Homeless Friend

If I tell you life is a joy
Would you see right through me?
If I tell you life is easy
Would you believe me?
If I said I’m not hungry, you go ahead
Would you leave me instantly?
What if I were to shiver in front of you
Would you think I’m fine?
Or were I to cry, like a child in your arm
Would you think I’m melodramatic?
Or what if I knock on your door at night, disheveled and sick
Would you peer out waiting for me to leave?

Until you’ve been in my shoes
my dear who call yourself a friend
you can not know what is in me that breaks
knowing that all those times you smile
we’re fake.
Your privileged life
healthy, wealthy and wise
I dare not dream would ever be mine
so kindly do continue to do what you will
if ever your were to be left hungry,
without home, warmth of clothes, or sick and broken hearted
I’ll be here.
You’re sincerely.


I can’t think of anything
anything better than cool lemonade
under the bleary summer sun
or the ice cream melting faster than you can lick
sweet, sticky
the gritty sand beneath your heating body
or a dip in the lagoon blue sea
the waves pushing and tempting
that breeze brushing your sweltering skin
breathing some life back into it
and you sit, satisfied on the patio in the evening
watching the sky splash pink
the flock of birds rising
feeling the day unwind
with the mysterious chirps of crickets
the lazy pursuit of darkness
bathing in the dusk light
these summer days
that linger.

Vampire Days

I’ve never done any supernatural theme before. Here is my first crack at it in the poetry.

Vampire Days

Up on the terra-cotta old roof
with its spindly towers of darkness and doom
where the forest thick surrounded
perhaps an attempt at banishing
the haunt of an old soul lingering
– a place forbidden
and over time slipped into the pages of the books
where the birds and animals dared not traverse
and the moon was the only companion
there upon that terra-cotta roof
with its broken and weathered tiles
sat a figure lonely and still
he gazed upon the moon and made a wish
that enough he had of this loneliness
– he wished upon the clear moon
that tomorrow may the world end
– or at least send a friend
– for centuries he hadn’t uttered
nor barred his teeth into flesh
why else would the forest dare
to swallow his place whole
if he hadn’t allowed it to imprison him so.

Preamble love

Fleeting floating
teases the boundaries ever
gloating giddy
tempting a chance to once again be
stunned shunned
the love that once was
fearing flinching
preamble, this calls for
thanking thawing
the delicate balance struck
one must move on
gracefully gratuitously
so something new can birth
give another a chance at love

I know nothing of ballads

I know nothing of ballads
nor rhymes or rhythm
to sing a note
or follow a tune
of music and musings
are rare and few
I know nothing of the moon
nor the tides to pull
heartstrings a few
I know not my right foot from left
and of dancing
akin to drunkenness
of romance and gentlemen’s way
I know not what is wooing
or how to even do it
but dear
all I know is
I cannot go a day
without greeting you
without thinking how happy you’d be making
with just by being you.
I know not of ballads,
nor the power of pretty flowers.
My dear all I know
that the day is fairly bare without just a simple glimpse of you.
I know not how to sing to you.

Seasons forgot to turn

Peculiarly it seemed
the seasons forgot to turn
the trees stood bewildered
shaking there branches and twigs
watching, waiting for their leaves to fall
the flowers turned their petals out
reaching towards the sun
astounded they did not wilt, nor lose there scent
the birds chirped excited, turning their heads to the horizon
what in the world was happening here
the rivers swelled and gurgled along
nourishing the soil they touched
and instead of frost, pollen fled and floated
streaming down onto the land,
birds and bees and all that’s there looked on
all their heads turned
they watched in silent inquisitive
as the sun lingered on
and the white cotton clouds rolled on.
The trees shook their branches.
Why had the seasons stopped and forgot to turn?
Peculiar it seemed, though life moved on.

The wind was calling her name

She sat on the wide window sill
soaking the mild winter’s sun
the cobalt path littered with piles of snow
and as the wind blew
she couldn’t help but hear a calling
as if from miles away
a voice unpinned echoing, cooing in her ears
the door opened beside her and her father popped his head
‘Dear, you better get in here before the gale takes you away.’
She nodded with a smile
and stayed there a longer while
something in her deep soul stirring
longing for land far away
she could hear its calling,
thus she stayed, waiting against the wind
‘Where?’ she whispered
stretching her face into the swirling voices
‘Away’ in a whisper it said,
‘Away, my darling I wait.’
She turned to the door and stared,
and slowly peeled herself away.
The wind was calling her name.


There, time saw vulturous circling
in the lagoon blue sky
clear sunlight
burning the depth of skin
it used to be where shyness was instilled
humble bone deep
and tendons flexing and careful
suddenly fame clamored
over the walls built
in delirious moment believing
all was made of gold
walking over dunes sweltering, glittering
unaware how far a distance been
and as the sun dips exhausted
the plummeting of degrees
you open your eyes
and hear the satiated squawk
to see skin stripped to bone
and know the scavengers had closed in.

She’d be whole

She reached up
and parted the curtains
and there amongst the pillows of clouds
nestled the glowing full moon
she longed to hold on to this moment
she had so few left as it was
perhaps on the roof she should sneak again
She turned and stared at the tempting door
it was as good a night as any
she wheeled herself away
to sing beneath the open sky
let the memories and melody flood her
and for a moment she may even sway
and pretend that she was well again
she’d hear his voice
feel the kiss as the wind blew by
and in that moment she’d be whole.

Blind wandering

May I ask you a question love
will you answer truthfully?
That of this world I cannot see
What be colours pray
How do they dazzle thee?
I hear they speak of feelings
Tell me of the cities you’ve seen
The roads you’ve travelled
and the seasons you’ve felt
Pray tell me about the world
So through your eyes I can breathe
a new image to this place of my wandering.