I Want to Live Here

Maybe not ALL the time. But SOME of the time. I realise That I will never live in a lighthouse for a year or even a month Spending my days staring out to sea Scribbling poetry in tattered, stained notebooks Ignoring reality in my search for something real Something tangible, eternal Something I can hold

Leaving Sydney

A perfect summer night. Perfect for leaving. Perfect for staying. Perfect for seeing friends or making love or eating chocolate. A perfect night for dancing or dreaming or praying or playing. A perfect summer night. You can never have enough.

Seed Dreaming

I leaned in and gave this seed pod a bit of a cuddle. This is what it told me – I swear! And – for those keeping track – I know NONE of you are, but I am – this is the 200th picture poem! One every day since September! I am proud of me…