Pure delight
Little fingers find
Feathery treasure
Waving its finery
We shed parts
Of ourselves
For friends keep
To admire
In sharing
They grow
Lighter
Fly higher
Lament
Those of us
Left behind


Pure delight
Little fingers find
Feathery treasure
Waving its finery
We shed parts
Of ourselves
For friends keep
To admire
In sharing
They grow
Lighter
Fly higher
Lament
Those of us
Left behind


If a sprout takes root
On an Island
That drifts away
Heading South
It was always there
Seeds that flew in
On the breeze
Hosted by birds
Do we blame these
Mixed leaves?
So what happens
When I wander hills
Wondering whether
This bloom or that
Warrants attention
Is all life
Worth a mention?

I've been around the world
At sea, floating, fighting
Sweating, delighting
In the vastness
Of ocean
Beauty
Deep
Yet, there is no one
Anywhere who
Inspires such
Imagination
As you
For me

How I marvel when Horror and strife Make ordinary turbulence Seem trifling How one image in the wilderness Ignite a longing Lifelong To be inspired To be present In the last days In the silence Is an aspiration Over which we have No accord Though truly Authenticity Girded by love Will always be a Heavy weight I bear it With a smile A laugh, song Stride in step Love thee well

One thing about me I'm rarely care-full Willingly Usually it takes Just a moment or two Inspired by you A glint of the eye Upturned mouth Laugh it out I am won Will climb high Mountains Swim deep Oceans Earth might Freeze over Future dim Soldier on And do it all Not for me Only For love

She sits enthroned
Her head of stone
Arms incapable
Of waving royally
Disempowered
For her beauty
Strength, immortality
Divine femme
No king of beasts
Can protect her
From iconoclasm
Cult postmodern
Mother to all
Yet none to rest
On her thighs
Soothed by breast
A body erect
All that remains
Of love

~John Elliott Classics Museum, University of Tasmania.
Heartache
“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”
Jamie Anderson (Author of Doctor Who).

Far fetched
Flung
Elusive
Elaborate
Clearly fading
Truth evading
Tell strangers
In their thousands
All but one
Can live happily
This old love
With peace
Precious holding
Delicate dandelions
In the wind
Seeds travel
To far off lands
Letting go
Empty hands
Hold open
Wondering
Where you go
Do you take
Words with you
Let them grow?

Would I be amiss
To ask you
As the rain
Washes through
Opening again
Until the summer
Scorches us
We hide away
Missing crimson
Pea flower
At Christmas

As hours expire
Gazing window view
Love of labour retire
Labour of love renew
Little surprises find
As a couple appeal
Acknowledge fine hands
That made our meal
Return home to kiss
Heads upward bent
Work to prepare
A meal among friends
A satisfied look
Falls on tired faces
Giving love and life
Into all open spaces
