As my light becomes dark

I intertwine my words and vision into woven light

Friday, January 27, 2012


I need
To smile
I need
My freedom
I need
A full heart
I need
Bright light
I need
Life’s inspiration
I need
Your acceptance
I need
A silent heart
I need
Falling leaves
I need
Calm movement
I need
New music
I need
To dream
I need
To believe
I need
To be touched
I need
New words
I need
A free mind

I want
Your love

Thursday, January 26, 2012

little snippets cinquain style poetry

Who hear
Will feel beauty
The light from within
The glowing radiance will

Means nothing
Without trusted ears
An open heart wont

Open slightly
The emerging beauty
Waits with patience for

Does vanish
And freedom escapes
And takes to flight

Is crushed
When one believes
Those invisible boundaries will

Can pass
Minutes stand fixed
As time falls fast

Mother Natures Dance

Today I sat underneath an aging spread of European elm trees with my beautiful friend Melanie, trams rattled past in the background, the smell of dust and damp leaves rose between us, boys rode on bikes, kids played in the park, old men strolled through the aging Edinburgh Gardens, the blue of the sky was broken by the white of the clouds and the warmth of the sun.   I know this moment was meant for us because to the naked eye these could have been trees just losing their leaves.  But to us it was like we were being showered in floating flecks of gold, each leaf twirled spiraling downward and toward us, the breeze was like music for the trees and they danced, showering us with golden leaves.   Below I have written a piece of poetry about this moment, called Mother Natures Dance.  

Thanks Melanie, for sharing a pure moment of nature showing its true and wondrous self.  I would not have wanted to share this with anyone else, you reminded me how each leaf was a singular moment of joy to be held onto forever.

for Melanie

 With you
I watched gold fall from the branches
Gravity pulled us down
And below the falling leaves
Our spirits were released
I saw the sun catch our hearts
As the wind caught my gaze
And I found floating in the dust
What I wasn’t looking for
I held tight to the stars rising in my throat
Hope washing over my darkness
With you
The leaves did fall
And with you the perfect moment
Fell between us

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

for the weak

                The rock with the hidden key
                The dream talking to the night
                The fragrance caught in the cupboard
                The song humming endless dreams
                The bird trembling in the rising ash
                The knowing drawn on the broken glass
                The past caught in the child’s tears
                The love cursed by devil tucked up my sleeve

Strawberry Picking

The underside of my inside
Is stuck between the release
Of breath that carries me forward
To whispers of my running feet
Echoed in the steps of the lyrebird

I fell in love with the current
Caught in your beat
And my heart fumbles
With your northerly wind
Bottled in the glass on the golden ledge

The crack opens oozing light from your pores
And the sunflowers kiss the morning sky
As ghosts burst in my eyes
Scattering the fear of broken dreams
Across your blue that calls for me

Monday, January 16, 2012


4am wide awake 4am the sky won't shift 4am the heart does speak 4am you hear the fall 4am it knows you hear 4am no dreams to catch 4am a time to fight 4am 4am

Sunday, January 15, 2012


The song is not mine
closing my eyes
feeling trapped in
the shards of a
broken song
the blind mans stick
worn from seeing
his vision deeper
than mine
my ticket
only rides the one

Saturday, January 14, 2012

dream january 9

Crickets chirping
As the breath slowly exhales
Street lights flicker
Like broken images in the reflecting glass

You whisper into the night
To never forget this darkness
That is draped like crushed velvet
Across the night
And the thought
This darkness is the reminder you will never shift

Sunday, January 8, 2012

the crying birds

2012 meets me with surprise, 2012 meets me with words, 2012 meets me

the crying birds
sung for the fallen one
that dropped from the moon’s eye
dressed in plain clothes
their wails filled the morning sky
dreams meet dawn’s first glance
like the fallen wings on my windowsill