My Silent Love

Reverently, she holds me dear,

Soft, sweet, her gentle caress.

Dancing, twirling, through silken air,

My silent love: perfect, no less.

Her heart, soul, pouring through me,

Kindling my burning desire,

And at the slightest touch of her lips,

Her kiss, this humble spark: a fire.

Amongst all other she chooses me,

Again and again and again,

From long cold nights, come morning light,

Her warmth, my silent haven.

Until she rips me limb by limb,

Her ink-stained fingers: cold, cruel.

Oblivious to my painful plight:

Silence greets this simple tool.

And as my life-blood drains away,

Fading, slowly running out.

My last page, I’ll ever write.

To the very end, ever devout.


The family gathers when darkness reigns,

The herd shelters against fierce rains,

Drawing in warmth, love, light,

Comforting each other throughout the night.

The strength of unity, powerful, pure,

Peace: the truest, simplest cure

to poverty, violence, hatred, fear.

A world freed of war’s callous sneer.

Freedom to grow, to flourish, to thrive,

Abounding in wealth, a society alive,

Trapped no longer by fear’s cruel cage,

Peace: an old dream, brought to a new age.

Respect between each, our foes no more,

Recompense for what lacked before,

Arms welcome, where once we had weapons,

A world of peace, this new hope beckons.

And in this future, gold and bright,

Together we’ll stand, our mistakes put right.

Courage and compassion, no voice too small,

Harmony, freedom, peace for us all.

My Love For You

My darling, my love,

Whose rapturous words ensnare me,

Bound eternal by your touch,

Your kiss, your love.

In all the heavens,

There is no other:

No brighter star to light my life,

No brighter sun to warm my heart.

Weightless, in your embrace,

The soft caress of your soul,

As from deep within me

something rises, surfacing from the depths,

Swanlike as it takes to wing,

Reaching for freedom in this dark cage:

To you.

To your love.

To your heart.

My love, to you.


Dancing frills and decadent hems,

Delicious treats and delicate morsels,

Dainty heels and diamanté jewels,

Dreary speeches and deafening noise,

Demure professors and daring youths,

Delightful gifts and dramatic pauses,

Dazzling displays and a divine evening,

Una festa, celebration of success.

The Singing City

Fragrant mist, exotic in array,

Stealing into the sun’s eyes,

Lighting the hot, humid morning.

A continental, oriental surprise,

Wild and charming, fresh and splinted.

Jungle spirits, lazing bonsais: refreshing.

From the flat white high-rises,

Guarding the trafficked sky.

A conglomeration of cultures,

A hubbub of languages in centrality,

Globally renowned and utterly deserved.

For reasons unfathomable in this rich foreignness,

Here I feel at home. Here I feel free.

Lilac Rain

Spring. Violet.

In the late blooming,

The rain falls.


Lilac, soft, dieing.

But not before,

The Earth receives,

A dusting of beauty.

Sweet caress:

Her silken blanket.

Painted Silks

Delicate silks, decorated in gleeful colours,

A stark contrast to the soft dark light.

Filtering through dense, lush and black wings.

Or not. The master of disguise, dead to the world,

Hidden under trails , tunnels, reflecting,

The wonder of the watcher, beaded and glistening,

The heat, encompassing, revives the soul.

And the painted silks, floating in bliss,

Come to rest against our humble skin.

Hit and Run

I looked behind me once.

Amongst the dusty haze I saw,

Not a single soul for miles.

Satisfied, my solitude, I returned:

Back to my sheltered sanctuary.

How was it that you were there?

Waiting for me where I thought I was alone.

I thought I knew my own self,

Before I met you.

You have forced me to rewrite myself:

Redefine my concrete laws,

Make room for this phenomenon.

And without even a passing glance,

You left.

And I, alone. Again.

Freshly stripped of my protective shell,

The precious cocoon I spun so lovingly:

Bare to the elements again.

The scouring wind and the choking dust.

But the pain that burns the most:

You never even knew.

The Black Holes of Earth

Scream, hard as you can – they can’t hear you.

Cry all of your tears – they won’t see you.

Fight with all of your might – it won’t touch them.

The war is inside, the turbulent turmoil, turning,

Over, and over, and over, and over,

Bubbling, boiling, bristling, burning –

Until you can’t take it anymore.

Then you take some more.

Another minute. Another hour. Another day.

Endless rage, toppling in on itself, twisting, squirming, writhing.

Crawling up your throat, your lungs, suffocating.

Squeezing, pressing painfully around limbs – squishing you into a tight ball.

People wish they could crawl into a hole and cry. Or die.

Pity we, the black holes of Earth, pent up,

condensed so much that the very fabric of reality crushes about us.

The infinity of reality passes by – agonizingly slowly.

I can’t stand it any longer.

But I do.

Festering, shrieking, dying a small part each day –

But I’m not, am I? Because I’m still breathing. Just.

Frozen in a state of perpetual death, unceasing, relentless.

Trapped in a never-ending prison,

Tormented by the sound of my own insanity,

my own misery, my own tragedy.

Please end this brutality, this totality.

Set me free to fly, weightless, unhindered towards the stars.