Saturday, December 19, 2020


It’s just a season good or bad
that comes and then it goes
and caught in the cycle we obey
whatever rules are laid out.

But then mid-way or at the beginning
a mighty struggle ensues
and who once a leader becomes a loser
and the old gives way to the new.

We can blame the season or leader now loser
who once in the task of growing up
caused an event that sapped his strength
at a time when most it was needed.

He doesn’t bend his head in shame,
he doesn’t wring his hands in grief,
and certainly no tears can fall
when evil is his saving grace.

Yes, evil applauds dastardly acts
and the one who caused his downfall
because evil’s not fussy as long as it lives
and as long as the people suffer.

But evil forgets it is just a season
and soon the season will change
and over the land one word will rebound
and that word is, of course, …

“Freedom, freedom!”

Thursday, December 10, 2020

Once ...


Once on a Sunday that lady believed
magic would manifest all of her dreams
and the sun shone on that day in between
the beginning and end of that Sunday that was.
She remembers well the heat of the day
and how blue the sky that captured her gaze
and as the leaves danced on each/every tree
she wondered what tune played only for them.
She listened because she too wished to dance
to celebrate fully her day of belief
but instead she sat still and breathed in the air
that surely held tunes she couldn’t yet hear.
And then the night fell; it kept falling, you know,
and blanketed out the sun, sky and trees.
to make her believe her day of belief
was plain and simply a dream.
But what held the dreams she certainly had
except that glorious day of belief
that weakened its grip and let them fly free
to perhaps manifest in some other time.
She waits and she waits and listens each day
for the music she couldn’t then hear
but she knows she will one Sunday in time
because days of belief don’t disappear.

Sunday, November 29, 2020



I’m fanning the air around wishes, needs,
to circulate what I put out
but how stupid is that when mind’s intact
and works with no electricity.
It’s not solar powered but yet needs fuel
brought up from the depths of desire
but you must understand life pollutes all
and makes wishes/needs ineffectual.
It’s not like life’s evil or bad
but simply slow to desist
from dropping my every wish 
into the dirt of its own agenda.
But one day, one day, life will believe
everything dropped must be picked up
so if I don’t fuel the fires of desire
my wishes and needs are disempowered.
And who would have thought a woman like me
would end up a stoker of fires
but it’s okay, you see, because I believe
one day that one day will come.

Saturday, June 27, 2020

Never thought …

And I never thought I’d know
of corruption, deceit and thievery
and yet here I am surrounded and embroiled
in the worst of them thrust on humankind.

It’s like the mindful tower I built
of all I thought was good and true
has fallen prey to despicable control
that toppled it to ground.

Of course I search amongst the rubble
for traces of the right and honourable
but all I find are dust particles
that ne’er again can be a whole.

It’s raining today and where sand now mud
that one day will bake in the sun of renewal
but those days are so very far off
that perhaps never in my lifetime.

But I’ll make my own tower again, again,
because all that I am and all I believe
can’t be destroyed by the hand of evil
so prevalent in these current times.

And so as I wait for the sun to come out
all I can do is design and refine
my blueprints of soul that allow me to know
but that block the infusion of iniquity!

Sunday, May 3, 2020

Before ...

Before the night claims my day
I think of words to say
that perhaps will aid and abet
the furtherance of love.

But then in the morning light
I come to the understanding
I need to grow and increase
my force and effect.

How tall, how big, how loud and dictatorial
and then I shrink with the knowing
the my hands are tied to the post
of plain and simply who I am.

I cannot shout from mountain tops
or dance the light fantastic
to the tune of all I know should be
or simply tell you quietly.

I am here and you are there
but before the day lays claim to night
I like to think that in that peaceful state
everyone is dancing to the tune of love.

I like to think but can it really be
when some don’t think to dance?

Tuesday, March 24, 2020


The air is fresh and clean
and that gypsy over yonder hill
stares up above in wonderment
because she knows that way up there
magic has been made and despatched.

She cannot see it, no, she can’t
and yet it’s real and tangible
deep in her heart that’s been dismayed
and sunken in despair.

For everything there is a time
and this her time to receive
and she will breathe the fresh clean air
in gratitude and thankfulness.

And that time to lose too far away
to spoil her happiness
and she dances as all gypsies do
deep in the essence of herself.

No argument, no, not one
that she is free to be
unencumbered by the grief
and agony, heartache.

Remember, remember,
everything must pass
but always there is magic
that will make it come again.

Remember, remember,
help her to remember!