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A fiercely gentle flame,

Not to scold but to hold,

Not to burn but to warm –

An old flame,

One that weathered the storm,

Ashes just beginning to appear

Somewhere among the embers,

Made up of things remembered,

Settling among stories, tributes and blame,

Did you ever hear the quiet roar of a single flame?

Did you ever think it such a shame,

That you didn’t get to hear it more often?

That the quiet roar could probably soften

Even the harshest blow,

As you thawed yourself in its auburn glow,

And added some kindling from your flammable soul,

Ignite the heart and let it roam


As it should be.

(c) All words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission

A Day Out

A Day Out

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An escape from the unceasing pressure,

To enjoy a whole day at leisure,

To savour the mouthful you didn’t cook,

Sit on a train and read a book,

To watch a weird and wonderful world go by,

So very many things to fantasize


On a nice day out:

What would it be like to put down roots here?

How would it feel if that man called you ‘dear’?

What became of the last person who didn’t mind the gap

Between the train and the platform’s edge?

What’s hiding behind that hedge?

And then there is so much to explore,

Brand new things to like,loathe or adore,

A vigorous workout for the senses,

A mini-break from all of life’s messes,

The thrill of being ever so slightly lost,

And the temptation to call your boss

And apologise but you’re not coming back,

You’ve started a new life 17 stops down the track,

But when the sun starts to fade,

All those dreamy plans you’ve made

Start wagging their fingers like a cross Aunt

Telling you reasons you shouldn’t and can’t,

So you pick up a trinket or two

To remind you of a very different you,

That you got to know for only a day,

And hope the memory will linger and stay

Because you much preferred her that way –

The me that you met for that day.

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(c) All words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission




She takes a cigarette from the elegant case

And inhales a bygone era and not just the taste,

The feather boa hanging over her bed,

Beckons Hollywood glamour into her head,

The faux fur jacket slung over one shoulder

Is the only thing around to hold her,

The individually hand-painted glass

Holds the liquid dreams of her past,

The fashionable boots on her tired feet

Help to make her feel a little more complete,

And her shiny new phone

Is her only link to an abandoned home.

(c) Words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission.


Wallflowers see everything but are rarely seen…It doesn’t make them any less splendid or bright just because nobody notices them though. In the same way that firework that goes off too late still creates the same magic and beauty as the ones in the display, wallflowers do too.


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I’m the tumbleweed

That blows through your village on Halloween,

I’m the firework that went off too late to be seen,

The magic that works behind the scenes,

The one that sells ice-creams in the intervals of your dreams.

I am the book nobody reads to the end,

I am the ‘not in need’ friend,

I am the anthem from someone else’s headphones,

The one you would have called on but didn’t think would be at home…

And I wasn’t but I was indoors on my own.

Nobody will notice but the sea,

When I blow away with the breeze

And take my notes back from the melody,

That nobody hears until I’ve gone –

A tuneless song.

Who was she?

That strange, quiet one?

(c) All words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission


Some things you just can’t talk about plainly. That’s the beauty of poetry. It’s the world’s most accomplished diplomat.








It’s not that you didn’t know

That it was all about to go


Show all

Not small

It snowballed

Hit a wall

One last call





What will it take to reveal those words?

Honest cloths polishing turds.

There was never any glamour

You never did clamour

For riches or bitches.

Were your stitches neat?

When you got beat?

Spy, lie, try, die, cry!


(C) All words and images belong to the owner and may not be reproduced without permission.

A Day in the Night of

A dreamy surreal recollection of a blurred connection on an astral plane as night drifted into morning.

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A Day in the Night of…

She muttered some clutter into his dreams

And tiptoed amongst eggshells split at the seams,

Empty and purged of their cargo

They knew how far to go

To make things new and right.

And he slept on through the light –

The dawn chorus his lullabies,

Seeing the world clearly through shut eyes,

Soul and spirit mischievous spies

Eager to see his journey unfold,

Desperate to hear what truths he’d be told.

He delighted in the golden respite,

While she rid herself of all that might

Hold her hostage.

Every last ounce of rottage:

The terrible lies

The sleepless nights

The flashbacks and knives

The untimely deaths

The self imposed punishments

The poison ingested

The rats that infested

The twice flooded cottage.

The half felt loves

And wholly ruinous catastrophes,

And she muttered as she stitched in the clutter at the seams,

Working away to mend broken dreams.

And he slept on through the light

And she became free.

(c) All words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission

Brazen Waves

My first offering – a poem I wrote some time ago about something that plays a hugely significant role in my life – the ocean. As a teenager, I always dreamed of living somewhere where I had the ocean right on my doorstep – one of my dreams that I eventually did make a reality.

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Brazen Waves

I love it when it’s stormy

And the sea vomits on the shore,

Touting all its treasures

Like a kleptomaniac whore:

A mermaid’s purse,

A gentleman’s shoe,

The crumbs of a ship

And splinters of the crew.

A life rinsed away,

A heartbreak on a wave,

An ocean so brazen,

One to brave and never save.

(c) All words and images belong to the original artist and may not be reproduced without permission