As my light becomes dark

I intertwine my words and vision into woven light

Friday, September 30, 2011

The Night

Stay out of my shoes
For I will stumble
Through the pocketful of gems
That only grow in the

Wednesday, September 28, 2011


You are the bird that hangs from the wire
You are the light that scares the dark
You are the dust that gets caught in the breeze
You are the rust in weathered steel
You are the prayer I hold in my heart
You are the smoke without the fire
You are the bag of stones I carry on my back
You are the song that silences my room
You are the sadness that falls on morning’s dawn
You are the pieces that can’t be put back together
You are the places I have never been before
You are the stranger I long to meet
You are the wall standing steady in my mind
You are the gaping hole that can’t be filled
You are the brightness in my shadows
You are the stars that reflect my dreams
You are the angels that kiss my brow
You are the water that helps me float
You are the thought taken carefully
You are the moment before waking
You are the lost that can’t be found
You are the hero that sheds all fear
You are the desire caught in my dream
You are the wondering in my thoughts
You are the ache in my bones longing for you
You are the shell echoing waves in my ear
You are the muted sounds that want to scream
You are the greatness lost within me

Sunday, September 25, 2011


the happiness quest is like
strawberries dripping with
sunshine and dew
being drawn to your scent
the brown chair next to the fading print
sunlight breaking the dream
car rides and loud music with your glancing eye
lattes in takeaway cardboard cups
birds on a wire on winter mornings
my heart in the nape of your neck
it is his cheeky grin and cars made of dough
purple scarves draped like lavender fields
when you won’t let me go
the freedom of having a heart broken like
waterfalls crashing on rocks
summer evenings walking on warm cement
the photos that line the archways like
carefully paved cities
movie nights and homemade ice-cream
the shadows drawn on your back
honeysuckle vines choking red brick alleyways
the bike tyres dodging the gaps in the bridge
the rattling bones in my ear
pressed leaves in old phone books
long grass and white butterflies
your hands dancing like ribbons twirling in the wind
hot chips on the beach
when you spoke the words of your people
my shadowed eyes searching for visions
like forgotten flowers
scattered upon the aging stone
dressing the spirit in light
like a dress made of autumn silk
the happiness quest

We acknowledge One

I hear the tingling of tiny symbols
Silence broken through the echoes
I hear his voice join us
Its presence draped in green cloth

I smell incense and mint
Amongst the strands of my hair
I smell her tiring voice singing the Amen’s
The longing rises through her prayers

I see the break through the coloured glass
Light catches the dust not ready to fall
I see his spirit in their bodies
Harbouring an unwavering strength

I taste the trembling in the wooden bench
Bearing the weight of his love
I taste the hunger caught in the wanting
Desperation amongst their dying faith


I dedicate this to my Grandfather, the father and my grandmothers one love.  He has shown us all how to be better people, to live with integrity and I know he walks in us all.

The Leaving

Dear you
You didn’t kill the black cat
It was tangled with the black snake
You didn’t kill the black crow
It was tangled with the black cat
You didn’t kill the black dog
It was entangled in your

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

the falls

The below poem comes from two inspirations firstly from a poem by Borges called "My Whole Life", this inspired my friend Melanie to write her own version and can be read at 

This then inspired me to write my own version........

Here once again amongst the shadows of the past
I kept memories of the bushland that danced on the river’s edge
I have stood under towering metal and gazed at its breaking light
I have listened to words sung in places so divine
I have bathed under waters of paradise where sacred women now rest
I have sat with the pain stored in little boxes nestled in the dark
I have clutched at your hand as we exhaled summers breath
I believe the resting spirit will awaken

                when day pushes down night

Sunday, September 18, 2011


throw your heart through every open window