Lonely, like the ancient ocean
flooding fast upon the sand

past a fading line of footprints,
ankle deep in surf she stands

casting wishes on the water
like a sprinkling of snow,

light they land but moments after,
melt into the waves, and go..

The journeys end

  Tis the place where the lifes journey ends
  To rest a home it lends
  Rich and poor side by side
  laid to rest three feet wide

  Tis the place where the silence remain
  To rest a home with no pain
  young and old side by side
  wait till judgement never to hide

  Tis the place where the stone tells the tale
  To rest a home, not for sale
  dear and near side by side
  To the heavens journey they ride

  Tis the place where the memories begin
  to the departed a farewell to sing
  friend or foe, coward or brave
  all to end in the deaths grave.

One child, one teacher, one book and one pen can change the world.

I raise up my voice -- not so that I can shout, but so that those without a voice can be heard.

Malala Yousafzai

Such wisdom from one so young
Such clarity for the truth
Such bravery in the face of danger

Dare we place upon these shoulders
the heavy burden of hope, expectation?

Already your name will live for ever

Some things are simply understood
Without the need for spoken word
Others better said out loud
So they may be heard

Some thoughts are better unexposed
So not to harm the atmosphere
Others need to fly and soar
To land on lover's waiting ear

Hold the tongue, bite the lip
Let not insults from it trip
But compliments that smooth the way
Let them see the light of day

is there a hole
in this shadow
of deep darkness,
so that
i can just crawl
myself into
and get out of
this mess.

They said  'Above us,
rising soon,

will be a shining
supermoon,

with the sharpest
shine for years'.

We raised our blinds.
The sky closed hers..

He hasn't buried the baby within
but today he buried the ashes of his baby
crying like a baby
as the river devoured the bone dusts
and all the remnants
of the cuddles and kisses
hollowing him to remember
the guest of his blood
that would feed on his grief
for the rest of his life.

I swirl galaxies
In a fit of pique

Soothe exo planets
Locked in orbit

Blow gentle air
From hot face
To freezing rear

This I
Centre of centreless
Space

Dimple in the chin
Of directionless
Being

Entire universe
Mere metaphor

Of how This I
May feel
Right now.

This vaunted ambition
These vaulted palaces

Celebrants all of

This I that
This I calls

God as a two year old
Stamping mighty feet

This nothing at all
This whatever
This I
That is what it is

And loves only
This I

November comes
with the wild geese
in their V like memories
of an arrow flying
too close to the sun
and their feathers shining
as their wings beat as one
drum in the distance
signaling that winter
is coming, and the cold
days will keep us inside
warmed by the fires we crave
deep in our caves painting
and dreaming away.

Simple thing

Walking soflty

Rice-papered