Category Archives: Poetry

Wake up!




Wake up


World shakers,

oppose injustice and oppression.

Weapons of mass compassion

seem useless in this turmoil.


Wake up.

The Spirit is calling us.

Wake up, children.

Resist the comfort,

seek out the awkward,

uncomfortable moments.


Do not throw

first stones.

Feel the heaviness.

Feel the prejudice.


on the sand-drawn line.

Don’t be a barrier;

Be a safety net.


Our home,

not here,

not condemned,

not forgotten.

Wake up.

Shake history;

Be planet changers.


Wake up.

Boldness strikes like a lion.

Do not stalk mistakes,

but be courageous

against the

wrong of the world.


The earth absorbs

our tears.

Plant in the sorrow

of today;

Buds bloom tomorrow.

It is time;

a new season is upon us.

We are here

for such a time as this.


Undo the shame

Bend on one knee





Breathe in the Spirit;

Breathe out justice.

Show the Way,

Speak Truth,

Give Life.


Wake up

hear THE roar.

Wake up

see THE kingdom.


Build it here

amongst uncertainty.

Lift the Cornerstone,

build the foundation.

Don’t let it fall

between screams of hatred.


Be hands and feet

of Jesus,

but don’t carry the nails.

Let hatred stay

in the piercings

of the Cross.

There is no place here

for darkness.

Victory lives.


Wake up

our anthem,

mantra of existence.

Don’t stand for something

less than our destiny:

We are all


sons and daughters;

We are all


images of God.


Wake up.


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Posted by on June 2, 2020 in Poetry, Writing


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Broken Seashells

Broken Seashells





Broken seashell on the surface

I don’t want to be a burden

But may I sit with you

And listen to your story?


You tell me of your grand adventures

And how amazing the world was

You tell me of how you were called beautiful

And many would admire you 

You tell me how storms would hit you and at first it was okay

But then the storms kept coming and battered you until you broke

You tell me how that first piece that broke off tore your life apart

And how it made the storms harder to withstand so eventually you gave up

You tell me how you let the current take your broken self

And landed on this beach with other broken shells

You tell me how the number of broken shells surprised you

But then remembered how you came to be

You tell me how so many would walk down the beach looking for beautiful shells

And you were never picked

You tell me how you wanted to be in a jar

A symbol of worthiness and beauty. 

You tell me how you longed to be seen

You tell me how you sank into the sand to be forgotten 


Well, my friend, you are not forgotten. I see you.

I do not see your brokenness but a journey.

I do not see your ugliness but your character.

I hear you. I hear the joy you experienced and the pain you suffered.

I hear the defeat in your voice and longing to be wanted. 

I am here to tell you, broken shell, that you are beautiful and wanted.

Come with me and share your story with the world. You are worthy.



Dedicated to the broken shells in the world: you are beautiful, you are wanted… you are worthy.

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Posted by on May 10, 2020 in Poetry, Writing


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Hey Blue Bird

Hey blue bird,
My friend
You return to me
skipping and twirling
Between air and earth,
taunting, alluring,
creature of sky and ground.
You have no sound
except for your soul’s other
heard across heart planes.
Your delicate body renders
powerful strides
accurate and precise
Flying through the sky.

Hey blue bird
do you see
the beauty
you give to me
In this world?
A moment to forget
loneliness and regret,
consuming my warmth.
Your cheer
provides me
Simplicity of life
Serenity of my
existence and being.
Who other than you?

My friend,
seen and unseen
Freely lighting
Red footsteps on earth
following you
Blue wings twirl
flitting through air
as each pair
cut space and time
Warmth and light
Ever intertwined
Connect one another
Red and blue
and blue and red
Warmth and light
Air and earth
Can we discover
our existence through
each other?

Hey blue bird don’t go.
I don’t want to return,
looking at the greyness of people.
The hues of your wings
lift the heaviness of my soul.
Allow me to escape
into your world of colour.

Will you let me, My Friend,

Dance on your blue feathers again?

Blue Wren

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Posted by on March 13, 2018 in Poetry, Writing


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Pretty Little Fool


Some say I am a fool

A foolish little girl

That I live in a dreamland

High in the clouds


Some say I am a fool

A foolish little girl

Too young and naive to know

Sheltered from the world


Some say I am a fool

A foolish little girl

With feet above the ground

And a head beneath the sand


Some say I am a fool

A foolish little girl

Who doesn’t know real life

The pain and deceit of people


Read the rest of this entry »

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Posted by on April 13, 2017 in Poetry, Writing


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Do you have a Plan B?

Sprinkle on satin petals and

    be Reborn in my solitude

No darkness can cover you from my eyes


I’m breathing for you.

                Shallow disregard,

They are blind to the beauty of your spirit

                Free me.

                                                Taste me.

You are imprinted on my mind

The heaviness of your question

                                bleeds into my heart

A new dawn to be your Plan B

                Leap, you say…


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Posted by on September 24, 2015 in Poetry, Stream of Consciousness


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I am Forever Coffee-Stained by You

The sun-scorched milk swirls like the sands of time: bubbling and changing, dancing among the microscopic grains of glass.

I tiptoe upon each piece, careful not to fall into the wrong color, stepping and twirling with the ever-changing bronze. My golden hair swooshes around, growing until it blends with the frothy milk.

The tans and browns continue to change into each other until another element is added, which glorifies each grain and magnifies its marvel. I stop, stunned by the sun’s reflection, and think of you. The swirls – golden and tawny – slip through my fingers, flowing flawlessly away.

Is that where you are? Floating beautifully away from me?

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Posted by on June 30, 2015 in Poetry, Stream of Consciousness, Writing


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Do you ever just listen to the organ at the beginning of some songs? Do you ever listen to that humming, melodic synthesizer and close your eyes to think about life?

Listen to it now…

Sometimes it’s the silence that inspires, the wordless that motivates, and the simplicity of fading into oblivion that breaks us down.

Do you hear the nothingness that surrounds us? The endlessness of everything?

What happens to the blackhole that is my soul? My emotional eradication?

Will I sink below the waves or walk upon the waters? They appear calm and yet twist into ugly subways made only for those with gills.

Why do we dream of the apocalyptic desolation? Are we walking blackholes, sucking up everything in a determination to destroy?

Can this really be it? Does everything we work for end up being an epiphany of foolishness?

I wander…

yet I wonder…

Do you hear that melodic synthesizer humming to your heartsong?


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Fragrant Memories (first draft)

Wisps of fragrant memories,
comfortable homesickness,
wrapped in the embrace of the chill.
Shiver, sweet child, for the desired recalls you smell
What will come of this
heartbroken happiness?
Lie, if you must.
Lie with your mind, adultery in hand and awaken the spirit of a child.
Your blissful ignorance
will comfort you into
a consuming meditation.
Beware, the blood calls.
Unwrap you mind and hand
your thoughts over to the vulnerability of your destiny.
It is you they choose.
Child of mine, be lulled by the serenade
that surrounds
The knowledge can kill but hope
will awaken with a cry
Be not forgotten or begotten to the mystery.
Thrive within yourself in order to burst forth
from slumber.
Be brave, my phoenix, and rise to your role;
Let not that which you fear neither consume nor destroy you.
Heed the greatness you carry and
remember all of whom carry this power that follows
like a forest covering her saplings from the wind.

Go forth, my lovely, begin your steps of prophecy.

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Posted by on August 13, 2014 in Poetry


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Sounds of the City

A man, dressed in sweats, plays the violin in the pedestrian tunnel…
A woman’s heels are like the horses on Flinders, with too many plumes on their heads…
Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.
The soft hum of the train squeaks to life as it begins to move…
Inch by Inch.
The distant people move in herds, bathed in boredom…
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Posted by on March 16, 2013 in Poetry, Writing


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Sunrise for Me

Sunrise for me
my sweet love
for today is a new day.
Steadfast is our love
for patience has no limit
no clock.
Father Time cannot deny us
our reward
our destiny
to hold each other in our arms.
Fate will not be so cruel
to ignore our existing devotion
to one another.
Sunrise for me
my world
my universe
so that our love will be
rewarded a new and glorious day.
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Posted by on January 28, 2013 in Poetry, Writing


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