Sunday, 21 September 2014


i utter the banalities of a civilised society
ingrained and indoctrinated from day one
i open my mouth and tell another socially sanctified lie

your eyes harden briefly
or sometimes you frown a little
as if you recognise the lie
but then you smile and nod

and we continue to dance the dance
as is proper and seemly
in a way that doesn't ruffle feathers
because we are well trained
and we know our place

Saturday, 20 September 2014

Visual - poem


If I close my eyes, I can see the lights
Between the trees on a cloudless night
I can feel the warmth of the car,
a metal cocoon, a beating heart
which holds them and me apart
Which keeps the fear far
From my mind and calms me
A rare visual memory

Tuesday, 2 September 2014

it would

it would start with your hand on my hair
your voice in my ear
your breath on my cheek

you'd whisper words
i'd remember at 3am on wednesday
but right then i'd hear my heart racing

you would pull me closer
into your warmth, into you
i'd feel your chest on mine

my breath would catch - 
caught in the movement of our bodies
as your mouth brushed mine

it would end when I stared into your eyes
your taste in my mouth
and your name in my heart

Where I am...

I'm in Dunedin this week. I've started a new role and they're trying to make my head explode train me alongside the other six people filling the role around New Zealand. It's quite a transition from mum to service provider approach enabler liaison.

As you can tell I'm only on day 1 and as the facilitator said today - "It's amazing how none of you know exactly what your role entails and have no idea how to fulfill it, but you're all here and you've all voiced your fears about it AND you're ALL STILL HERE. Crazy brave!" 

It's an insane learning curve and it's a daunting greenfields role so if I'm quiet it's because I'm hiding somewhere.

Saturday, 30 August 2014

A Night With Me and Pinot Gris.-

Not a bad drunk selfie!
A Night With Me and Pinot Gris.

words poured into my glass again
as quickly - my words poured between my lips
they became clearer and harder to hold in my heart
as more words flowed from the second bottle
last night my words tasted like fruity wine
last night my words would have gone well with seafood or Asian food
instead they poured into the room, onto a screen
they promised more than they should have
they shared more than they needed to
but they mixed well in my glass
and with the laughter and
with the tears
the words hold hope and desires
ones that have never been said before
and those that have been hidden behind the smiles
and reassurances of not rocking the boat

i hear them today, the light words that floated free
and i feel those that were too heavy to leave the glass
and i love that they're out now.
i love that a night of pinot gris means you know me.

Saturday, 23 August 2014

Past Remembering video.

Last night was the annual poetry competition at our local library. I was in the top 9 finalists from a pool of 180 entries. It's always daunting reading my work. Put me in front of an audience and it's even worse. Thank goodness there were a few friendly faces in the audience and a shared bottle of Pinot Gris. 

 I enjoyed reading the poem and managed to not swallow too many words. When I got back to my seat I was told I was filmed...

When you have a friend who creates music videos and television ads for a living, I suppose you should expect to have your poetry reading filmed. Sadly for me but luckily for you - here I am in all my poetic glory.

Friday, 22 August 2014

Past Remembering - competition poem.

Past Remembering

All I know about your time in italy is this -
your teeth were not lost there, that came after,
or so I was told when I was six waiting to swim
- but your leg was left there somewhere -
and you hopped into the tidal pool.

but we were never to ask you about it
because you wouldn’t talk about italy
or the war or your friends left there
or about why you fitted two school years into one
to be able to fight for the home of your father
the home you’d never seen

we weren’t to ask you about what had been
what made you walk for hours on crutches
to remember what walking was like before you left
we were told to hush now
because it was past remembering
no one needed to be reminded of the things they did
in the name of a country you’d never visited.

Yesterday - national poetry day.


You belong in my yesterdays,
the darkened recesses of times past.
in the pale reflections of what i believed was real
in the echoes of conversations dredged up
as I look for a photograph or an analogy
to share with those that remained
those that waited
those that stayed

You belong in my yesterdays,
in the places i forgot i visited
with the people i forgot i knew
once you stay there, today is clearer
tomorrow is mine forever
and for those who waited
and for those who stayed.

Monday, 11 August 2014

Untitled, about you.

do you ever write about me?
the question hangs there
over my head and i wait for it to fall, gallows-quick
my mouth opens and the words no, never, why and which one did you read?
tumble out one after the other as my heart yells
In everything there is a part of you
your voice, slow and patient, angry and quick
your smile - tempting and enticing
the curve of your hip, the way your skin looks in the sunlight
they find their way into my words
they are a part of me, of you

Yes, again, yes
in every line there is a piece of you
that thing you did last tuesday that pissed me off
the time you cupped my face in your hand
the way your hand moves when you think I'm driving badly
your sigh when you taste your first sip of a good coffee
they're always in my words

And yes, yes,
sometimes you will know it's you
sometimes you will think it's him or her or them
and sometimes you'll be right
and sometimes it will be about a man on a bike in the rain
or a girl I saw on a bus by the sea.

And I will always worry that you'll recognise yourself in the one that
breaks your heart or makes you angry
or worse, that you'll see him in the one you love
or the one that was always meant for you.