too early in a freak car accident.  But this too, she lightens by recalling one or other anecdote from their wonderful life together. 

She and my mother, even though they are sisters, are as different as day and night.  She often spoke to my mother, asking her to consider me living with her.  After all, she lived in a small, yet beautiful town, wholesome comes to mind, where fresh air and green meadows would surely cleanse out any troubled teenager.  She was far to diplomatic to insinuate that any “trouble” could be a result of their lack of rules and routine, stemming from their love of alcohol, drugs and wild parties in their younger days, which just escalated to two human beings tolerating each other out of necessity and the unwillingness to change.  My mother was not fazed by this questioning, although she said that the decision would have to be mine.  My father’s reaction, on the other hand, depended on the time of day and the number of substances in his system, although the general outcome was “over my dead body”.  I think he liked to believe the lies he told himself, that we were a happy family living life in difficult times, and that no matter what, we would stick together…  And I too had hope. I hoped for a happy family, a family who shared their sadness and their joy, who supported and depended on one another, who would have holidays at the seaside, share wonderful Christmases and Easter’s together, but that was a lie I no longer could make myself believe.

I awoke with a start to the whistle of a train… just as a butterfly gently brushed my cheek, and I watched it happily dancing its way from wildflower to wildflower. I had dozed off sitting there, midway to the station, alongside the tracks.  The tracks I’d been meant to be on all my life, and not all those side roads I was always so eager to explore.  And even though I knew that staying on this line will not always be easy, I also knew it was the only right way forward.


Thursday, January 24, 2013


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I wish I could merge with the shadows of the trees,
to observe undetected the day progress
‘til the heavens lay a glittering quilt of dreams
‘cross the undying infinite sky.
And I dream of traveling on the scent of blooms,
dipping and dancing through faraway meadows
while tickling the wings of butterflies
before coming to rest on the polished-glass surface of a blue cold lake.
Slowly I'd sink through the shimmering layers,
as visions of beauty imbue a parade
on my fragile and thirsty soul…

Monday, January 21, 2013

Fade away

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It’s a thundering blow… the air leaves the room… voices slur… colors fade… movements slow… a river roars through my head… I shut my eyes, find my breath, as the sweetest hush fills the air, and it’s here I find you, close and warm, the way you're meant to be…

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Forgive me...

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Please forgive my impure thoughts, disloyalties and transgressions.  Forgive my silent anger, my impatience and stubbornness; forgive me for being selfish, unsupportive and unreasonable, for my arrogance and pride... forgive me for being callous.  I ask you forgive me my lack of faith, and please give him back his life...

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

The End?

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If you knew the end,
what would you be doing
right now?