Motherhood

While waiting for her invitation

To The Mothering Squad

She dreams a little, and lives a little more.

She’s growing a heart so open

Love shines on through a granite mist

Digging out the darkness,

The despair that makes her sick.

She’s kneading early passions

To a strong and potent state

And devouring life’s temptations

Before she procreates.

She’s reading like a wildfire

With flames of curiosity

And running like a panther

Raw and wild and free.

She’s listening to her body

Her energy, her beat

So she can understand

Make strong, respect, replete.

And if the invitation never comes

Remains unwritten, gets waylaid
She’ll mourn a little, then live a little more.

My whole

There’s a home out there,
Waiting.

Where I belong,
All of me.

I’ll know when I’m there,

A pulsing love joins every cell.
Me, one with everything.

And in that place I breathe,
One energy, many souls, 
Together, softly spirited.

My heart takes root,
Secure as it feeds

A universal earthbeat.

Each dawn rise, 
Energised a new
Understood, healed, held.

There’s a home out there
Waiting,

Wanting,
All of me.

Disarm me, 2014

A wild ocean of loving kindness

Smiling eyes, seductive words

Laughter that roots in the belly

A free mind, chasing the heart
Curious, spirited, with intention

Connected to a playful purpose

A breath of energising still
Soulful strength, open heart
Beautifully disarming moments

A happy year of shared delight 

Family, friends, clients, strangers

Synergy, love, understanding.

It's bloody great to be here.

Being a woman

Being a woman
Is a marvellous thing

From our boobs to our fingers
And fairytale wings.

Dejá vous

Anger

That’s what I’m feeling

Rage at myself

For doing it again

My gut says I’m a tool

For his transition

A momentary pawn

To help him move on

Melancholy

That ache so familiar

Should I walk away

Or ride through the pain

So often that person

Helping another’s journey

What about mine

My needs realised

Foolish

That’s how I feel

Same old, same old

Dejá vous.

Waiting to donate

Red is blood.

Red is anger.

Red is passion.

Red is the pulse of life.

Heat, energy, drive, ambition,

Determination, confidence, power dressing.

Danger.

Adobe, Youtube, Virgin.

Costa, Heinz, Pinterest.

Coca Cola.

Strawberries,

Rioja,

Tomatoes,

Cochineal,

Tizer,

Steak done rare.

A searing pain, that’s what red is.

Sharp, and it leaves a stain.

That stain can last forever.

Red does damage.

Crimson, Scarlet, Monopoly.
Michael Hutchence.

Strength, get up and go, I don’t take no shit.

Don’t fuck with me, I’m red.

Labour, left wing, right wing, middle wing,

Nothing wing.

Wilson, Blair, Brown, Milliband.

Big, but not big enough.

Goodbye, it’s over.

Really over.

Kaput, the end.

No finale.

I don’t like red.
I never have.

It’s too much,
All garish, over confident.
Have you ever seen a mellow red?

But I reckon everyone,
However disparaging,
Owns at least one piece of red clothing.

Mine's a single pair of racy knickers,
For the days I want the balls of Coca Cola.

Filter

Behind every dawn
A death
A fading collection
Of lived in moments

Some disappear
Without thought
Sucked in by the dark
Blindly forgotten

Others tease
As fireflies in the night
Their manifestation
A chance unknown

The ubiquitous
Does the haunting
Creeping beneath
Midnight skin

Plucky kidnappers
Seize the spirit
With a vision
Of what might be

Glowing twinkles
From the day
Stars to carry
Through the next

The wise old soul
Singles out
Each night's treasure
For his waking.

Those Little Things

Blimey, it’s winter,

The nights have closed in,

And life seems that little bit tougher.

Now, where are those moments,

That make us go “Mmmm,

I like the dark damp cold.”

Try wrapping those arms,

Around a soul you love,

Feel the heartbeat of another.

Or step out the door,

And be with the earth

The racing pulse of our Mother.

Go watch the sea,

And run through the sand,

Breathe some life into your wings.

Spice up your dinner,

Make it warm, make it soft,

Enjoy the comfort it brings.

Feel the simple pleasure

Of sinking down

In a tub of bath time bliss.

Or sip on some red,

Some deep red wine,

That thaws our frosted lips.

Wish on a star,

Ask for those dreams,

Universe, send us what may.

Then tuck up early

Be in bed before nine

And let night fall away from the day.

This Happening

A man that brings out the quiet in me,

Did I even know there was a quiet there?

A peaceful, tranquilising calm

Sitting alongside a jungle rhythm of fever.

I know, I just know, this is going to be good

No insecurities, no need to fast track, no fear.

A sublime serenity that’s holding me close

Charging my ravenous, but satiated, soul.

I’m not seeing an end, some place to reach,

It’s the journey that’s stirring me deep

My heartbeat is speeding, a lightening ‘hello’

While knowing the pace is sound.

Alive, spirited, up there somewhere

Grounded, earthed, stable and whole.

It’s a wonderfully unfamiliar place I’m in
This happening that might just be home.

A place called home

A Photo

I wanted to be in it
They teased me
I'm in the background
Jumping in
Unwanted 
'And me' 
Became my nickname

My nickname
'And me'
They laughed
I cried
A stabbing symbol
Of my place 
In our family

My place
An unvisited
Suburbia
There
Very much There
But not Their
Sort of place.

The photo in sketch