Your ripple will pulse
Through times’ eternal waters
As if you still live.

Life has been a rollercoaster
since the winter solstice passed.

Venturing through tribulations hoping fledgling love would last.

Seeking out each others’ dreams and stumbling forth at times
(but then)

Reaching for the outstretched hand that puts all faith in love again.

Learning about one another, lips oft locked and pulses swift.

Anchoring steadfast emotions once thought hopelessly adrift.

Quiet moments give contentment,  hands entwined, so warm and true.

Visions of the future me loving the future you.

There once was a Cardinal Pell,
whose innocence didn't quite gel.
He made Atheists hope
(and concur with the Pope)
that hopefully there is a hell.

Can someone please tell me
On which plane we now reside?
Valuing the cheap laughs that the
Freakish Trump provides?
Existential crisis doesn't seem
Far off to me, when war and strife
Escapes our eye, in our frivolity.

Dear Mr Postman,
You stopped and so did my heart
We were meant to be.

There once was a bone weary teen
whose muscles were starting to scream
she was having a sook
‘bout the miles undertook
but grinned with memories of icecream.

Happy New Year?
Well for now, I can’t say.
I have my own hopes
but there could be delay.
I’ve ordered World Peace
there could be a speed bump.
I’ve also requested the demise of Trump.
And the continued success of all bee colonies
and protection from racists and their bigotries.
And more empathy amongst all of mankind
And for those who are seeking? I hope they shall find!
At the end of the year I shall rinse and repeat and hope to find some on my wishlist complete.

Dear Mr Postman,
Our fate was sealed with one look
Love, Mrs Postman.

Dear Mr Postman,
Do you deliver by hand
If the parcel's big?

Dear Mr Postman,
You brought me more than letters.
Something to hope for.

A cactus in a plastic *** all year ‘round beauty skips.
But to its own advantage, so too, do snails and thrips.

Its outward look gives not the eye the pleasure eyes demand.
It even spitefully responds to its caretaker’s hand.

However, once in a blue moon (If you’ll pardon the cliché)
Sun kissed jewels emerge to show their bountiful array!

Other plants all year ‘round blossom, showing off their prize
But the cactus reveals an unforseen beauty hidden in its guise.

Dear Mr Postman,
I longed and waited for you.
Did you think of me?

Still alive in memories
Thought of fondly, though years pass
Part of your family’s history
Loving hearts still hold you fast.

The brave ones wield their mettle,
yet again not settling for defeat.
Retreat is not a choice!
Though their voices shake; they speak their truth.
Strong and weak.
Age and Youth.

What became of me?
Stripped of my identity
Grief engulfed my soul
Where is the girl of old?
Was I simply existing
Inside a well formed shell?
No-one new my weaknesses,
No-one could tell.
What became of me?
Stripped of my identity
When you came to me
I was oh, so happy
You left me feeling hijacked
And my world was shattered through
Now I’ve lost my confidence
And lies became the truth.
What became of me?
Stripped of my identity.
I’ve become so sad
Thinking of what I could have had
I must learn to live with this
Yesterday’s girl non-existent
Now I have to get to know
The me I really ought to show
I’m living with a stranger in my head.
What became of me?
Now I see that I am free
Welcome in the new
And start to become truer to myself

Life is for the living
Do enough forgiving
To try to liberate you from your woes.
Life is no rehearsal
You get no reversal
So focus on your friends and not your foes!
Life can bring you sorrow
Tune in on the 'morrow
Every storm gives way to a breaking sun.
Hold on to the good stuff
Even when things get rough
Then life is bound to be a better one!

You’ve traded insults with him from the time he could return them.
If he offered you which hairy arm to pick, you’d Chinese burn them.
His annoying level neediness would see you waste YOUR time
Just to see him stand, silver in hand,  on the Space Invaders line.
But HE was always there to help you put the chain back on
When the rest of the BMX Bandits had thrown up dust and gone!
And he was there to corroborate when your day in court arrived.
You were braver because you had him there and TOGETHER you’d survived.
Then the day when words escaped your lips and you just needed someone to save you?
No questions asked; jumped on a train; no hesitation gave you.
Coz pesky brothers grow into men,  somewhere along the way.
Rough them up but love them well for you’ll need them there some day.

Dear Mr Postman,
Why did you wear those short shorts?
I was so alone.

Love!
I’m in it!
Love!
I’ve win it, no! WON it!
Oh **** it! I’m in it!

As the new day dawns
A feather floats slowly on
Cloud reflected seas.

Dear Mr Postman,
I fear and hope for the day
That you look my way.

Dear Mr Postman,
Are you always so aloof?
Can you know my pain?

Dear Mr Postman,
Could you ever notice me?
Should I trim my bush?

Dear Mr Postman,
What would make you stop awhile?
A hair flip or smile?

The word "love" there is no doubt
gets bandied all about
You use it as an epithet
and yet this moniker bestowed
Does nothing to whet
My craving, desire
to explode with the revelatory
notion (and I bemoan) that your devotion
is
to the word alone.

The lighthouse stands firm
Guiding me to safe waters
Anchoring my heart.

MURICA, land of the free!
Y’all can’t tell me
Give up muh guns!
United we of the
NRA stand, the sacrifice?
School kids’ blood on our hands.

Life can have it’s highs and lows,
The sorrow and the joy.
Sadness knocked upon our door
When we lost our little boy.
That year has passed and here we are
A Mum and Dad once more.
We gaze at you in disbelief
Oh girl that we adore!
You were a bud about to bloom
When we put aside our sorrow.
We never knew that your blushen hue
Would be the colour of tomorrow.

A stranger poked me
And left me wondering why
I became the poked?

Love me like you’re young again
Kiss me in the rain
Let your heart beat out a rhythm like it never suffered pain
Lead me to your secrets
I can hold them dear
When your fear tells you to run
Draw yourself more near
What does your heart tell you?
Does it call my name?
Whisper words I long to hear-
That you feel the same.
Give me all your passion,
take away all doubt
Love is not a whisper it’s a most resounding shout!
If the fire mellows stoke it reverently, give me everything you’ve got or honey set me free.

The loving acts of daily grace
That no other could replace
The quiet way you show you’re strong
Forgiveness when you’re wronged

A silly moment, smiles abound
laughter and group hugs all ‘round
You belong here like no other
Special, priceless, strong, funny, warm and giving MOTHER.

Today I love you dearly,  you are so special to me.
But how this came about is written in our history.
I remember a chill at night, shivering in my bed.
Then the draft was gone, the blanket tucked and a kiss placed on my forehead.
I was soaked with fever's sweat when a cool sponge touched my arm.  
You stripped me down and cooled my brow and told me I'd come to no harm.
I came home with news of triumph, claiming ten from ten!
You smiled and said " I knew you could! You've made me proud again"
You see, it was the little things that you did every day that made me brim with confidence; to help me find my way.
Now every time I kiss a brow or tuck a child in tight,
I know that I am carrying my mother’s loving light.

Some love is rhinestones.
Some love, veneer.
Some love is false, simply words that you hear.
But love beyond life is surely the kind,
that hopeful hearts search for and souls want to find.

Close your eyes and dream a dream where wishes all come true!
Faeries land on giant sunflowers singing as they do.
Ponies gallop over fields of swaying strawberry grass.
Butterflies reside inside tall atriums of glass.
Air so sweet, the water clean, it sparkles in the sun.
Gold dust falls from shimmering trees to shower everyone!
Children sit upon the hill, making daisy chains.
They seek shelter under giant mushrooms when it rains.
Baby bunnies hop around in luscious berry patches.
Mother birds trill songs of joy as each sweet baby hatches!
The sun, which smiled all day long, sets beneath the rolling hills.
Fair maidens set fresh loaves to cool upon their window sills.
The children walk back to their homes to rest after their play.
For now it’s time to sleep and dream about another day.

When I die,
I leave a legacy
For the earth
For kin
For my progeny.
A stone which has skimmed this infinite pond.
The ripples continue through life and beyond.

Why must we unpack MYSTERY?
Wrap it in Theology?
Box it up with piety and on our knees call “Deity!”
Can AWE be trademarked, WONDER sold?
Does the unknown have to fit a mold?
Embrace the pure uncertainty and cherish possibility.

I hate that this year hurt you.
It really was a *****.
It makes the vein on my forehead throb
and my eye does that freakin’ twitch.
You didn’t deserve heartache.
You didn’t need the pain.
But I can see a rainbow after misery’s grey rain.
Red is love, a balm to soothe and lift the head that’s hung.
Orange is the zest for life that grows from when we’re young.
Yellow is the brightest sunflower, capturing your smile.
Green are dilatory fronds that whisper, “ stop a while”.
Blue, the tides that ebb and flow – reminding us of time.
Indigo and violet- vivid sparks. The rush. The climb.
My wish for you in the coming year and all the years to pass?
That colours shine through your darkest hours.
( and this past year can kiss my ****)

Memories hold dear,
which were born of deep devotion.
The notion of time fading the ache?
A feint, a fake played by fools who dodge emotion.
Hold steadfast to the joyous spark, igniting recollection.
A rush of joy to fill the void, you’re buoyed from ever knowing this man’s faithful, true affection.

Bad Jokes.
Sad jokes.
Really silly Dad jokes.
Jokes that simply aren't PC
Jokes that coax a bit 'o wee.
Jokes that flop but then recover
Jokes told by your little brother.
Jokes your Grandpa thinks are funny
Jokes told up on stage ( for money)
Witticisms left and right
Jokes for morning
Jokes for night
Some jokes make you slap your thigh!
Jokes can really make you cry.
Jokes you wish you hadn't heard
Some that really are absurd.
Jokes you laugh at ( but you shouldn't)
Jokes someone told ( but you wouldn't)
But the point ( all said and done)
Is jokes are meant to be some FUN!

Barely a flutter
To exist is to be feared
Rocks, your only friends.

There once was a Mum on a train
her teen was becoming a pain
She patted her hair
and said “ Oh there, there”
and smiled though her patience did wane.

Hush
And in silence.......PEACE.

To the one I adore,
I say
More, more, more!

Erase the anguish
I caused in my thoughtlessness
If only I could

Give me a sign
So you can be mine
And then we can see
What it’s like to be “we”.

They just don't understand.
It's fresh as that day for you.
Like the tingle of your hand when sympathy has squeezed it tight,
you're heart is holding on with all its might.
They just don't understand.
The need for a time machine.
When your heart demands what your mind knows to be impossible,
impassable grief sets in.
They just don't understand.
Loss is an unmapped journey, no chronology, no ETA.
Just finding your way.
They just don't understand.
So tell them not to try.
Just be an ear and a shoulder when you cry.

I was moving at a cracking pace
I was wearing lycra too
I had monitors on arm and wrist
( telling me what to do)
You lurked around the corner
With your tantalising smell
Oh Waffle House, why did you send my health kick straight to hell?

I say thanks though it's not enough
To the war torn, the weary, the fearful, the tough.
To those who returned and to those who have died.
To those shunned at home and to those met with pride.
Our lives of freedom, joy and vice,
gifted at immeasurable price.
Lest we Forget

This gift called life sometimes seems like the unwanted kind
and you find yourself trying to be clever, tape it back together.
You don’t know whether to complain
so you refrain from saying  “Hey, this is not what I put on my list”
and so you miss your opportunity to speak your truth, to speak your pain.
But see, it’s never too late to call it out!
Your story is about your chronology, there is no expiry for being real about how you feel- your authenticity.
So take the gift again and know that it doesn’t always have to be about endless happiness and joie de vie.
The gift is the journey, not all paths are paved. Not all angels triumph nor all sinners saved.
Hold fast to hope, knowing that it has no end and your true gift just might be revealed around the bend.

Fly our little ones!
We are here right behind you!
Always family.