How long —
Have I been holding my breath
Waiting for things to go wrong?

How long —
Have I been
Playing that same old song?

How long —
Will I adopt this pose
Furlong?!

I hold this space
For you to be —
Vulnerable and wholly.
I hold the space
When you stumble,
I come alongside,
on bended knee,
So that I can see —
Your bright future in my eyes.
I tell you what's ahead
It's more exciting than you can imagine —
I encourage you to look up
And out,
And live with no regrets.
Isn’t that what it's like to love?!

Hold my heart,
Tend to my heart,
Heal my heart.
Don’t disregard,
It. For the world,
Waits for no one
Life wounds, wielding judgment, and
Unsavoury sound bites, but
Lean into me,
Lean in a little closer, and
I'll mend your heart,
As I massage it back to life,
One precious moment at a time.

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?"

Homeward bound,
Where my true self is found,
Free.

Purposed, surrendered and ground,
Happiness, peacefulness and sound,
Free.

Wow! I just had a flashback,
To the ‘good old days’
When there were no cars
And everyone says,
‘Hello, how are you?'
We’ve streamed ahead so fast:
Hundred miles an hour,
But going nowhere that will last.
And yet, there was a bright spot 
This morning, when a lady
Rode her horse right by me,
I stopped at the same cafe, 
where I was drinking my coffee.
I was so surprised, I gasped,
And even took a snap.
I needed that, to get me out
Of my nap, and indulgent life choices.

A wander, canter, gallop or trot,
Your body becomes one with the horse.
As new movements pulse, pain is forgot;
Nature’s beauty relieves pain from the source.

Silence replaces the busyness of life,
The trees sound out their own tune.
Animals show us how to live,
And their movement illuminates how we can thrive.

Mystery;
That is faith.
But can we have faith
in this world?
When it is so broken;
How did Michael Jackson’s face change?
Struck me while I sat
In church wondering the mysteries
Of the world.
Was it he who changed,
To fit into the world?
Facelifts: nip here and tuck there?
Was it nature?
Pigmentation malfunction?
Or us, who could not handle change,
That made him alter to
Make us feel less uncomfortable?
How different have we become
To make others feel safe,
But in doing so,
Fundamentally,
Lose ourselves altogether?

I just had a vision;
of all of us @HelloPoetry poets
online around the world, reading and writing poetry.
What do we look like; this precious community?
Are we similar or vastly different?
Tall or small, dark or light, and handsome or indifferent?!

I would love to see, all of us from up high,
flourishing, or anguishing, in our creative drive.
May we collectively motivate one another,
as we strive, applaud as one hovers,
and empathise as one dives,
down, deep low, crash and burns, as we try.

Today I pulled a plum,
Apart with my fingers and my thumb.
I did not use a knife,
But held it open to examine life.
And when I finally ate
It tasted all the more richer.
And the texture
Was a virtuoso in visceral sensuality;
Vibrant and mouthful.
The enveloping heat from the sun
Moved through my body like a homerun.
And sounds exploded in my eardrum,
Replacing the peace with a sweet hum.

I feel hungover,
Ugly and fat.
(It might be
that I drank last night),
But it is more likely
That's because of
Gluttony.
I'm not chasing
Anything, anyone, anymore.
There's no anxiety,
Is it depression?!
What is this unknown place?
I know to be present,
Which elevates and calms
These feels,
So I'll sit and watch:
The butterflies and bees,
Release this heavy
state till free,
And embrace these sensations
just now, of me.

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.

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.

pearls
are my favourite
of all my jewels.
the way they're made,
from scratching, slashing, ocean water splashing fuels
intricate transformation, done in no haste,
but time.
not one is the same,
just like my curls.

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

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.

I just caught a little lizard,
Scuttling around my bedroom.
It made me gasp, and catch my breath before I could scoot forward.
When I first noticed it, I let it go because I didn't have any ‘pets’ and it wasn't harming me p)
But when I saw it twice, action spurred me.
So hunting I went, spying also for mice,
Caught it and took it out to the garden to set free,
And free me, from the outside jungle invading my space!

Slices through heat 
Similar to sewing scissors on lace
Destabilising 
Equilibrium 
With a casual, cool, calm collectedness,
As if nothing could 
Pierce its particles;
Ruffle its feathers,
Unsync its code.

yearnings called me back deep,
pulling me in the opposite direction.

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.

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?

If my thoughts can lead
To depression,
And from our thoughts, we speak,
I revolt against my thoughts;
I have become my joy!
My heart fills, and
I am full of love,
My posture lifts,
I am full of hope,
My movement quickens,
I see opportunities, and
I will become my joy.
I am joy!

I hear you, little girl,
You don’t need to hide.

I hear you, little girl,
You don’t need to perform.

I hear you, little girl,
You are now growing into a woman.

I hear you, little girl,
And cry for the things that were stolen.

I cry for you little girl,
You can just be.

I cry for you little girl,
You are brave with much to offer.

I smile for you, little girl,
And am so proud of who you’ve become.

I heal for you, little girl,
And let you rest for a while.

every minute of every day
I keep looking
over my shoulder,
wondering if today's the day,
you're going to say
goodbye.

goodbye.
door shut, don't even try.
and as I keep chasing
down the shadow,
I lose who I am
even to try, again.

They say with age comes wisdom — 
Yet, I am now at the stage where I know less.
I have piqued and critiqued
Myself and others, to the point of illness,
Sublimating for acceptance,
serving and fighting for the rights of the masses,

But — 

Killing myself quietly;
Loving others and receiving stress
Oblivious in blindness.

Wide eyes now,
And on the eternal quest,
to love wholeheartedly, subjugating wild-brainless
And embracing my divine mess.

I love Sunday for its quietness,
I love Sundays, for there is no rush.
I love Sundays for writing poetry.
I love Sundays for the hush.
I love Sundays for the calm before the storm.
I love Sundays because my mind reboots to the norm.
I love Sundays because I can take my soul for a walk,
And let it roam across heavenly realms.
I love Sundays to be without an agenda that I have to chalk.
I love Sundays, to remember.
I love Sundays, and that's where I will be,
Loving You more without animosity.

I miss my best friend;
She brought adventure to my life
We hiked Machu Picchu and Kokoda,
Tasted dumplings at Holy Duck! in Kensington.
We were close for eight years:
Preempting needs - bringing her back a lg, skinny cap
after my morning walk around the Kirribilli shoreline.
But somewhere along the way,
I lost myself in her.
Love turned to hate.
She didn't see me, need me anymore
And it became too late…
I miss her.
Well, the idea of her anyway.

Where too, shall my soul seek immortality?
It hath been found in work and people — 
Are they not noble pursuits?
But Death they found, surrendered, feeble.

Heaven called, why not try I?
So sought and found sweet streams.
Rested but for a while — 
Until consciousness awoke my dreams.

Did not Shakespeare claim the pen,
Is mightier than the sword?
Now keys replace ink,
But still, words cannot be ignored.

Words create our worlds,
What doth they saying of you?
Breath sweeps o’er the mountains
Worry not the truth is still true.

Does creativity require an audience?
Or is it just ok to be?
I ask this to the Master for concordance,
Because I want to learn how to see.
Your intention behind creating us,
And how You made me?
I feel You’re ok with my questions, thus
I’ll keep asking till the curiosities flee.
Please help me channel this inner drive,
For answers, peace and intimacy.   
How can we harness,
And share Your revelations purposely?
For lives saved, inflictions healed,
And eyes fixed Heavenly.

Inside, I’m screaming out, “look at me!”
“Notice me!”
Too, long, too long,
I’ve neglected to see me because I was lost, looking over at others.
Such wasted years, such waste to fears, discouragement in my ears, the many times, I’ve wiped those tears
Stained eyes, they were closed for a period of many, many days, to get new sight, and
To hear the truth within; “darling, I see you; you are my beloved.”
Deep senses quieten, even though tremmers still pulse,
Claiming life within thriving for expression.
I can’t stop; I allow you to be seen, heard, criticised, discarded...celebrated, yes, honoured, revelled, desired, loved.
Because that’s who you are, who you’ve always been, when you were off, waiting to be seen.
But now I am here, and now I begin again,
New steps, new paths; enjoy, embrace joy!

I am waiting for slumber to keep
and surrender to the deep,
but only aches do conquer,
claiming victory over my saunter.

In You, I am alive —
In You, I can try; thrive —
In You, I can create,
In You, I know my fate —
In You, I can fail.
In You, I can see all,
Now, truly.

I stand.







In the middle of my lounge room.
Not wanting to sit,
In case I crease
My cream linen suit
I just so tirelessly
Ironed.

A healthy reframe:
to be jealous
is acknowledging
longing within,
when we detach
from that ache,
we become bored, disengaged,
angry and spew out apathy.

Why do I walk?
For exercise;
For an influx of oxygen?
No.
For poetry’s sake —

Each step I take
Unlocks thoughts from the deep,
And I reach in to take a peep.
What peers back
Is not a gasp,
Not a rasp rattling:
“Get back to walking!”
But a friend, 
Who hears my thoughts
And welcomes them —

Who says: once more,
“Yes! Here we go again”
And by the time I stop
At my destination,
I've taken those steps,
And released my vocation
With unequivocal elation —

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!

Even though I hold a bouquet of regret,
I shall not fret
Because You will ensure
I never fall.

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?!

What does Snow White see,
When she looks in the mirror?
Does she like what she sees, freely?
Or does she, like me, look
With dismay, and say, 
"Oh, my skin is not as white,
As yesterday, I won't go out and play
Today, I will stay in and away,
Because people will say 'she's not so fair'."
It's not fair that weight of expectation,
and the wait for ultimate perfection.

Sitting in the Aged Care Pastoral Care room,
Drinking a warm milky tea and eating a Monte Carlo.
There are beeps outside from staff going in and out of ‘secure’ rooms,
The hum of the dishwasher in the kitchen nearby,
Gentle clanging of knives and forks being sorted,
Staff chatter going in and out of Residents’ rooms.
Life in an Aged Care Center.
Taking in this precious moment; I am here,
I'll never have this moment again,
A moment I've been working towards for years through study and practicum.
I am a spiritual carer!
Walking alongside the life-full residents;
Their crinkly, sagging skin, lines that tell a thousand stories
Of love, loss, despair, and hope for repair
oscillating between the past lives and future selves
Some are only just here for the minute.
So much they can teach me,
And like my younger self eager to learn,
I listen hopefully.

Fear is the only thing that will keep you from the truth,
So is self-consciousness the only thing we should fear?!
Just relax…

Just stop, trying,
Just, stop, trying. No more,
Let it pass, stop denying.
Wipe the tears, drying, lift your eyes,
No more nigh in, or fighting or sighing,
But more yes.
And more success!
And more belief through accepting divine relief.

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!