I was not born of this time,
The 1920s are more me.
The swinging, the fast feet bopping over mine,
Maybe not the cigarettes, but G&T's,
Most certainly. My curls break line
and make chaos look magical glee.
I'd wear pearls draped lavishly fine,
And I'd stay up til early.

Jealousy is but a poison's curse
that leaves you nothing
but disappointment to rehearse,
over and over; self-loathing.

Wandering far in disillusionment,
To the desert of my soul;
Crying out in hoarse bereavement,
But is it time to take off the cloak of mourning?
And ready my voice for a strong testament...

Doubt, fear, and insecurity subside into apathy,
And the ink dries with those dark lies.

I’ve fought hard to get back to work,
But the real work I needed to do,
Was tend to the grief, deep inside.
There’s no job description for this role,
But there are tasks to complete.
Strategising won’t help,
But being brave will keep,
And giving in to just being there…
With the pain,
With the numbness, and grief;
the overwhelming ache,
For new life to come.

Black and white was my modus operandi;
Clothes, shoes, people, thoughts and religion.
But then my perceptions became distorted in pursuit of perfection;
Trying to avoid anxiety, depression and feelings of inadequacy.
I arranged myself: straight-jacketed, restricted, a life half lived.
My vision is clearer now, despite being doubled, optical nerves damaged and my peripheral limited;
Seeing things not as black or white, but as grey.
In this strange way, my vision has become more enhanced, freer, nuanced
Grey is not bleak but the platform,
Being present is better than being perfect.

The quintessential Aussie experience:
A meat pie with tomato sauce 
in one hand and a cold beer in the other 
At the Aussie Rules Football finals with your brother
And every man and his dog.
Cheers crooned from the crowd,
‘Carn the Lions! ‘Carn the Swanies!
“Carn the pies! ‘Carn the doggies!
Which way will it go,
No one knows.
That's the thrill, that's the chase,
That's what it means to be Aussie in case!

With a roll of an English tongue
We pay tribute
to Maggie Smith, from Downton.
She was a rare breed,
The last of the ton
Playing around with Harry
And in a dear Sister Act a nun!
Bravo old Dame,
your efforts were not in vain!

Lean in, more deeply,
When your instinct is to pull back (retreat/run).
Suspend your doubt,
When survival kicks in.
This path is known (well-trodden), and
It always ends with (in) love.

Yesterday,
On our way back thru Yack
We drove along 
On a bumpy and windy track
On the side of the road
Was at a rundown tin shack
Where the wind blew through every crack 
We drove gently by
Trying to leave it intact
On Bells Gate Road hid that idyllic track.

It's okay to
be
Ok.

Old Stanley pub,
Known around here for its blues
And delicious grub.
Fueled by blanc De blanc,
Makes you sway 
Infused by all intoxicating effects,
as the croons slay.

Feet in front of the fire,
life pulsating by.
As we slow for a second,
In the hazy historic high
of Beechworth; bank robbers, like Ned,
buccaneers and watch the gold rush by.

Words are like rubies;
Precious and rare.
Yet many I squander,
Unleashing with little care.

How can I be so incredulous about things
Such as Lord, you are my magnificent 
Friend, the first one whom I commune 
With, because You are the One
who goes forth conquers my foes
and silences the salacious snake
That lies and dies, yet tries all over again,
How obsequious; my dear friend,
There are but a billion other things, yet You Are!

When one quietens, life speaks.
In silence, the volume turns up on that which we are too busy to hear: birds bleeping, frogs frothing, lambs leaping and the wind whispering in our ears; the
Soul booms: remember me, I'm all you truly have
Listen.

Unsettled, unanchored, unbound.
Let go.
Embrace what you do not know.
Joy abounds; know the future is sound.

Right and wrong.
Black and white.
Giving voice to the darkness
Being open to the light.
Uncertain.

I’ve lived my life
Wanting certainty.
I’ve lived my life
unable to handle uncertainty;
Wanting to stay out of strife.

Fear of the terror in the night,
I tried to be the ‘good girl’
Fear of stepping out of place
I worked out the rules
And stuck to them uncertainly.

Lord, you see all things,
Please help me understand.
Lord, you know all things,
Please help me to stand.
Because I crumble in uncertainty.

Confusion reigns,
Doubt appears.
The terror increases,
Inadequacy jeers.
Uncertainty.

Argh! I cry out to you,
Please show me the way,
Lease reveal the truth,
Just as you rested, on that seventh day.
Certainty.

Stuck, enclosed in a glass jar.
Child-like, naked, incapable;
Round and round in circles, longing to move forward.
Freedom the babe craves, dreaming to be the One who opens the lid.
Observable to the judging onlookers,
Such power was relinquished.

I am reflecting all the time,
On every interaction, 
On every weather pattern,
the only way I make sense is through rhyme.

If you meet me, I'm an excellent listener,
And I'm working double time,
Thinking about your response and mine,
Sometimes, the inner critic takes over,

Derailing me off course 
For a moment or two,
My poetry can get blue,
Telling you the worst.

But, thankfully, these days,
I'm happier and true,
I keep my mind new, 
getting the thoughts out saves.

I am grateful for this new pastime,
And learning constantly.
I've become more free,
And congruent; with my original design.

rain clouds;
so heavy and thick,
they're so powerful,
they hide the sun
but it's not a long-lasting trick,
it's only a temporary catastrophe
until the sun stretches
out its rays
pushing away the need for the prosaic.

Am I what you say I am
or am I more?
I am more.
We all are. Amen.

To cope, we minimise
things into binary forms:
Good and evil, black and white
More or less.

But we are more;
More than right now,
More than what others say, and
What others see,

More than what we see,
so peek inside, and
Use the key of self-acceptance to
untraveled terrains of our hearts and minds.

What are our lives for? But to reveal our maker,
If we try too hard, we end up highlighting the faker.
Taken off path and into uncertainty, we copy
Others to fit in and minimise the ill feelings of being a nobody.
But it's not too late; turn back around and seek,
Another vision; your authentic self, even if she is meek.
For, one day she will grow tall; into herself once more,
She will be stronger, as she releases the angst from her ankles and pain from her core.
Masterpieces take time, discovery and delight,
Open your eyes and welcome new sight.
The path may not be what you dreamed - but it may be better;
Sweeter, freer, costlier.
But Yours.

I’m calling you back deep, dear one.
Deep, into the fullness of love.
Unceasing. Deep work has begun,
Everlasting, freedom-flying dove.

Morning dew glistens
On the grass,
Like Tiffany's diamonds,
As the sun rises
Promising a spectacular day;
God’s creation shines and
Brings glory!

The cycle of life;
The journeys we traverse,
etched in our bodies:
tattoos of the well-lived
loved and even loathed.
That’s a full life, isn’t it?
Leaving traces of our existence.

Acceptance is sweet,
But takes time
And is hard to achieve.
It cannot be worked on like a muscle;
Quantity is not the answer,
Time is.
Acceptance comes like a timid mouse,
Rather than like a herd of elephants.
Walk the journey,
Traverse the landscape,
Feel the sensations of emotions.
Be present.
Grief is a vital ingredient.
Embrace it with both hands, and
A warm heart.
It’s time for winter to thaw, and
Spring to have its way.
Feel the joy of new life,
Harness its power;
Acceptance is a force to be reckoned with.

when you pause
and ponder,
it's utterly extraordinary
that you are
alive;
out of the billions
you survived,
you are far
from ordinary,
what will propel
you to thrive?

flat on my back;
muscles seized
after an overdue  
workout.
resting,
trying to relax,
I know it'll
just take time to
work out.

When I look around the church,
The Kingdom is finally here
On Earth; all people of colour, nationalities,
Ages, shapes and sizes;
gender, sexuality and (re)marriage.…
in their tribes…{alone and together},
Worshipping; glory!
This begs the question: why are we required to focus on the priest?

i hear
the birds fly
overhead,
their chirps, squeaks
and squawks
inviting me
outside
to join the
morning party.

Remember when,
You provided.
Even when,
I didn't know,
You delighted
in me, so.

poetry percolates
in the unconscious
waiting for a triggered start.

poetry then lays dormant in the body
until it's ready to surface
in the heart.

I just overheard,
A gentleman slip out casually:
“We all have our secrets…” And I paused,
Self-reflectingly,
“Yes, i’spose we do…”

Take in,
The seed of hope before my eyes,
Widening, new life-filled lungs sigh.

And the train pulls out
Of the station,
Taking travellers forward
And leaving others behind.

Depending on the time
Of the day,
This act is done
With little to no sound.

Like a silent movie,
Especially the cool of the morn.
Where are we all going;
Where are we all bound?

Can one see beauty in anything?
A stick strewn on uneven grass, in the cool morning?

yesterday, I spied children peeking
through a hole in my fence,
ready with their legs stretching
out to step in, I watched in awe
at their bravery and marvelling,
"how far will they go?"
a far-off voice bellowed, they shifted retracting
and ran off giggling in glee
but I was left stunned thinking;
"When did my curiosity leave me?"

Not everything needs to be instant.
After three days He rose again;
Perfection in human form.

Spring has finally begun,
White cherry blossoms have sprung.
They pepper the sky,
Like candy cane on a high.
My vocals in delight reached out and sung!

Someone who lives authentically, their true self,
Unafraid of what people think.

Tic tok;
Seconds, turn into
minutes, stock
up hours through
days,
months, blur into
years.
I have been given life.
Good, bad, joys and tears,
Everything; strife.
Tic Tok,
Strikes the clock of time;
Precious moments
are thus mine.
Tic Tok.

Holy Spirit
You bring everything back to life.
You are life,
I can hope in you.
Extinguish darkness.
Drown out the lies.
Be the continual thread,
That leads me back to thee.

It always feels
forever out of reach;
the finish line,
that momentous victory speech.

This is my house, where
I can freely dance
Where I can be,
Without a second glance.
Where I can freely pray,
Thank you for hearing,
Seeing and providing.
Your cooling rain
deepens Your promises.