Where have your words gone?
My lips forever praised you, and
Today is worthy for celebration
For you have delivered me,
You lift me in triumph!

when I look back, I'll see,
the steps I took to become me.

put the song on and dance,
let your hair down
throw your arms up
and dance. Feel the vibrations,
sensations revurberating,
through the trance
of life's circumstances.
Romance pulsates in the dance.

Forgets, frail and frozen,
Where hath your warmth but gone?
Fall back into the arms of love,
Peace, trust and hope; the one to whom your life is sworn.

Gadgets and gizmos; the testimonials to technological triumph,
Are great at numbing reality
and distracting you from life.
From feeling, from crying and hoping...
Placebos try to lull you but inevitably
lead to more strife.

Debt, disconnection and ultimately desolation,
Not the promised life,
But the meaningless; that will cut
Your soul with an eternal knife.

Wake up sleepy from your sewer slumber,
Reach inside, not to the devices, but to your heart,
Tis your lifeblood of existence,
And nurture all cells and selves till death you part.

Arise and shine;
Reflect His glory.
Leach back from the lure of the labyrinth of darkness.
Tis the season to live out your story.

The pain of life is everywhere,
Sitting below the surface.
It’s too simple to dichotomise here,
We feel it when we don't get the kudos,

And we feel it when love is lost,
So we pull back and hide.
We notice it when our ego’s bruised most
When money on the market slides.

And how about when we text an old friend
No reply comes back, an empty smack.
We apply for a new position, career or trend,
Someone else wins and you get all the flack.

We can't escape the pain, it hits us like rain,
Over and over again we face it.
Wounded, guilty and filled with shame.
despite the pain, we say f*#k it!  And keep going.

Opportunity after opportunity
some could say leads to discontinuity
or spontaneity?
Can it lead to deity?
Frailty surely will come
But we can spark that with
originality?
Frivolity can be a gateway,
To birthing new possibility.
Imagine the ingenuity!

Take a walk with me,
Come, let’s go,
Let’s fly away or bunker down low.
Don’t prepare, let your instincts lead and see.

Do you notice the streetscape?
Or do you look at me?
There’s the trees and the bees, mums and bubs on bended knees,
Plenty of amazing jewels leaving your mouth agape.

Memories fill our hearts with love,
Risky moments, tender moments, 
Slow moments, fast and fun moments,
Lifetime of treasures; mine, that fit like a glove.

We can’t toss them aside,
We can’t escape their joy or pain,
But we can let them be, washed away by rain,
Or liberated by the sun, whatever...don’t hide.

Live in this moment.
Not a moment too soon, or
Too late...act now! You’ll swoon ;p
It may not bring fortune, but atonement?!

I am listening to Billie
drop her new album,
Curious to hear, indie,
pop or chill, vulnerable?
Or will it be just another
wannabe?
And as I ponder, my focus
wanders to the bird calls
outside my window,
they are spectacular,
unique and peppery,
shrill and squawky
and a soft melody.
How can humans compare?!

One step at a time, don’t run ahead or you’ll miss that step?
Contradictions, paradoxes,
we live in a world of being so exposed
But yet, we are all still so hidden,
To ourselves, and to each other.
Trying to predict the future is prized,
Yet, it’s such a cowardly act.
One step at a time is bravery undervalued:
It doesn’t win awards, but you win yourself.

East and West are not wide enough apart
To make me forget your love.

In a world of instants, waiting is foreign —
We’ve succeeded in drawing everyone together to our detriment,
That we’re never alone.
Loneliness is feared, rather than embraced,
Draw nearer to the One our heart is longing —

When we wait, we wonder and wander,
This is the place, our heart we discover.
Anxiously, we busy,
Rather than sit, reflect on the other.

We can transcend this moment in time,
Waiting seems like a block, something avoided, rather than embraced as mine.
In this space, we’re not gender or race,
But a being, alive and fine.

Quietly the unheard voice from within,
Speaks, giving you true meaning.
From here creativity is born;
New ways of seeing draws in.

Curiosity can play; dance, sing, build,
In this posture creativity is filled,
Down falls the scales from our eyes,
In this space anxiety is stilled.

When we wait we are dependent, and free,
Eyes are opened and they really see,
The cracks and flaws, the misgivings and discomfort,
But also the beauty and uniqueness; which is me.

Comparing is...
Having your eyes blinded to
The reality of who you are,
Really.
Reality is stark; it holds no glamour, but
A life well lived holds the tensions of
Reality.
Hand-in-hand the joy in the pain,
The reality that this is life,
This is what we’ve been called to live;
Loneliness in the ordinary,
Joy in the pain of the everyday.
This is life.

I always thought I had green eyes,
They are, in fact, blue.
Envy has discoloured them
and obscured my true view.
Having now matured;
trauma, aging, greying (audible gasp),
healing is happening
in ways not anticipated,
nor valued at first.
But now, I am embracing
my true blue eyes to see anew.

Remember!
When the ground feels shaky
And things are falling skyward;
Peace is our gift, embrace it
with both hands.

The Australian bushland;
A menagerie of sound and life
Step back from distractions
And walk wild, rife.
Rekindle your inner animal
And free yourself; flee!

I wrap Your arms of love around me
Warmth fills my heart.
I breathe in deep.
Tears well up, knowing Your intimacy.

Love.
Your eyes are on me.
I am not alone.
I don’t need to struggle,
Because I have Your attention.

But do You have mine?
Please renew my mind,
So I can know the deeper things of You.
Love.

Feel the tension,
Even though it’s uncomfortable,
because it’s where you’ll grow!
Lean into the discomfort,
Feel the disconnect, as
That’s where new life begins!

Deep darkness, despair.
How could you know, you’re not there?
Empty mind I crave,
But constant chatter takes me to the grave.

Fleeing, running; working, studying, drugs, and stuff,
Distractions from revelation; I am enough.
Progress is prized; the final nail,
We need true clarity; the holy grail.

Opening out and up to the mystery unknown,
Here, flourishing can become our own.
Insights of the true us,
Found when there’s nothing, no sound, no ***...

Embracing loneliness can be the pearl sought,
Moving away from things ought,
Turning to the unknown,
Is where true dreams are sewn.

Waiting’s heavy yoke; a punishment beareth I cannot,
Unknown steps before me terrify; well-known potholes behind I've trot.
Weighty dreams consume the ego’s choker chain,
Releasing all this right now, trusting there's so much more to gain
Travel to far-off places experiencing life in new ways
Adventure abounds, and destination awaits; confidently claim the future and graciously inhabit new traits.

And it died.
I didn't realise trees
needed watering,
but they do.
It's silly to think,
how I didn't understand this,
I mean, the garden looked so green
from all the rainwater,
but there it is,
my dead tree,
at the top of my garden;
and we all pay homage to it,
now dead.
Is that the same with other losses?
Friendships and marriages?
Jobs, possessions, conflicts and disparages?

People say things like:
Where did that time go?
Things are moving so fast...
and it's true, and they are,
but when you're in the moment
they're not. It is only when
you look back or look in the mirror,
that you notice time has truly passed,
and you see the grey hairs;
and exclaim: "Oh, I am old now!"

Do you know how hard
it is to pick up broken
eggshells scattered?
They shatter smaller and further
making picking up the pieces
painstakingly difficult;
fragile matter.

Is poetry found in our blood
or squeezed out in sweat and tears?
Is it a talent that only the fortunate
get? Or liberation of our fears?
Can one hone it with practice,
Or give up now and change gears?
Then, is poetry for the anxious
perfectionist that nitpicks through the tears?
Maybe it's for the one,
Who is curious, observes and leers?
If it were just talent, then I'd be overlooked
And if it was sheer hard work, I'd lax my jeers
Because I lack the patience.
For me, the Spirit of creativity shoots out words like spears.

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, and fragmented,
Strangely, my vision has become more enhanced, clearer, freer, and more 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!

Life is full
Of contradictions.
Embrace them all,
Or you will get bitter,
**** them dry
Til you are sweet!

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.

Don't we live in a world
that is round? Why then,
do we say: "They came
from all the corners of the earth?"
Question everything, now that's sound!

Larks of joy sound,
Use the key and unlock thee,
My heart of love resounds
That you would hear my call and see.

Yesterday,
On our way back thru Yack
We drove along 
On a bumpy and windy track
On the side of the road
Was 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.