Unicorn sprinkles,
Daffodils jam,
A little star's twinkle
And some dragon ham.

Some emerald clovers,
A pint of fairy dust,
A handful of stover
And some canned gust.

Teardrops of a Selkie,
Well shaken, not stirred,
The horseshoe of a kelpie,
Late Iron Age sherds.

Some fizzy witchcraft,
One bottle or two,
And maybe a draught
Of love potion too.

it is not in my nature

to be as I am.

I am not just a creature

of mould or of damp.




I will not be converted

to some noxious disease,

nor will I be perverted

to just stand on my knees.




I will not bow my head,

nor my heart or my hands,

as they're all I have had

to stand tall through time's sands.




you can shout if you please,

I am still my own boss

and will never just seize

the days that have past.

life is a voyage.
you know one day it will end.
why do we tend to forget that so often?
when knowing that the end
comes soon you start enjoying things
quite more intensive.
it’s like travelling,
just a little longer.

To enjoy the moment between
pleasant anticipation
and beautiful memories.
That’s what I call art.

exhausted
but happy
there is no energy
left in my body
and yet so much
to do
today I gave so much
and yet
do they expect so
much more
how on earth is anybody
ever
going to fulfill all that?
at least I'm proud of what
I achieved.

I had this feeling
once when I first flew
like a bird
to explore the world
and I came back to
the place I call home

I felt that I could only travel
when returning somewhere afterwards,
not somewhere - return to
the place I call home

I realised that I could only
call it home after having been away,
and that this feeling intensified
the longer I was surrounded by the foreign
before finding my way back to
the place I call home

but only now do I notice
how lucky I am
to have a place
I can call
home