Thursday, 22 January 2015

I'll wait. I'll wait with my heart in my hand.
I'll wait. 
I'll wait.

And 
Then
One day I won't.

And that'll be the day you turn and stumble in your haste to get to me.

But I will have gone.
Faded into my own life.
No longer waiting to hand you my heart.
It'll be back in my chest and I will be marching to my own beat
Not yours. 
And you won't find me. 
You will skin your knees and hear the whispered echo of my beat.


Monday, 19 January 2015

A Box Of Sunlight - a poem

For Grifball. 
Because you asked.
 And my brain wouldn't let me sleep until I wrote it.


A box of sunlight

He asked for a box of sunlight, and, in time she sent him a box
wrapped in gold and shimmer. He opened it and found it black
with a circle of yellow, words filling it...

If I could believe in angels, I would ask to borrow their wings,
and as we passed the sun, I would reach for the light -
burning my fingers - to trap it, and its heat, in a box, for you

But I am doubt-tethered to this earth, and can only promise you a season of sunlight.
If you are able to pass through the darkness that surrounds you,
and carry that which weighs down on you.
In return I will send the Summer

It's the only way I know how to keep the sun - by losing it
in the snowy nights, and weeks of grey. To earn it
by marveling at the frost and the beauty of its cold embrace

Sunlight will return to you, so bright your eyes will tear and shine
and you will marvel at the heat - and in turn, I will ask for it back
and you will say, with burnt fingers, that it cannot be boxed -
it can only be earned by finding the beauty in its absence.

Thursday, 1 January 2015

2015


This is not a list of aims or ambitions.
This is not a list of resolutions.
This is a reminder of what I'm starting the year with, hopefully I'll get to the end of the year with more than I start with. If I don't I'm still winning.

Hope
Choices
Fantastic friends
A great job
The best son in the world
A car that works
A home that keeps us warm and dry
The ability to cook
An eclectic taste in music, food and clothing
A belief in the good of people
Trust in fate and karma
A little money saved
A beloved family
Support
Love
A good sense of humour
Time to myself

Friday, 26 December 2014

festive

I love fairy lights and spoiling people I love. I love the magic and the tinsel. I love the sound of church bells at midnight and the smell of cinnamon and incense. 

I love the smiles on happy faces and the sounds of laughter at stupid cracker jokes. I love family recipes and traditions, old and new. 

I love the carnage of paper, the smell of new books and lego. I love the sound of the skype ring tone.

I miss the people I can't be with. I ache for those who have passed on. I feel the gaping hole left because I live here and my family do not. I miss what it was.

I cherish those who understand and make it a little easier. A message here, a skype call there. A quiet hug and a simple nod of empathy. I cherish those moments stolen from their busy days and families to let me know that my family is global. My choices haven't been for naught. 

I thank the universe for Monkey. For his presence is the best gift on any day but especially on Christmas.

If your Christmas has been hard - I send you spoons... 

Tuesday, 23 December 2014

Moral Compass

my compass is broken, she whispered 
you became north, 
he rolled onto his back, 
pulling her with him

for tonight you're my north too, 
his voice followed his hands down her spine
together we'll find our way back
to the map, to the true north
but for tonight, we are all we need

her hands caught on his buttons,
because we can't have what we want, 
she sighed, sometimes it's not even on the map;
so we make do with what we find

because our compasses break,
in the loneliness of the late night

Sunday, 21 December 2014

Musical meandering

I'm finding it hard to choose the right words recently. The ones I find seem sluggish and stale. Overused and ugly. But lyrics still get me... I still feel them running under my skin even when I'm so tightly wound that I feel like I could snap. I'm always grateful for the borrowed words and more easily captured emotions. They become more tangible. More manageable.

 





Tell me the words you long to hear
And I'll sing them loud and clear
Let me heal the wounds you've held on to for all these years
Break the cycle
Break the chains
'Cause love is louder than all your pain
Than all your pain

Tuesday, 16 December 2014

twelve years ago, under African sun,
I sweated under layers of fabric,
not quite white, I wasn't one to lie,
I sweated under the layers of responsibility
and the layers of shoulds, coulds and woulds

two years ago, under African rain,
I danced in the puddles,
flowers in my hair,
I sweated under the layers of responsibility
and the layers of shoulds, coulds and woulds

twelve hours ago, under timed lights,
I sweated under the pressure of trying to sink the ball,
laughing til I cried at crude jokes,
scattered amongst serious discussions on patriarchy
and the layers of shoulds, coulds and woulds
seemed to become what ifs...

Sunday, 7 December 2014

Southerly

it blew straight down the white line,
a southerly, biting through the should-be-summer sun
wrapped itself around them, drawing them closer
shorts and t-shirts, not enough to keep them warm
a summer time matchmaker, he took her in his arms
waiting for the bus home from the beach
watching the wind blow the sand down the street
feeling her warmth against his chest,
pulling him into the present
the cold on his back a reminder of winter
and the loneliness of it.

Sunday, 30 November 2014

Bullshit Diet - poem

Spoon by spoon they fed her the words
small snippets of truth wrapped in white lies
they waited for her to believe the words
to just swallow them, to let them become part of her

but she couldn't because she was on a diet.

Wednesday, 26 November 2014

In Memory of Asphalt

Especially in the heat of the rocks and the breaking of the waves.
And in the sway of the ships at dock, and the sound of wheels on asphalt.
In the smell of coffee and cut grass, you are there.
Your voice echoes in the empty moments of my day
Those moments when I forget to forget you
Especially in the taste of sweat and salt
In the heat of the rocks and the sound of wheels on asphalt
You're more than a memory.