May the goodwoman
Blaze the trail
To the honey box
Knock gently twice
Tell the bees
The whisperer is gone
May they carry on
Tell the bees
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Category Archives: Wellbeing
Sound the gong
Plausible
Plot twists down slinky pole
Like ivy gone wild
Parched dry stone wall
Tips stretch limbs
A divining stick
Precious lick of droplet
Curtain falls
Cool shower soothes
Sting of unseasonal
Summer burst
How to say, thirsty, is all
Ivy, though clinging, choking kind
Something renaissance about it
Ivy league, why?
Look down from chest to feet
All that hides between
Not so incongruous are we?
Tower bell strikes harmoniously
Synonym of ceremony
Meringue gown falls
Layers of royal icing kind
Not my style anymore
Since dawn erupted
Relentlessly upon eyelids
Call to arms silenced
Love does a number on us all
Down to only one
Sound the gong
Two seeds
Which one to water
Who could know
What it will be
So tiny, two leaves
Open the flower
Scent on the breeze
Wait and see
Which one are we?
My secret garden
Urgently wish
To kiss you
Instead, waited years
Climbed high mountains
To coincide with
Long-held promise
Of blooming again
Timestamped
Wholly unbroken
The line between the time
You told me all your stories
To now
I write them out
Though not mine to tell
Story keeper, holding closely
Treasuring artwork on cigarette packets
In New Orleans
Erecting tents on byways of Canada
Evading bears
A sense of place is important
Venturing out beyond all civilisation
Loved ones' names in acknowledgements
On all the field papers
I fade and fall rather than reach for such stardom
The earth and all its impact
Wakes me from timestamped memories
With beers in gaudy bars
Canadian moosehead overlooking
That look, watching waiting, startled -
Only to flee into the wilderness again
Wishes on the wind
Blustery spring
Rattles my windows
Within
Batten down the lids
Promises of snow drift
Footprints on photos
Places I never go
Lift my mood somewhat
All I know
Is to write my heart out
Send wishes on the wind
That is all I can do
When the wind
Whips through me
Awash
Dancing in waves
Clifftop winds
Faeries on parade
While I trip down
Sandstone path
To the place where
Minutiae of death
Washes ashore
In shells and stones
A place where love lived
A childhood once before
With love
We leave
And let leave
All the ones
We ever loved
We cannot keep
So let them sail
Out past horizon
On winds of change
And do the same
I draw the line
Horizon begs me to come
Envious of all other
Lines I draw in my life
Its endless encore
Whispered in the waves
Come to me
I'll save you
Yellow pages
I am attracted to the same old
Playlists, meditative serenades
Stretching from 80s to last year's hits
To clip my nails to
Leading me down the long and winding road
To where your row of hedges
Meet the letterbox
As far as it goes.
Conjuring ideas of monologues
A tribute to intangible
Feelings dribble all over the page.
Ones that never make it out of the envelope
Perhaps it's better this way.
Better than burned unceremonious
In the back paddock of my hey days
Better than buried by the bedroom door crawling with miniscule dust mites
Sidled up to last decades yellow pages
Better to be read and real
Than devoured by silverfish
Keep putting it out there
So Tracy Chapman says,
How I wish
Someone like her
Would sing so much
For one like me.
Enough rhythm in pounding heart beats
Substantial originality
To fuse a lyric or two to it
I want to write a song
It’s how I'll know
Whether she'll be -
Muse or siren?
Found in time or sea?
Call me...
Count the stars of heaven 