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poetry pondering the curious things that arrive
with morning coffees, wide skies and whispering ancestors

I am missing


'I am missing', said the Rabbit

'You are here', said the confused Badger

The Rabbit began to search for I

The Badger scratched its head

Underneath its pillow?... 'No'

At the point of the horizon?...'No'

Inside, the inside of stuff?...'No'

3 days the Rabbit searched

3 days the Forest, the Rain and the Wind observed - amused by such a search

'It seems I have left', declared the Rabbit after 3 days

'Who are You?', asked the Snail

'A Rabbit who has lost its I'

The Snail pondered for a while

The Squirrel wondered if it too had lost its I

The Wind smiled and blew through the Trees

breathe 1.jpg



living room

filled with voices

kind voices, important voices -

in the whirling storm

I come up for air,

Silence smiles at me...


chocolate on her tongue

she's trying to feel better

this place is heavier

than she anticipated


colours on her skin

she's trying to look better

living deep 

behind clocks and things


smile lines curving

she's trying to move better

looking through 

this world to reach

'make my imitation real'* - said a man she had never met

fidgeting with astrolabes

fumbling through traffic lights

she's trying...




Hello Moon.

I am suspicious of you.

A light bulb in the night sky.

I read somewhere,

that You arrived.

I arrived too.

Perhaps we are the same.

We are after all,

both in love with the Sun.

the glorious funeral

Heavy, a weight on her cheeks,

from a long time ago

with the breaking of Worlds.


She’s walking in the labyrinth of a Rose,

and marvelling at the designs of Water,

a home fit for the King of Kings.


Intricate as the lace of Her home, a Spider

   sits in the corner of this realm

pondering the Wisdom of Love.


Giants,  and their invisible footprints,

walk with Angels on concrete highways

wondering,'when will we be seen?'


Inside a heart, the Beginning mocks an End, 

as the sum of something, explodes into a

million possibilities.



and Walls

drawn by grey beards

stand ready for cremation.

Their hearts soften at the sound of clapping

from Butterfly wings...

labbayka, labbayka….

By the River,

under a Great Tree,

from a window looking across a foggy street.

Anchored sometimes

with that piano song playing on repeat….

she waits.

Curled up,


with an orchestra of Colour,

...ingredients added to

feel wholesome.

The cold whip of misery,

brings a change of direction

and those coffee stained deaths in boardroom meetings….

...Created to make


less linear.


Summons a figure


in this quest.

And finally at an edge,

Silence makes His 

grand entrance—

...And Quiet is crowned.

Until …

the shriek of MURDER...

folds a scaffolding 

holding an idea,


the curse of movement.

And so it begins 


Inside the golden prism of Sound.

Caught for days in the breath

of a thousand Stars.

At a bus stop, swept in a love story with Rain…

Here I am…


'Hello', said Flower

'I am here, and you are there'

...Pauses between things

Beautiful pavements

Beautiful curves in movement 

How else to live here

Smoky sways

in golden halos

Rustic band plays

Light cornered by stuff

Flowers squashed in a glass vase

Sleeping winter tales

Ladybird on a train

with sweaty commuters squashed

Mirage of green air

Still, sat crossed legged

on a carpet of Spring Green

The spider builds home

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