Thank YOU, that I am not perfect!

I take off this heavy yoke,
This burden that cripples my spirit and robs my joy.
What is it like to live a different life?
To believe something different from what I've spoke. 

To try new things and become more of YOUR joy.
Thank YOU that I'm not perfect!

Thank YOU that I can make mistakes,
And can try again.
There are many possibilities ahead!
I can zoom ahead and I can apply the breaks,
I can stumble and re-wire my brain.

Thank YOU that I'm not perfect! 
So here's to another attempt,
So here's to continuing on the journey...
No matter what…willingly and NOT circumspect!

a bee buzzes,
a scream shrills,
a horn honks,
but silence...
silence...
Silence sounds...
it's not the absence of sound
but much more,
more than I expected
in the lows of loss.
It's like waves...
clashes of particles in the air
and tumbling together
in a rush of fusion,
movement.
Silence is not...
lack,
but an abundance,
of more...
more possibilities,
new ways of hearing,
new ways of feeling...
being...
MORE.

I love learning, I always have.

Curiosity compels,
To understand all the spells,
Bells and whistles.

Forever the learner, and never the learned.

The more I know,
The more I don't know.
It is troubling and yet…
Freeing.

Where do our prayers go,
When we put breath 
to our hopes and woes?
Do they float up to Heaven,
Or become a bereft flow,
never to be enlightened?

Asking faithfully so,
with lists full of prayers,
going back decades low.
Some answered joyfully,
but many more not, leaving me wondering...

Being
Real
And
Valuing
Everything about yourself!

As I climb
The mountain of road
On my sleek steal, bony bike
I glance back in my mirror...
At the rich-reds, Oxy-intensified oranges
And burnt-brown trees and leaves
Lining the streets that dance;
Snow-capped Mount Kosciuszko in the background,
Wind whiplashes my wide agape
Mouth as I scream:
I am alive —
Euphoria!

I was late
for the riot of kookaburras
this morning,
Which exacerbated
the pain in my big toe
as I ran, forming
a bruise on my left heel
in compensation. The ripple effect; scoring!

The Burra boomed
Shattering stillness
And announcing
all ‘smart’ phones alarms are defunct.
Lights lit up  one-by-by one,
As the sleepy slumber was no more.
Daily grind begins
On setting 2.0 on
The bean machine.
Thrive or die:
the mantra for this world.

I have empty boots strewn
on my back deck.
I have empty boots still
in my cupboard
not yet walked their ordained path.
I have empty boots
and empty dreams,
not really living,
or so it seems.
Where would have those steps taken?
Who would I have been?
Where could I now be if I took those steps of my wishful making?

Mosquitoes
Are pesky, little blood suckers
Aren't the ones meant to be eating tonight!
They weren't on the invite list,
But alas, they crashed the party
And gave me more love bites
Than I bargained for.

They outnumbered the guests,
And at my behest, I shut the party down.
I heard ‘Pink!’ protest: “Nooo, get the party (re)started!”
So, I did spray, lavishly, a perfume of Aeroguard,
but all that did was send shards of poison
in the air and me gasping.
O mosquito, this is no ode to you,
But an antidote to the hot air, mine
and sister summer.

I just had a flash,
An image that's come to mind...
of little (me) bek (lb) splashing
knee-deep in puddles,
in the grey shallows of rain clouds
that's me...
always seeking,
searching for something in the gallows;
in the ebb-n-flow of life.

Sure
constantly o'er searching
for who I'm meant to be —
always peering, hoping,
that they'd pick me —

but

then

A ray of light dawns,
Someone peeks behind
the curtain, pulls me
out from the shadows

What I've been dreamin' of?! —

I freeze —
like a deer in sight

And I try to shrink
back in slight.

I discombobulate
self-destruct.

I don't know how to act this part out —

How can I move forward, be lb in the sunlight?

Gently, and lovingly, accepting that I am alright...

you can learn much
about love from waterlilies:
openness and trust,
seeking energy from the source, the sun,
and reaching deep within
to float above all chaos
swimming below the surface.

There was a little girl,
With a little curl,
But when she looked around
Others could be found
Tall ones, short ones,
Sportier and funnier ones.
They looked like they’re having so much fun,
She thought, miserable, she sat glumly.
With head in hands,
She couldn’t see the fanfare and bands:
Celebrating life in all it’s abundance,
Lost, she was, deep in a trance.
But, then, deeper within,
Life spoke, welcoming her in.
You are loved, there’s no-one like you!
Why look to others, when you know it to be true?!
So off she embarked,
On a new adventure: divinely marked
Out just for her, and you...
Hearts held open can be renewed.

Wear your heart on your sleeve…
And let it get *****!

Love fully, but be prepared for heartbreak.
Know that these are the best 
Days of your life; 
they won't last forever,
But the memories leave traces rife.

They will reveal parts
You never knew existed,
Never knew you resisted,
And never knew you needed.

A true friendship is like a mirror
Where you see yourself reflected,
In the gaze of the beloved.

Transfixed;
You captivate my gaze,
Siphon my priorities, 
So they are fixed on You —

The difference between smite and smitten is only a couple of letters,
But the sentiment is worlds apart.
One harm,
The other love.
One lacks charm,
And the other is a healing balm --

What does it take to be
overflowing with warmth
for another?
That your mind doesn't make sense,
And yet it is above common sense.

Is it the same
Between bite and bitten,
The intent or effect?
Prey, it is somewhat better when it is enlarged and written --

Where have you gone, words?
She vanished like vapour;
No longer lingers like a whisper from my perception, but she girds
Them. She used to pour out endlessly,
flowing like a babbling brook.
Now, dry, like the earth before conception. 
Parched, she sits desolately,
Crying out Spirit fill anew!

About turn,
Face fear —
Discern, and
Have faith  —

No more looking
To the left and to the right,
But investing right where you are —
In You and realising in Your love.

I’m ready,
For a new season of faith,
Less heady,
And more heart.

Delving deeper,
Within Your loving embrace —
No longer a sleeper,
But expansively awake!

Truly present in life,
And Your love.

Is writing poetry
Vanity?

Outside my window,
planted is a fiery red-
branched tree,
I watch on, it stands bold
and oh so elegantly.
I try to imagine if it were a woman
What would her appearance be —

Would she be in one of Dali’s paintings
‘Woman Aflame’?
Would she be ‘Demelza’ in Poldark’s series?
Or would she be a spirit woman
ablaze for all the world to see,
Your creation and Your infinite beauty?

Our culture places little value on resting,
being.
Yet,
resting is vital to replenish.
Our twenty-four / seven treadmill lifestyle still falls short.
Blinds us to the fruit of stillness needed by our nephesh.
Be still,
Listen,
Wait,
Feel the beat
It’s calling all of us to one.

My voice may not be sung.
But tis in the things done
In the choices I make — 
Good, bad. Unknown, they leave their wake — 

In the stories wrote,
In the battles fought.
In the colours I paint,
And decisions without constraint.

On the quiet places, it resonates,
Growing deeper with faith,
The tune changes,
With the new victories, He arranges.

Slow us
Lord, that we watch our ways
And about turn
To Your face.

Screaming on the inside again,
This horrible feeling hangs over me like shame,
Will it ever be different, or just the same?
Even when the fires are raging all around,
A new fire is taking shape on the inside.

No more, no more, no more!
Give this tune a new name, it’s time to soar,
Time to stop being silent; no, it’s time to roar!
I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m grown,
It’s time to harvest the seeds sown.

Dream big, play hard it’s time, let’s go!
Put the books on the shelf, there’s so much to know,
In life, through experience, grow in confidence as you flow,
There’ll always be more,
So just step out and taste what’s install!

life is full of good times,
bad times and everything
that blurs the lines.

my good times vary,
overseas trips, and
my heart doing flips.

but the bad times,
they run the same script;
you aint good enough, never will be, what a trip!

now, the in-between,
seems so dull not to mean
anything, but it's mine.

my life is full
of good times,
bad times and
everything in between.

Remember when you licked the beaters
As your mum baked cakes?
Nostalgia of innocence teeters,
Recaptured on my lips
Today, after making meringue
For a raspberry daquise.
Fabulously, fruity favourite, heart-sang,
Laughing afterwards as I notice a leftover moustache.

I am fury, and
I rage.
I jump up and down,
Attempting to disengage.
From the idols,
The expectations,
And internal damage,
The oppression.
I am scorn, and
I lash out,
I scream:
Those ‘******* idols’ I shout.

Add voice to my poetry,
Don’t fear how you sound.
Feel the rhythm of my soul,
Open your mouth and shout it aloud.
It might start quiet,
Or even as a small squeak?
You’ve hushed it for too long,
Pull your hands back, so you can finally speak.

Your words might fall on deaf ears,
But don’t be discouraged;
The beat can’t be silenced,
Trust, try, and let yourself be encouraged.
Speak the words you’ve longed to say,
Just like a new language,
It might take a while to master,
But don’t give up, grow in courage.

Learn from others,
Be ok to fail.
T’is a season of new things,
And this path will turn into a trail.
Feel the beckoning, His yearning, and His delight,
Be willing, open your heart.
Play, see, taste, and I say again, trust.
Don’t rush or mourn, it’s just the start!

Roar...
Wild, uninhibited: free.
Living authentically me.
Ready for more?

Moving beyond fight, fleeing and freeze,
To green pastures,
Living beyond disasters,
In peace, free to feel the gentle breeze.

Risk...
Pulses surge,
New thoughts emerge — 
There are no boxes to tick.

Reward...
Works expanded,
Creativity flows,
Freely as the wind blows,
I move, no longer stranded.

Just freedom to be,
Imperfect, in deficit,
Out of control: incomplete.
Opening up to unforeseen possibilities.

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

Wild Animal Within

I want to befriend
The wild animal within
To sit with and know,
To encourage and mend.

To tame its twitches,
To friend its foes.
To flame its courage
And pull up its britches.

To walk the way
Of the narrow path,
To head North even with Rath
And help it trust You and all You say.

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...

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.

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.

I laugh at myself,
Do you?

I will sometimes spontaneously, spill out with song,
The tunes may not make sense, but does that make them wrong?

I will sometimes water the garden in my underwear,
And yes, dance around free, with no care.

These moments are sparse and are to be treasured.
They are the glimmers of life when feeling haggard and weathered.

I have come to the place where I laugh at myself,
Can you?

I am embracing my imperfect body, crazy curls and awkward twirls of a nobody, a somebody…

Everybody….

Now, that's something true.

La La La la.

Rainbows and vanilla marshmallows
Fill the grey-cloud streaked sky,
The trees on one side
Blow backwards, holding on for dear life.
As I went under the joy-filled coloured high,
I thanked God for His nature’s blessing
And the forgiveness of all my
unnatural thoughts, deeds and messing
And I let out a sigh.

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!

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.

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!

When you bounced across my path
The other day, you caught me
By surprise.
Seeing you up so close
Made me laugh with joy,
Reminding me to be
Present with open eyes.
Your majestic body, mastercraft!
One kick, deathly.
Present moment, realise!

Our days are but grains of sand
Some more significant
But all secure, set apart, grand
In the eyes of those who matter

Love each day
Full of life-giving breaths
Embrace the exquisite play
Of life, even now.

I bleed in life
As I bleed in my words;
All over the place
And without convention or order.

Weary but not wasted

Drawing on power from He who rides upon the clouds,
To face the battles this day that mount. 
Reignite in me an unquenchable fire. 
That stirs my spirit from the One that inspires.

What would Barbi wear,
If she went to Church?
Would it be white?
Would it be a modern mini
skirt, or would it be a pantsuit?
Could she be the new high priestess,
or would she be relegated to the sinners
confession box to cast all cares?
Or would she be Hillsong's worship
redeemer, belting out blessed
croons to lull our sins'
anxiety-inducing tunes?
It would be a shimmering
rainbow-sequenced number
flowing with loving kindness.
Maybe Barbi could save the Church,
elevating it to a new perch.

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.

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

I dedicate my days
to worshipping You
And writing sun-filled,
son-fuelled poetry.

It struck me,
When my phone asked, no, demanded—
To back it up,
How machines claim their needs...
Sometimes, more often, than not,
better than we do!

If miracles haven't happened yet...
Hold the tension,
Of the now and not yet.

Grey skies loom,
Threatening oncoming turmoil.
Or, a promise of loosening
Fixed ways?