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
Like Tiffany's diamonds,
As the sun rises
Promising a spectacular day;
God’s creation shining 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 —
It's hard to achieve.
And it cannot be worked on like a muscle;
Quantity is not the answer,
But time —

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.

Death hath befallen us
Of a patient and kind
Resident, curious
She often quietly sat, her mind
Observing, empathising, harmonious.
She now leaves behind
Her memories; ghosts of good times?

This is my house, where
I can freely dance
Where I can be —
Without a second glance.
Where I can freely pray,
And thank You for hearing,
Seeing and providing —
Your cooling rain
deepens Your promises,
in my soul
not in vain —

Don't lose yourself,
to anyone or anything;
value your health,
free your heart to sing.

You are not known, but
You are welcome,
Free breath provokes hope,
The future will come,
Your timing is perfect.

verse after verse I rehearse
my inner world,
growing courage to discourage,
the lies that try to strangle
my dreams
of becoming the girl
You believed in,
to breathe in --

Yesterday, I spent time with an elderly resident;
Jean, who is the ripe age of 103,
She has been dreaming of dead relatives,
And as she talked, her face shone with pure glee;
She'd spent the night communing in Heaven
Which brought her joy; the picture of eternity.

After walking in the lightly misty rain,
I fall back into bed
and think; "thank God for my home,
warm bed, clothes, and
delicious food to eat...."
but then my mind turns to all
who have not,
all who slept out in that rain,
all who don't know when they will
ever feel safe again.
What can I  do about that?!
The need for action stirs.

the smell of freshly cut grass;
so infamous that companies
have tried to bottle it a mass
but it doesn't include the many
mud, smashed sticks, twigs
insect bits, that accumulate
and get thrown in the trash.
the smell of success!

just outside my window,
there is a cacophony of loud;
from teeny tiny insects
to the birds that fly over the ground.
I also hear a labrador bark,
and children screech from being bound.
in play, life outside my window,
step outside, because it will be found!

Peace, not position.
Trust, not tyranny.
Freedom, not fear.

you are my defender,
I don't need a pretender,
you hold the lock and key,
to my heart; set me free,
from the misogyny.

There's something satisfying
About enjoying the afternoon sun
With a lime and whiskey; drinking
In the moment, chomping crisps and
Reading prolific piquant poetry by everyone.

I am so irrevocably flawed,
That it should lead me to depression!
Perfection and not feeling worthy,
or good enough are like shards
Of broken glass, causing pain where gnawed.
But I'm reminded, of what beauty,
and reclaimed brokenness are; kintsugi,
And cry out more freely: I am flawed!
And how happier that makes me.

Play days, are
Lazy days, where we spend them in
Many ways; cooking, laughing,
Taking photos and making up say-ings.
Rain or shine, these moments are divine,
Memories with loved ones,
I can't help but cherish them more.

simple delights: warm air carrying buzzing bees,
pollinating big trees, bringing me to my knees,
alive and grateful; yes, please!

Every cut, every scrape,
Every tear and every 
misgivings we have;
Each heartbreak,
Are etched into our bodies.

The first time I had brain surgery,
At 10 months young,
Mum said she had to hold me so tight,
for hours after,
I screamed until I was done.
Fighting the body tremors.
Eventually, I calmed as she sang.

Other scars came, later in life,
heroes of sporting accidents,
But I didn't notice.
Until the AVM surgery in my 30’s
Resulting in a devastating stroke,
After a novel surgeon made a wrong poke,
And a 40-day coma ensued.

Eventually, waking up numb, in shock,
All senses lost;
I couldn't hear,
See, walk or talk.
Shut down; hell.
No tears, murmurs, gargles or squawks,
Just numbness.

Even now, as I write, my body remembers, 
Sending shivers and tremors 
Of that dreadful season.
Eventually, I walked,
Re-learned how to talk,
Accept my pain, and joy, as I regained 
Mobility, hearing and eyesight,
But the grief is still stored in my heart.

Through poetry, I've tried,
To make sense of and write
Every grain and offence,
To help me build in strength.

I pay homage.
To you, my body,
Tested and true,
Though no beauty queen,
You are a machine,
That doesn't give up,
But writes a new score;
One of the treasures I adore
When I open my eyes and see
The wonders in this world.

It was the frogs’ croak
That greeted me as I walked this morn,
Oh nature, how lovely is your cloak
All varieties with it are adorned.

Poetry can be found anywhere;
In the simple and sublime.
In a tweeting Talaud Kingfisher,
Or a dry, dead gum leaf in your backyard or mine
Be inspired to look around,
And you can find provocation for every line.

The first one whom we compare,
That can drive apart the bond we despair
Until we admit we truly care
We’re as separate as the endless stare:
At her hair, height, weight and flare,
Compassion frees us, so we can truly share
The life we’re born to live, she with me, here.

winter produces
dead leaves,
that when raked
breathes
life in the soil
that creates trees
in months to come,
air in my lungs now; reprieve.

Why is it that I've tried so hard
to forget?
When I've spent so long
trying to remember.
Then, when I stop,
it all catches up with me.
You catch up with me.
I catch up with myself.
When did I lose you?
And how did I find myself in this place again?
The place of wanting to run,
Run so fast, hard and away.
From myself, from you, and from the world.
I break,
I'm shattered.
I fear all these little pieces
can't be put back together,
No matter how talented the artist is,
I'm broken.
But then I remind myself of the
Beauty in the broken places.
Breathing again, I walk on into
A new dawn,
A new day,
A new life.

Life's paradox;
healing means waiting.

To Haiku or not,
We wrangle words for a sport,
No need to stop short.

Line for line,
I write my thoughts down,
Scripting my inner
Monologue.

Thought by thought
I turn them over
My motivations and intentions;
My driving dialogue.

I poke, I ****,
Scrutinise and summarise.
I leave them and walk away
And then I catalogue.

I cry out on the inside:
Why can't it just come easy
But that's perfectionism
The *****, I want to flog!

This road doesn't grow thin,
But gets deeper within.
Or is it like a diamond, 
Compressed within in the smog?

Life is but a whisper,
The volume is built in the heart,
Long before it enters the mouth, and
Henceforth carried by the atmosphere.

I am enough,
I am tough,
I won’t lay down without a fight,
I am bright,
And if you don’t stop, I’m going to get rough!

You are nothing,
You are smothering,
You try to spread lies,
To make me panic and cry.
You think you're big, but I know the One who is enduring.

So I look to Him,
Breaths calm, anxiety falls back from the brim,
I can change,
I will focus on the feelings that don’t feel strange,
But on the One deep within.

The king of eye muscle surgery
reins
Although my eye wound weeps
and complains,
He has helped me see one
Therefore, I cannot be glum
So I'll kick my heels up and count my gains.

I used to think,
Joy was the absence of sadness;
Of fear, suffering, and
Fault.
But now,
I see joy as
Embracing pleasures in the pain;
The simple and sublime,
The now and not yet.

People, people everywhere, but
No life I enjoy.
Disinterest feigns my heartbeat,
Where is my joy?