I'm Issy.
I'm 14 and an aspiring artist and author.
Black Lives matter.
Bi puns
Murder mystery TV shows
Shakespeare poetry
I can't even be bothered writing them all down
Have a nice day

Message from Writer

Remember to write even if you think you are bad at it, you're not

Check out my amazing WTW friend Ava Marie!

Please read The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee, it is seriously amazing. I also recommend The Candy Makers by Wendy Mass, and anything by Becky Albertalli.

If you wanna chat or do review for review comment on one of my pieces :)

You are all amazing and fanatstic have a nice day take care of yourself you are loved!! :)

Published Work

The Girl (Name ideas?)

The girl stepped of the train. Her shoulder length nut brown hair was supposed to be tied in a ponytail, but the fly-aways apparently hadn't gotten the memo. She wasn't the kind of person you look at twice on the street; her denim jeans and grey blouse were pretty, but not striking, and her tired tense face gave the message that she wanted to be left alone. Most of the train ride the carraige had been almost empty, the only other passenger being an elderly man who apparently couldn't hear the forboding scraping sound coming from the end of the carraige that had driven away all but the most desperate or blissfully ignorant. 
    As the 17-year-old stepped onto the platform a gust of wind tore her hair free and tossed the navy notebook to the ground. It skidded along the concrete and came to a stop for a minute. The girl leaned down to reach for it, grasping...

You Are My Stars

The world is a dark alleyway 
Just before dawn 
These trees that used to guard us 
They've turned to ghosts 
The world is the rays of the sun 
Beating down on the fields 
Where we used to run 
You and me 
We just didn't know it yet
I'd hate to use too many metaphors 
Like a cliche novel 
A perfect love story 
You're not a lighthouse guiding me 
You're just there. 
Always there. 
The world is destruction 
Crashing waves on the shore 
Where we used to walk 
We just didn't know it. 
And you are the light just over the horizon 
Always there 
Even in the dark 
I am the distraught moon 
Shining wildly in the night 
You are my stars. 
I'd hold you till the sun comes up 
Tell you they're nothing but nightmares 
I'd stroke your hair gently 
Wispering a lullaby 
Until you believe me. 
I would sacrafice everything 
To make you happy 
I wish you could...

I Miss Her

I miss her 
A girl I hardly knew 
I miss the way she smiled 
Like there was no world 
On her shoulders. 
I miss her 
I miss the girl who laughed 
Like there was no past and no future 
Only now. 
I miss the girl 
Who grinned at me 
That random person 
On the outside of the circle 
I miss the girl 
Who seemed so free 
What happened to her? 

Time To Take A Break

It's okay 
Take the time to breath
Close your eyes and listen 
Listen to the people 
You used to want to be 
It's okay 
Close your eyes for a moment
Breath in the sweet spring air 
The chilled winter mist 
The hellish heat of summer 
The autumn rain 
Take the time to be yourself 
Not somebody you think would be liked 
Bake a cake or draw a picture 
Do something nice 
You deserve the kindness 
If you're waiting for a sign 
What better time is there 
To take a break. 
Sit in the shade, or the light of the window 
Just smile. 


People talk about love like it's
Some revolutionary thing 
With you 
It's just not feeling alone
There's a difference 'tween
Being alone 
And feeling alone
I think it's because the second is worse 
Love doesn't change being alone 
In this room, in this house, in this moment 
But never when I'm with you 
Which is always from now on 
Will I feel alone again


The nectar of flowers
Vines entangling the old wall
In a schoolyard I haven't seen
In too many years
The sweet taste on my tongue
Of victory 
I wasn't playing and yet
We've already won
The sweetest honey only makes you miss
A designed future we'll never know 
A forgotten past of black peaches and bliss
A place of spring sunshine and winter snow
Honey tastes like victory 
Berries like regret
Nectar like a past 
I'd sooner forget.


Too Young to understand the pain
Too real not to feel it
Walking in the rain
Till tomorrow bursts forward
In the gentle light of dawn

Loose Yourself

Drink the song of the moon 
Wiskey and wine brewed from the fields 
The fields of our end times 
Drink by the light of the rising sun 
Touch me, just once, till we never love again 
Wishing for more than just this life to spend with you 
Wishing for love. 

This, the life, I'll happily spend every second 
Singing to the roaring tide of the ocean 
Holding your hand 
Kiss under the rays of the sunlight 
In the afternoon, the day of nights 

    We won't hide love, this love, from the world 
Sing it louder than the howling wolves 
    Sing it to the hearts beating fast 

Before we'll never 

Freshly brewed spirits from the cellar 
    A mermaids kiss 
A stolen wish 
            Hide your face, loose yourself 
To the waves. 

Mysteries Abound

We Don't Know

  • We don't know what religion is right, no matter how much everyone says they do 
  • We don't know why things are wrong or right 
  • We don't know where we go when we die 
  • We certainly haven't agreed on the laws of the universe

Take the Next Flight Home

I forgot how much I missed nighttime walks that aren't filled with fear 
I forgot how much I missed the buzz of festivals 
The celebrations in the park that come once a year 
The smell of fish and chips and autumn in the air 
I forgot the way I missed the spring rain 
When we're suddenly forced to wear fleeces everywhere again 
Walks along the beach by the library, wading under the peer 
I hope all these memories aren't in vain
Memories, that's all I'm left with, of a childhood filled with dreams 
Memories, that's all they'll ever be it seems 
I almost forgot how I miss every little detail 
Under the setting sun or lonely moonbeams
I'd love to spend every Christmas and holiday with the family 
Despite all I loose I'd happily 
Take the next flight home  
For all the things I took forgranted, this is my apology

Text Message Prose

There are so many things I never knew I missed like Christmas in the Park and the Chinese Lantern Festival and now I miss them so much I miss driving in cars that are going places and not caring where they're going and going to the supermarket without hurrying to get back because I'm worried about people.
Christmas in the Park and The Chinese Lantern Festival are the two main things we used to go to, along with the busking festival sometimes. But it's so different there, when it only takes ten minutes to drive home and half the city go to these events and you meet your family there. I miss it so much.
I'd forgotten how much I missed it until now.


I want to be yours forever
You call me when you're feeling down 
Think I'm lying 'bout how wonderful you are 
I'd never lie to the girl 
Who makes my world feel alive 
I want to be yours forever 
When we're old and frail 
In the garden 'tween life and death 
I'll kiss your hand and say m'lady 
We'll survive the rain and hail 
I want to be the one who stays 
In your mind when all is lost 
We'll find our way through the ocean tide 
Trailing hands over stones and moss 
In a garden somewhere 
Very far away 
I'll be yours forever 
When the darkness is silent 
And no one else is around 
I'll sing you a song like the moon does 
Wrapped in a silver shroud 
I'll be yours. 


Round fat drops of frozen water 
Plummeting from an innocent looking cloud 
The sky is screaming 
Trying to tell me 
This isn't for the best 
Just a walk 
That's all I asked for 
But now the sky is wailing 
Hail from the clouds 
The sky is shouting 
Telling me to stop pining over 
Someone I could never have 
Shut up sky 
I'll write my own destiny. 


It takes a while not to miss them
I guess it's true what people say 
The only cure for grief is time 
I did some drawing yesterday 
And went outside for a while 
And inspite of everything 
I smiled 
It takes a while not to panic 
When you think about them 
But the only cure for grief is time 
I hardly remembered what it was like 
To feel this alive 

Dear Me in 2022

Dear me on New Years Day 2022, 
Wow. We made it through what nearly two years of covid? That's incredible, GO US! 
Hey, hi Mia, who's probably reading this with me and laughing at how bad my writing is. We're still best friends right? Best friends forever like that annoying Lego Friends song? Yup. Good. Anyway. 
So, right now I'm kind of stressed about a lot of things, involving Bee, Sha, and some other stuff. I can't believe I called 000 a few weeks ago. Let's not go down that rabbit hole because... no. 
So, is covid over yet? Is everyone vacinated? Did I right a song finally? Do I have a boyfriend or something? So many questions. One very strange question though, what is my hair like? Right now, it's bleached, it was dyed red before, and it's kind of a short mullet that's growing out. What's my style? Right now, there isn't really a way to describe it...

[Insert Age]


I think, perhaps, I am too old not to recognize and too young to know better of the mistakes I am yet to make. I know I am flawed. I know the world is flawed, but that doesn't give us a right to walk over what's left of humanity with the spiked golf shoes of willfull ignorance. You, dear reader, have surely made mistakes, which in itself is only human. People tell you all this schist about how it's how you atone for them that matters, but really, they're right. There is no greater mistake then refusing to admit one's own flaws.
At 14 I should be living my life and just enjoying myself, shouldn't I? Don't try to silence me, adults with your antivax facebook posts and racist tweets and little care for any part of the world outside of your family. I refuse to be fooled. 
And no, all you Karens and Kevins and "conservitive influencers", I am...

Social Experiment

I did a social experiment today. 
It was 23 degrees and I was wearing tracksuit pants most of the day 
I was dying from that so I decided to wear a skirt 
And a sleveless tank top over a spagetti strap crop top 
I did not expect to be stared at by a 60 something man on a bike for like five seconds 
I did not expect the old man in the blue car to look at me and my friend over his shoulder 
I did not expect boys to yell something I couldn't quite make out as they rode their bikes past 
Even I was not prepared for the way society judges girls based on their clothes. 

We Succumb to Daydreams

We sucumb to the daydreams 
Lying in the meadow just north of the forest 
Silk and cotton flowing over our delecate skin 
Flowers in your hair 
Dirt on my hands 
This is what my "friends" would call a sin 
Loving; no matter what happens 
Dreaming; trapped in a place 'tween reality 
And the fantasy of everlasting peace 
We sucumb to the daydreams 
Sirens with their hair woven into seaweed 
Who call and call just for someone to love 
Beautiful yet deadly
Entrapped in the cage of our minds 
Yet free as a dove 
Lying in the meadow near the old barn 
By butterflies and ladybugs and brambles 
Blackberries staining our hands 
This sin appears like everlasting love 
And if 'tis that evil a desire 
To wander the world alone so many think 
They must be cursed 
And yet the preachers with their neon signs proclaim 
It is wrong, for we are too feminine to sire 
The children of tomorrow 

Old Friends

We walked around this town 
Already old friends when we just met 
Making jokes and placing bets 
On what we'll be when we grow up


Is femininity really unpowerful? 
Hera was feared all over 
The Arae's curses are yet to be broken 
Mother's don't raise children 
They raise warriors 
The fairytale's usually end in death 
But the real heroes are labeled heroines 
Hansel and Gretel are a duo not one 
Each and every year 
Haven't women won?

Short poem / part of my song

Dancing in the grocery isles 
Skipping stones just to pass the time 
Now I'm never alone always lonely 
I guess it's time to come home

Summer Days

Walking to the store late in the afternoon
The bell above the door jingles, a sound in the silence
Silence like a suffocating hot summer 
Not this summer, this summer was special 

Summer days in the campground by your side 
Running down to the water in the dusky light 
Wishing we were different, different 
Summer days at the beach lost in your eyes 
Running down to the water in the night
Nothing now can make this right 
I don't wanna make it right 

Cause you were the girl from the right side of the tracks 
I didn't love no body before that 
Don't wanna be in these bodies we were born in 
Let's be someone else just for tonight
Let's be someone else, forget that
I was girl lost in a daydream world 
didn't love no body else before that

Sunset (Read footnotes)

Lost in the mist like the ocean around us 
Two goddesses on a mortal rock 
In the sunset the clouds surround us 
Running down to the dock 

This isn't how our paths are laid 
In the end we'll see the mess you made
You can't change up the stars 
Defying fate and the sky's own barricade 
But maybe that's just how you were made 
This isn't how the stars are laid 
We met just a moment alone in the shade 
But maybe that's just how you were made 


Invisible Ferris Wheel

Invisible ferris wheel 
Flying on our 
Insisible ferris wheel
Reach for the cotton candy clouds 
Showered in stars 
On this 
Invisible ferris wheel 
You and I 
Lost in each others' eyes 
Flying high over the town 
On our 
Invisible ferris wheel

The Witch In The Woods

People tell all sorts of crazy stories in these parts. The most common one is one started, I believe, by the local kids. They think there's a monster in the woods. I heard them say as the walked the well-trodden path into town, that she has eyes as blue as cobalt and teeth like razor blades. They say, when the night is dark and the moon is full, that she howels at the moon. It would be a sorry sight, to see the creature in her grey furs, with her witches hat, howeling at a floating piece of rock. I don't know what started the rumors. They say she's been here at least fourty years. It's a strange thingy really; I've lived in these woods for fifty and I've nver seen anything strange.

Fairy Tales

Fairy-tales are beautiful 
Why do people think 
That they're bad 
How don't people know 
Fairy-tales are beautiful 
How could you say 
They are bad 
There's nothing creepy about them 
How could anyone think 
The stories are terrible 
Isn't it obvious? 
They're a wonderful thing 
No one should say 
I hate fairy tales 
(Now read it backwards)

Faceless Statistic

Screaming in the night 
My hands as cold as ice 
Somebody might say 
We're fighting the good fight
What's good  about 
Fearing for somebody else's life 
Every minute of mine 

Just another faceless statistic 
Waiting to be outdated  
Just another faceless satistic 
Most of the population hated 
My friends 
Come with me or don't 
Follow me into the unknown 
We're the ones who are alone 

Screaming in the night 
Our hands as cold as ice 
But it's worth it cause 
We're fighting the good fight 
Screaming in the night 
Try not to say goodbye 
Before we're gone away
No, no, no, no 
Screaming in the night 
My hands as cold as ice 
Is it even worth 
Fighting the good fight 
Just another lie 
Attention seeking generation wide 

Just another faceless statistic 
The one percent with broken minds 
Just another faceless stastic 
But it's worth it 'cause 
We're fighting the good fight 
Even if we're just another lie
Attention seeking...

Explain Yourself (second draft)

Little girl
The red-riding hood in a suburban forest
Born without caring, careless and helpless
Ignorant and arrogant like every other child
Explain yourself
What are you writing?
Why are you fighting?
Is it not better being liked?
Explain yourself
Why are you feeling?
Why aren’t they hearing?
Why is the world so broken?
Little girl
Put on your poker-dot dress
Learn how to love
As if you didn’t know
Little girl
Even if you couldn’t care less
That your skirt catches in the fresh snow
When there’s mud on your Barbie flats
They’ll let you know
Explain yourself
Explain yourself
What are you writing?
Why are you fighting?
Don’t you know where to stand?
Why are you feeling?
Why aren’t you healing?
Why aren’t they hearing
You say
Running in the fields at midnight
Looking up at the stars
Playing ball in the backyard
Barefoot on the grass
And instead, they’re gonna say
Why are...

Explain Yourself

Little girl
The red-riding hood in a suburban forest
Born without caring, careless and helpless
Ignorant and arrogant like every other child
Explain yourself
What are you writing?
Why are you fighting?
Is it not better being liked?
Explain yourself
Why are you feeling?
Why aren’t they hearing?
Why is the world so broken?
Little girl
Put on your poker-dot dress
Learn how to love
As if you didn’t know
Little girl
Even if you couldn’t care less
That your skirt catches in the fresh snow
When there’s mud on your Barbie flats
They’ll let you know
Explain yourself
Explain yourself
What are you writing?
Why are you fighting?
Don’t you know where to stand?
Why are you feeling?
Why aren’t you healing?
Why aren’t they hearing
You say
Running in the fields at midnight
Looking up at the stars
Playing ball in the backyard
Barefoot on the grass
And instead, they’re gonna say
Why are...


Crawling from the depths of a hollow tree 
Eyes stinging in the autumn rain 
The truth comes out 
The truth comes out today 
Just one lie can't hurt they say 
Just a small thing, like a chore 
Just a little lie can't hurt
How wrong they are 
Crawling out in all its beaten glory
Safe unto the wary passing of the lights 
As the sun goes down and 
All the wolves come out 
Come out tonight 
The rain cleans off its fragile frail wings 
The bain of such a glorious mighty beast 
Encased in its flightless broken wings 
Go to the sunrise, young child, head east
To where the truth sings its melancholy madrigal 
Crawling out as the light sets crystal pink 
And the rain and tears intermingle in deafening rochus 
Its wings are broken, crumpled, lying in the leaves 
Alone but for its mortal wary mind 
Take a breath, sweat creature of the light 
Take a breath, to...

The Sunrise

Reflected in the window
Head in a book 
Mind somewhere else 
Waiting for dawn to come

Walking in the morning
You'll see the sunrise 
Walk by the grass and yellow flowers 
Waiting for day to come 

Sitting alone 
A weight from their shoulders 
Lifted at last 
Mourning over the stars 
Waiting for life to start


Judgmental parents of old friends
Judging the humans of flesh and blood
As which we were born
Judging the way the fabric drapes or skin
With freckles and blemishes we're told 
We should want to be rid of 
Judging the way we feel something 
Better than pretending nothing exists
Standing in the shade of a cherry blossom tree
Singing to the birds 
They don't care, who are we 
This skin, this mortal flesh that binds 
Reality to fantasy 
Entrapping our longing souls 
For something 
Than dreams 
Dreams of the worlds we could see
Roaring waves and the singing of the souls 
Finally free 
From everyone and everything 
Trying to harm thee 
Cotton drapes the skin of the moon 
And the stars in their eyes 
That reflect the night 
So alone
Yet perfect
We lie in the earth where 
The subtle roots of the parasitic 
Plants intertwine with these laced fingers 
Judgemental parents of old friends 
Gone forever to the...

I Could Tell You

I wish I could say goodbye
Like they said goodbye in the musical
For one last time
I wish I could say goodbye
To everyone I'll never see again
I can feel you, I swear you're still 
In your house of wonder, reading and writing
Baking, painting
I can hear you, are you roaring
Down the laneways of the Emerald Isle 
In a little car, that goes through puddles
With ease 
I wish I could say goodbye
To the people I never really grew to know
As more than the grandmother on the phone
As fragile as a spring flower
As if her words may implode
At any moment
I wish I grew to know you
As more than the one who painted 
The elephant on the wall
She loved elephants
I wish I could say goodbye
And tell you 
Who am I? 
I wish I could grow up
A child 
Who loves what they love 
Who is more than...

Love Poems in My Head Written Into... Something

What's it like, not wanting to be near someone so much it kills you? What's it like, not thinking about them, every waking hour, and in the dreams that exist only nowhere and everywhere? I wonder, did the poets who wrote love poems about unrequited love, who talked about the valleys and mountains they called home, until they found the person that was everything, know that people in the future would read their damning poems and think, how like them we are? I wonder, when I was sitting in the grass in the backyard where my friend's cat was burried, did I predict that one day my path would cross with someone else who would know exactly what it was like to be me? How could I have ever known, unless I saw it in the stars. 

Melancholy Prose

There was a time long ago, when we were picking daisies and stringing them into chains, as our hearts burst with all the colours of childhood and the summer ocean breeze ruffled our hair, when I did not believe in unrequited love. Oh, how naive I was.

When I Look in Your Eyes

All these adjectives 
They're meant to describe
Your eyes. 
But when I look at you
In the park 
As we laugh 
Then I'll cry
When I look at you
I can't see 
Pools of ink in your eyes 
All these silly words
Writers trying to seem like poets 
I'm guilty of most of them
But your eyes aren't oceans
Your eyes aren't stars 
We don't immediately realize 
The world is ours
It takes time
Like the growth of a tree 
Root by root 
Limb by limb
Till we are one. 
And when I look at your smile 
It doesn't light up the room 
It dulls down everything around 
Until there's only you 
When I look in your eyes 
I don't see the ocean 
I see something
They aren't blue 
Or brown 
But greyish green 
Like the old metal barrel 
Outside the cafe 
When I hadn't met you 
Good God, how was I alive? 
I don't see blue  ...


"Here to buy some more of my ghosts?" Mr. Crawford called to us as we entered the shop. His antiques, or ghosts as he so fondly called them were a favorite among Dreamdale folk, had been for years. "I don't have any change, unfortunately," he went on. "Ran out this morning." Mr. Crawford had an interesting hair style for a fifty something year old--sort of lke a mullet but not that short at the sides. 
    "Here, I have some small change Jason pressed a handful of coins into Mr. Crawford's blotchy wrinkled hand. He deftly pressed his middle and forefinger against Mr. Crawford's vein, in such a split second he was pulling away again that the antique store owner said nothing, but his brow furrowed slightly. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped short and simply palmed the change. Jason trained to be a Paramedic before he joined the family business; spying. He knows...

Dust Jacket

Beautiful Darkness

My name means beautiful darknessI know. here I am, in a flower apron, waiting for my chocolate chip muffins to finish cooking, and my name means beautiful darkness. Duffy is my surname, and that means darkness. Duffy is Irish, which I like, but beautiful darkness is really not me. I am sitting with the blinds wide open, at the table, it's nine fifty three in the morning, and my name means beautiful darkness.

I wrote that bit a long, long time ago. Now I see it. Maybe I am beautiful darkness.

Diminishing Verse

The Ocean and the Fairy Tales

The water spins, with its thick ply 
Here does the coolest ocean lie 
Looked on by the gleaming opal eye 

The rippling waves, dangerous and sly 
The summer storm a mournful sigh 
No one here, more tired than I 

Here by the beach we sit around the table 
Waiting for a bird we are not able 
To name, with it's bright orange bill

For breakfast, English Muffins with jam, 
There's no one more at peace than I am

Morning tea by the beach, chips and scones 
We walk, picking up pebbles, and shells shaped like cones
Purple, grey and sandy ones 

In the cabin, listening to dynomite 
This is something and nothing, I might 
Believe in fairy tales that my 

Lonely heart reads into 
Far too much too

Praying for the Rain

Burning hot in my eyes 
Falling, falling 
Filled with lies 

When babies cry it's in fear
Children cry in pain
Teens cry in boredom 
Waiting for the rain 

Burning hot in my eyes 
Waiting for the world 
To swallow me alive 
But that's not how it should go 
Just for once 

Falling, falling 
Filled with lies 
When babies cry it's in fear
Children cry in pain 
Teens cry in sorrow 
Drowning in the rain 

Falling, falling 
Filled with needless shame
Don't cry
Not here 
Not now
Not over this 

Falling, falling 
Mixed in with the rain 
Babies cry in fear 
Children cry in pain 
Teenagers cry in sorrow 
Praying for the rain

Dearest Friend,

Dearest friend,
You have no idea how much I want to feel the ocean spray on my face as we sail around the coast of Scotland, see the little lonely towns in rural England, walk along the cliff-sides looking out over the ocean in Ireland as the chilling rain spits at our faces and our noses turn red from the cold, skip along country lanes in rural France since we don't want to live in the city seeing as we don't speak the language.
You have no idea.

The Dress

Threads strewn around
Fabric in all colours 
Scissors and unpickers and needles
A tin of pins sits on the ground
The dress is still not done
The steady, fast, loud sound of the machine
Stiching, stiching, stiching 
The dress needs to be done.
Beads spill like rain-drops onto the carpet
Sparkling and shining and bright
The ancient sewing scissors from my grandmother
They cut the fabric just right
The dress still isn't done.
Just a few more rows of stiches 
Just a few more minutes
Just a few more tears
Just a bit more time
The dress wiill probably never be done.


Oh Alice 
Wonderland was a place to escape 
But the darkness comes from inside 
There's no such thing 
As a place 
Of peace 

Oh Alice, 
Your hair black as raven's eyes 
Your smile, though rare 
Shining bright 
Oh Alice, 
There's no such thing as peace 
Wonderland is no escape 
No escape from this place 
You call home 

Pale pink arches 
Beds of roses 
A wishing well and tea 
This place is naught but wonderland 
There's no such thing I see 
The coins are tarnished 
The stone is cracked 
The illusion's fooling you 
Alice come back to reality 

Where the sun is gone 
The dark is bleak 
And your hands reach for soemthing 
That's not there 
Oh Alice, 
Do not dispear 
The wonderland may be in your head 
A Mad Hatter is a dream 
But the world you see is not so bad 
Though filled with dark and decept 

Oh Alice, 
You can't live forever 
In a world of roses and...

Is That Such A Bad Thing?

I'm an atheist. Is that such a bad thing? 
Is it bad that helping people is good, because it's a good thing to do? 
Is it bad that this is our one chance at life, and we should make the best of it? 
My friend and I were part of a dark joke, she said "I wouldnt' do that though, I'm a Christian." 
I wonder if she thinks I am heartless. 
Is it so bad that love is the most important thing, whether gay or straight, platonic or romantic? 
We all need love. Not because someone told us so, because it is the most basic important human experience. 
I wonder if they think I'll change. 
I can assure you - I won't. 
Is that such a bad thing? 
She told me she prayed for me. I don't want anyone praying for me. 
I don't want someone talking about me behind my back, even if it's to a higher power. 

The Darkness is Light

Outside the house 
The darkness is light 
Lonely pairies and 
Clouded skies 

The silver spines 
On ghostly trees 
Swaying and dancing 
In the chilly breeze 

Under the sky of silver 
Pixie dust and light 
The dog runs across the hill 
Chasing the sparrows  and kite

Down by the river 
Where I saw her that day
The rocks are slick with water
Moss on banks of clay

Outside the house 
The darkness is light
Waking up, heart beating fast
In the middle of the night 

The ghosts of trees sway
Dappled with green leaves 
These, the light and darkness 
Are the things I have seen

Tedy Bear Buscuits

Disclamer: The Teddy Bear Buscuits mentioned in the following story are not the Arnotts ones. They are home-made. 

"Teddy bear biscuits! I swear I put them right here," Jemima Carlyle exlaimed, staring at the epmty spot on the table
    Eliza looked where she was staring. "Well maybe they wandered off..." she paused dramatically, "...You never know." 
    Jemima laughed. "Yes I'm sure they did." 
    But the hours to the village fate passed quickly, and the teddy bear buscuits did not return. There wasn't a crumb, a trace of oats, or a chocolate chip anywhere. 
    "Eliza?" Jemima called later that day, at the sound of a door shutting in the cottage. "Is that you?" There was no reply, so Jemima continued down the hallway.
    There was the sound of footsteps in the next room, and Jemima stopped. Those steps were too small and close together to be Eliza. 
    Jemima stopped...

Faceless People

Faceless people 
We leave them, sitting by the roadside 
Beneath a cherry tree in the summer 
Their faces are there, defined, chizzled, 
Soft, glowing 
But we don't see them 
For they're nothing to us 
But faceless people 
We leave them in the wake of a storm 
At the mast, screaming someone's name to the winds 
Their faces are nothing to us 
Nothing at all 
I guess I must be a faceless person 
The round nose, pink lips, grey eyes 
They mean nothing to a stranger
Simply a blury impression of life 
We leave them, grieving in the churchyard 
For someone they never grew to know 
We leave them, the brush of a cheek 
The grip of freezing hands 
Don't let go 
We are the faceless people 
A generation of misfits 
All broken 
But breathing 
Let the faceless people have room to breath 
Gasping in the spring air 
Sitting by the railway 
Waiting for a train to nowhere 
All over again  ...


I think we writers are people 
Who use too many words 
To say the simplist things. 
Whole pieces of prose 
Just to say 
I miss you 
We write the entire world
To tell them 
They're our universes 
Writers are people 
Who overthink everything 
And say too much 
Or too little 
We use a thousand words 
Just to say 
I love you 
Like Sappho 
And Dikinson 
And Byron 
And frost 
And Wilde 
We use star dust 
And moonbeams 
And water from down the creek 
And flowers 
And petals 
Old books 
And leaves 
Just to say 
We were meant to be 

I Stole The Stars

Darling, we looked up at the sky
When the world was stopped 
In a red and orange laneway of trees
Not far from here 
Darling, what is there 
But you and I? 
What's the world 
When we have the sky
Every star that I stole 
Clasped in our hands
For just a while 
Wander the lands 
Darling, I looked up at the night sky
And the stars they replaced
With clouds
Darling, we stopped 
The world stopped spinning 
It was only ever ours 
You stole the moon, as she stood 
Watching over us
I stole the stars, when they twinkled 
Smiling with the night 
Darling, we looked up at the sky 
Stopped in a laneway of leaves 
Orange and green 
Darling, you stole the moon 
In her silver cloak 
Of heart-broken tears 
From every corner of the earth 
And I stole the stars 
One by one 
Clasped in our hands 
Polished with mirth 
You stole the moon 
Blood-stained silver 

Sea Shells

Picking shells from the shore 
Pale blue, dark purple, light yellow and more
Waves lap gently at the sand 
Picking up rocks, snails and clams 
We toss the back, of course 
To continue on their journey 
Tumbled about by the waves 
Lacking in purpose, identity 
Just creatures swept out to sea 
Not real, all just a dream 
Like us, really

The Dusk

When the dusk rolls in like water 
The golden light is shining 
Liquid pearls 
Dappled with fresh stars
The dusk creeps in in silence 
Like barefoot steps on dewey grass
    Liquid stars

Crackling Fire

Under the sky, as she weaves 
The clouds into lace
    In the darkness
    Of this place

My eyes open and I wish 
I wish     the         Beautiful 
    Would stay with me 
    Just for tonight
But spinning and swriling 
    Whirling planets and stars
    Out of line with the truth
From horrorscopes 
Some '80s news paper

    It's over for now
    Back to this room 
Back to the lamplight that floods
My eyes 
Forever gone in olbvion 
    Are those emerald eyes

    Snap    crinkling paper     crackling fire
Suddenly gone away 
    Back to this place 
    Back to the bronze lamp 
Back to the old dusty mirror 
Back to the memories that flood me 
    Of the people I wish I was 

Under the sky 
Wave upon wave of spring grace
    Never alone, always lonely ...

Little Girl

Little girl, walking in the woods 
Little girl
    You walk through the woods until it's 
    Walk slower 
    Purpose is a string of lies 
    Friends are a string of lives 
    We are forever intertwined 
Dearest Rachel and I 

Little girl, you were once a star 
    You were born into the night sky 
With no purpose, but for lies 
    Little girl, who you used to be 
    Work hard and you'll go places

Was she ever really me?
The girl who's friends she cared about 
    Not the ones who's eyes amber like snakes 
Not the ones we'll one day laugh about 
Not for a while, little girl 
    The one 
    You were 

    Worn out shoes crunching on stones 
Maybe for now 

A Thousand Fights

I wrote poems to you 
To the stars 
To the sky 
And once more to you 

    It's like it's written somewhere 
        Maybe in the stars 
            In every star 
                In your eyes 

    I wrote poems to escape the world 
Now I'm writing them to see you again 
    I wrote to find my way in the world 
        But now that you are here, well then 

        I will see you in every star 
    I will see you in every moonbeam in the night 
I will see you again 
    I'd fight a thousand fights 
        For one more smile 

    I'll dream a thousand nights 
Of the time between the years 
    Over and over 
        Wishing you were near 
            I'd fight a thousand fights 
For one more smile

Do you think of me when we both look...

The Most Beautiful Place in Ireland

The fence that the cows are on the other side of and the emerald fields span out from littered with bunnies and the occasional fox.
And it's high but we stand on it anyway
The cobblestones have little cracks between them and there are weeds taking over
The rolling hills on the other side of the padock go on forever, with a little farm house on this side and who knows what on the other
The smoke from the wood fire furls out of the chimney and disperses
The cows seem like gentle giants when we are so sm

There's A Patch of Sky

    There's a patch of sky I can always see in the day
    But it's dark out and the sky is gone
    There's a scrap of open sky above the plains
    For when the world burns and people are wrong
    And now the sky is gone and the stars are invisible
    Andn the darkness is sickening like blood
    And my eyes are broken from all that is invincable
    But the sky is still there by the window when all is done

The sky

Every Day of My Life

We are what Sappho predicted 
Remembering her 
In another time 
I love the way her eyes glint 
And I can see it all 
To live with her 
Die with her 
Spend every day of my life with her 
Sappho's lovers and lies we kept 
Hidden secrets 
From life to death 
Just the thoughts I hid with 
The stars you put in my eyes 
To live with her 
Die with her 
Spend every day of my life with her 

Writers' Block is a Grey Screen

They all talk about writers' block 
    Like it's something wrong, fixable 
Maybe it's just about wanting to write something real 
Instead of dreams I made up 

        Writers' block engulfs me like the waves 
    I'll never see again at this rate 
Trapped in a place where dreams are crushed 
            Waiting for something other than songs 
    That somebody else wrote 
In a happier time 

    The thing about Romeo and Juliet is this: 
        No matter how hard the times were they had each other 
            True love is supposed to concour all 
                Unless there was no love at all 
    They had everything and nothing 
Roses and death threats 
    At least they had each other 
        And a story to forget 

    So maybe writers' block is just boredom 
Boredom of the mind 
    The heart straining at steel bars  ...

Lights in the Night

Flashing lights on the hills of night 
    Glowing in the darkness with nothing but 
    Pink, yellow, blue, green 
They light up the world is what I have seen 
    But I've seen too much, not enough for you 
        Because you've seen the real world, the normal world 
And I am but a dream anyone is yet to have 

Flashing lights in the night 
    Fireworks burst and disappear 
    Trails of blazing nothingness 
        Your eyes are as grey as the world in my brain 
And as vibrant as the dreams 
    I am yet to obtain 
        You are the nothing I somehow made everything 
            Additcted to dreaming a world I can't see 

Thinking 'bout that line from a musical I haven't seen 
    There's nothing we can't discuss / like girls we wish would notice us but never do 
I could...

A Work Of Art

You are a work of art, yes you 
Your eyes are shining pools 
Holding the universe 
Don't let anyone tell you otherwise 
Your skin, whether egg-shell white, oak brown 
Or glowing gold, is the as beautiful 
As the velvet sky that holds the world 
Stretch marks aren't ugly, they are the trails 
Of shooting stars on your skin 
Scars are proof that you're alive 
They tell a story 
Of you 
Your hair is like the plants 
That adorn the world 
The universe of you 
You are a work of art, yes you 
You're body is just the vessel that holds 
An incredible mind 
Your ribs and chest meant to keep 
The most wonderful heart 
You are a work of art 
Your freckles and achne 
Are a galaxy of stars
Your eyes hold the universe, whether grey 
Copper green, cerulian blue, or black as a raven 
You are a work of art 
Don't let anyone tell you 
You are the...


The girl sits in a tree with a book 
So seemingly at peace, yet restless 
In her eyes is the lonliness of knowing 
You are surrounded by people
But in your heart you're alone 

The girl looks out at the boy on the swing 
She wonders if he knows what it's like 
She wonders if he too is alone 
In the midst of a lifeless life 
But he looks up and hugs some other girl 
Clearly not alone 
Never alone 
Just waiting for his love to appear 

The girls scrapes her knees leaping from the tree 
Looking for a place to be alone 
If one must be alone 
At least give her some peace 

The tears she cried were never enough 
For anybody else to see 
Just tears in her eyes as she walked alone 
Surrounded by fake family 
Friends who claimed they knew her 
But only knew her jokes and random questions 

She walks alone, like so many  ...

August Grab Bag

The Star

The star glinted and shimmered and glowed, a burning flaming thing. So infinitely beautiful as it was told by story after story, poem after poem, song after song. I must confess I wrote many of them. My favorite was always The Old Astronamer, with it's famous line I have loved the stars too fondly / to be fearful of the night. But this star, a single star in a galaxy of darkness and light and life and death, it was so hard to pin-point was was beautiful about it. When a star is born, you can only expect it to be beauty, but what is it compared to the world it belongs in? I considered naming her Mia, Bianca, or maybe Cami. I considered many names, I even thought about naming her Niamh, for she was the Irish Goddess of beauty and brightness I think. But they were all individual things, like this star. And so, as I am guided...

The Sparkle In Their Eyes

We fall in love with the sparkle 
In their eyes 
Glinting, twinkling, stars and moonbeams 
We fall in love with the light in their eyes 
And our eyes sparkle with joy 
To be near a million voices 
And only hear one 
And they don't fall for us 
Our eyes are too dark, hues of gleaming blue 
Too melancholy, sparkling with vice 
What starts in simple joy 
Can only end 
With our eyes shining 
For a different reason 
It ends with tears in our eyes 
Sparkling like oceans brought back 
In the manifested emotions of gods 
But that's why we love 
What can only bring pain 
I may like the summer 
But I love the rain 
Humans long to feel something 
To feel alive 
That's why we fall 
For shining eyes
We fall in love with the sparkle 
In their eyes 
And it leaves us with 
Shining tear drops 
In our eyes
But we long to feel something 
Of being alive  ...

I'm So Sorry

I'm sorry 

Friend's who walk along cliffsides 

Sometimes fall 

The light-house guides others 

Who's to guide us? 

I'm sorry 

I'm sorry for love 

We know too much and too little 

The world is waiting with baited breath 

To hear us, to hear me 

I'm so sorry 

I'm so sorry 

We will fall

Sad Song

It hurts me unimaginably, listening to that song 
It did before I knew you 
It will once you're gone 
I knew I'd met her, the girl I wanted to know 
When you said Castle On The Hill was sad 
You were born in Africa 
    Me in New Zealand 
        We were both missing 
A place to call home 
        I knew when I found you and we talked 
    I knew when I was once again alone 
I knew I'd found a girl 
Who knew what it was like 
    Having no where 
    To really call your home 
We talked and laughed and found out everything 
There is to know 
    About one another 
        And know I know through the storm 
    There are lights that flash and blind 
    There's a sad sort of singing 
For what we left behind 
    And I know...


Oh beautiful goddess, Niamh 
You have my name, you have my ancestors 
I have your legacy 
Across the seas 
Always in danger 
Always lying in wait 
Oh my darling, Niamh 
The things we do for love 
You did 
Pretty Oisin 
Your love 
So like me 
Oh my goddess, tread 
The mistakes you made 
Centuaries later 
How you were so like 
You took off on a magic steed 
To travel and find your own love 
Your name 
Your beauty and brightness 
It carries on in a legacy 
I have your spirit 
Of adventure 
And I bear your name 


You and I could have been something 
When I lie awake I wonder how 
You were so gallant and brave 
We could have been something 
But your green eyes 
Kill me slowly 
Bring the pain 
Until I reach 
An early grave 
They turn hazle in the morning light 
Flashing like the lights behind mine 
And no one in the world can take 
What was ours 

Darling we were meant to be friends 
Maybe more 
But not now 
Not ever 
I never hid anything from you 
As we watched the sunset 
And the moon disappeared
We clicked in our minds but you 
Were oblivious to the lies 
That my heart hid blindly 
Wishing for the darkness 
To blind me 

I told you everything 
But now I'm the stereotype 
The girl who has feelings 
For her best friend 
Who will never 
In a gillion minutes 
And moments 
Like me back 

School camp 
Walking to the pier in the darkness 
As the...


If looks could kill well I'd be dead by now 
Hey, hey, Amelia(ah) 
Hey, hey, Amelia 
On a day once in spring
There was a girl I used to know 
And they all claimed to praise the king 
But I know I know I know better now

If words could kill I'd be dead by now 
And looking at the wishing well all you say 
Was you'd wish I'd changed 
I'll never change
Hey, hey, Amelia(ah) 
Hey, hey, Amelia 

If you could kill I swear just kill me now 
Stop with the lies and alibies and claiming you know better 
Flashing lights behind these eyes 
You're nothing but deception 
Hey, hey, Amelia(ah) 
Hey, hey, Amelia

But when I'm thinking like a child 
When sensibility and concequences leave 
I know I miss the girl I used to know 
The girl with a million smiles 
To give to everyone and everything 
If looks could kill you'd be a silent killer 
In agony...

What Are You Waiting For?

Warning: Hamilton Spolliers 

In the car today, I was transported back to a cheerished memory of traveling in Tasmania. See that's what happens when you listen to the same music, the stuff you did on a road trip. It takes you back for a few minutes, until the song is over at least. And as I sat there, half in Melbourne, half in the forest in Tasmania, I thought about the lyrics to The Story of Tonight Reprise. Burr and Hamilton, singing songs about old friends and change. And then one line hits me like a ton of bricks: if you love this woman go get her, what are you waiting for? And I can only think about how Alexander Hamilton himself did just that, and married Elizabeth Schuyler. And it was a good thing he did, because he died at 49 I believe, so can we ever really know? Life doesn't wait. And it makes my heart hurt, because...


I wasn't watching when she came up from the sea 
I was liistening to people I don't know talk about 
Who I'm supposed to be 
Her eyes were like the ocean 
Dangerous and and beautiful and everything 
That she's supposed to be 
The captain of the ship called all hands on deck 
But really through the murky water 
I know he meant the hands of men 

And her eyes were like the pieces of glass 
That we have to walk on to get through the past 
And it's a legacy I'll carry with me 
On the ocean, far away from anybody else 
The captain called all hands on deck 
But in a storm the only one's I know they meant was men 
The water feels like drowing but it's beautiful 
And I know she'll never see me but she's beautiful 
Scales of green, copper hair and glass houses 
We throw stones in just see if it means 
What they all...

First This, Then That

Will They Ever Leave Me Be?

First they said I was smart 
Then they said I knew nothing 
Then they said I was a girl 
Then they said I was an "it" 
Then they said I wasn't special 
Then they said I wasn't normal 
Then she said I was a lesbo 
So I said she was a git 
Then they said I was ugly 
Then they asked me of sexuality 
Then they said I was boring 
Then they said I'd never fit
Then they called me cow 
Tr**ny, cancer, and wow 
Were they ever unoriginal
Then they shoved me where I stood 
Then they acted like they were good 
Then they found out I was away 
So they took the chance, let's say 
Then I found stuff on my locker 
Then she said "it wasn't me!" 
Then they decided to throw pencils 
God, will they ever leave me be?

Just a Pen

The teacher told us we had to put our names on the list now if we wanted to go to the civil engineering course this afternoon. It took me over five minutes to get hold of the pen, just so I could sign my name on that stupid sheet. Summer passed the pen to Shannel, that blonde girl grabbed it from her. I finally managed to snatch the pen off the table, signing a scribbled "Issy, 9Q" in the next space. A boy with a good foot of hight on me appeared, waiting impatiently for the pen. I was going to put it back on the table, but he grabbed my hand and pulled the pen from my grasp. I felt my jaw clench. It's just a pen, I told myself, when his meaty paw grabbed the pen. But I couldn't believe it. Boys think they're entitled to everything in the world. They can't give you even a second to...

Should Health Care Be Free?

Health care. What the hell, America. I would like to point out, as politely as possible, that by being against health care, you are basically condoning the murder of innocent people. There's a thing called gross negligence: Deliberate or reckless disregard for the saftey of others. Now tell me, all those people that argue that they don't want people abusing universal health care privilages or using ambulences as taxies, how would you feel in the situation that your best friend is being carried off in an ambulence passed out at 10 PM and you can't do anything to help? How would you feel, knowing if your grandfather lived in the USA instead of Ireland, he'd have been dead years ago? You care about the "life" of a clump of cells, and yet not the lives of real, living, breathing, people? So please, America, please make health care free. It isn't that much money. It would literally be hardly any money...

Falling Into Flames

Do you believe me when I say 
Do you believe me 
We were never meant to fly 
Her eyes are like stars and I 
Have to hold back the tear in my eyes 
When I see you here again with us 
When I feel the pain of a thousand hearts
Beating as one 

Do you believe me when I say 
Do you believe me 
You'll never know the pain of a thousand stars 
Falling into flames 
Again, in the darkest woods 
On the lonely shore, where the sirens call 
And I love no more 
Do you believe me when I say 
Do you believe me 
You'll never know the pain of a thousand stars 
Falling into flames 

So say goodbye, try not to cry 
The train leaves the platform but your heart 
Will stay the same 
She'll be back again 
Just know this, when you close your eyes 
We were never meant to fly 
And the lonely church preaches of...

A God

My eyelids are heavy with hours I wish I could undo 
Sitting here, on the couch by the lamp that's not on 
Wishing I could undo all the mistakes I'm yet to make 
Wishing I could get to falling in love 
Falling in love with someone, not falling for the idea 
Of a girl who would never care 
My eyelids are tired of staying awake in the dark 
Waiting for another one like me 
My hands type without meaning, typing my thoughts 
Straight from the part of the brain I don't understand 
And I say the words allowed, I never planned 
I never planned to fall in love with a goddess 
For gods are too powerful for mine own warey heart 
Too beautiful too kind, too sweet and too smart 
And my mind is failing, like a falling star 
Into the abyss of everyone who wants 
To see me in chains 
Off with her head, they'll say 
And they'll be...

The Passing of Time

There's a strange sadness 
In the passing of time 
We're young, then we're not 
We're in love, then alone 
There's a strange sadness 
Rhyme after rhyme 
Going no where 
But home 
But what's a home when it's empty 
When children laugh no more 
And they too grow into lonesome 
People on a lonely planet 
What is love when 
Someone falls out of it 
You can loose your love in a moment 
At the flutter of the wing 
Of a fairy you no longer believe in 
What's the point when we grow old 
Creatures scared with the minutes 
That slipped away 
And no one remembers our names 
What's the point when death takes 
The only thing that was loved 
Taking the spring in the elderly's step
When the bricks crumble 
When the grass has grown 
Over the flowers 
We used to grow 
When the water's troubled 
And the birds have flown 
To newer fertile grown 
When the children don't smile 

Dear 13-year-old Me

Before you read this, this piece is in response to a letter I wrote to future me. Here's a link to the first letter, which will make this make much more sense (though I did try to include enough that it makes sense anyway)
Dear 13-year-old me, 
It's been a while, huh? 
Well, I'll answer your questions in order. No, I have not "got it all figured out". Probably less so than when I wrote that letter to me, in 2020. Yes, I have friends. I even have some new good friends! I'm planning on going to Europe with Mia from school, who you haven't met at this point but will meet in a few months. In terms of the people from co-op... I'm still friends with some of them. Oh yes, I'M AT SCHOOL NOW! I have been tempted to leave a few times, but I haven't so that's good I guess? I have a business selling art, but...


She was a blue person 
I could swear she was a blue person 
And yet hear she was, the first mufty day of school 
Clad in a bright scarlet top with a pleated collar

That's her thougts, I swear it is 
She said she'd thought I would wear blue 
And I should have 
I would have 
But for one small thing... 

She knew me too well after just a few weeks 
It was like we were life-long friends 
Yet into my every action seeps 
Society's domands 
She said she thought I'd wear blue 
    I should have too 
        I am 
            A blue person. 

But that's the way of the world. 
You want the others to see you as beautiful 
So much so 
You comprimise yourself 
    And maybe I was just as pretty in red 
    But Veronica knew me better 
She thought I would wear blue 

One term later, here we are  ...

Found Myself

Sinner, sinner, sinner
Is that all I am?
You say we all are 
I say none of us are
So why does it hurt so much?
But I guess I'm waiting for the moment
When I step into the woods
Knowing we're all lost, but finally
I can say I'm found
Oh darling I forgive you
You were my best friend 
The one friend
I could tell anything
But I can never trust you if
You believe all that you said
So instead of lying crushed
I'll take to the skies instead
And in all the world I'll never be hurt
Like I was by you
But I'll have finally found myself
Under the star-speckled blue

Group Chats

Group chats.
The source of all major drama 
I just can't bear the thoughts
That ring in our ears
Thanks to the boy you added 
We ask if he respects us
He says its none of our business
What he thinks of love
So yes I'll leave this horror show
Of arguments and smiling masks
I can't bear it, after all
Last time it did last
Forever enviously of your joy
Never yours, 
The ghost of all you stole


Why is it that confessions make things real? 
I've hidden my true feelings for some time now 
Is it or is it not supposed to be a big deal? 
Because in most romance stories I'm the clown 
And I told a friend, she called me bent 
We probably won't speak again 
And I told my sister she made fun of me 
That was when we were kids. 
But I told my friend, I like someone 
Like like like. Really for once 
And she didn't ask why, or tell others 
We just talked like normal teenagers for once 
So maybe I was scared for years over nothing 
But I keep fears and keep fears that I hold 
I met her friends--they seemed nice 
I got her Discord 
I'm just a girl, trying to hold 
Onto scraps of a child-hood I didn't get 
Well I got it, but it all feels fake now 
Is it like that for everyone? 
So I told...


Every time you ring the phone I hold my breath 
As another's slips away 
Praying he's survived for another day 

Dad was up till 2 AM last night 
Ringing, ringing, ringing 
But he never answered 
So my breath catches in my throat 
We'll have to plan in advance and 
Wait for the inevitable 

My eyes are tired from not crying 
Three years since she left 
All those memories 
A beating heart has stopped now 
That's what happens to the dead 

And I wish I could see him again 
But there's the problem of the sea 
15,000 kilometers from my my father's parents 
Where she was burried and I will one day bleed 

Extravagence in thy god's almighty name 
Mary gaurds her resting place on the Emerald Isle 
And though it helps my grandfather, I'll never believe 
In this life in missile after missile to the mind 

It's been five years since I've seen the green 
Of the fields that were...

Until the Sun Comes Up

TW: Tr*nsphobia, h*mophobia
The fragments of a poem appeared in my head, yesterday afternoon whilst walking home from school. I thought I'd remember them, but I couldn't. Repeating them in my head became irksome, so I had to write them down. Get the ink on paper, to tell my story, and hopefully lift others. 

Our lives are hard enough 
Without the blood spilled  by your goddamn laughter 

I have to laugh it off 
Because if I don't laugh loud 
I'll cry quietly 

How matters it to you 
The gender of those 
We'll one day hold in our arms 
Until the sun comes up 
In love 

I know I meant to write more when I got home. Or at least, as close to home as I can be in this wretched lonely country. I swear I meant to write about crisp leaves that scattered the stone bench I dropped to. I wanted to tell the stories of the birds that call...

Beautiful Soul

We all have fears but if I learnt one thing 
No-body cares if you have a "beautiful soul" or not 
Now they want others, beautiful 
With bodies like statues of Venus 
But if somebody ever loved me, it'd be for my soul 
It'd have to be. So what if I don't have a beautiful soul? 
Summer love, the romances from the old days 
They were supposed to be real, but I can see through them 
We all have fears, and I don't voice mine aloud 
But for in the darkness of the mirror 
Aesthetically pleasing maybe, I could be 
With blue eyes and red cheeks, sweaters and ripped jeans 
But my heart's too firey, just not when it should be
How could anyone ever be drawn to me? 
When I tell them how I feel, they'd smile sadly 
Like disappointing a hopeful child 
I really like you as a friend 
I can see through you, you're just saying that 

Miracle Cures

I found out something today 
The one thing the internet always tells you about your body 
Is that there's a chance you can "cure" it. 
I wish the media didn't hate every person 
For having a body 
Stretchmark search results is all about miracle cures 
Potions and spells and massage treatments 
That change the way you look 
For absolutely no reason 
Have you seen all the articles on "loosing fat quickly"? 
And they're not even for health reasons 
It's just to fit into the narrow idea of what people should look like 
And that's not even half of it. 
There's all sorts of "cures" and "fixes" for every natural part of your body 
And they're absurd and a waste of time 
And all they do is hurt people 
Why would I want to get rid of celulite or stretchmarks or make my chin defined 
I don't need pills or potions thank you I'm just fine 
Chubby cheeks aren't a curse,...

Darkness Waiting

The darkness closes in like a glove of black velvet
Worn on a hand that clasps my throat in its icy grip 
My shaking breaths allert the nearest creatures of my presence 
There's a sound from the bathroom, a steady drip drip drip 
And my brain is  going crazy and my heart might explode 
In the silence in the darkness surrounded by my fears 
How cold and sullen it can turn, once the cozy abode 
And the sickly sound of beating blood rings in my ears 
I count a list of deaths I'll die when dreams come to me 
My skin shivers with the eyes that boar into my skull 
If I were a Christian I'd pray they leave me be 
In this daring darkness both alive and dull 

You'll Think I'm Crazy Darling

You'll think I'm crazy darling, but 
I know I am. 
The love stories they told in the '80s 
They were what I dreamed about 
But never what I wanted 
There's a whole world I'm waiting for us
Not crumpets tea and jam 
You'll think I'm crazy darling, but 
I know I am. 
I'm wishing for the world 
In the palm of my hand 
But I'll hide amongst the brambles 
And the forest  
The shells and the sand 
I'm Juliet but I don't want a Romeo 
I'm waiting for someone who understands
I wanna live forever with them 
I want the friendships people talk about 
But never seem to have 
Not the shallow Instafriends who come and go 
I want my forever now 
Where is forever
How can we have that? 
You'll think I'm crazy darling, but 
I know I am. 

When We Were Younger

Is this a box of memories I found hiding 
In the bathroom of the primary school 
Away from the crowds 
And the world kept spinning inspite of all 
The memories we kept to ourselves 

I've walked on something I shouldn't see 
I've been born into a world that's already gone 
Darling the film is halfway through 
And I only just arrived 

Kisses stolen on the playground 
Between pre-schoolers who just learned what love is 
And they will never know what we went through 
But I will never know you 
Stolen kisses lunchtime fights 
It was all okay when we were younger 

I've been born into a world that's already gone 
Darling the film is halfway through 
And I only just arrived 
I wish I knew what went on in the years interveening 
You were in the real world I was left on dreaming 

Stolen kisses lunchtime fights 
It was all okay when we were younger 
Because pre-schoolers hiding in the...

The Story of My Life in 2189 Short Words

My life. It's a very long story, fourteen years and two months to be exact. And telling it will take some time, on my behalf and yours. So if you want to hear it, get yourself a cup of tea, cozy down on your favorite arm-chair, and let's begin. 
I think I shall start a few generations ago. Or rather, eight generations ago, with my many greats grandparents. They were English convicts, who were sent to live in Australia on one of the first Europian ships. They were sent by the horendous people who invaded Australia and were hailed as heroes. 
My many greats grandfather killed a wild boar, if I'm correct, and shared it with my many greats grandmother. I believe that's how they met. But if I go from this point, this story would be far too long, so we shall skip about seven generations, and jump right to the year 2000. 

It was the year my parents...

Creature of the Night

Somewhere, forest deep in darkness 
There's a creature who bears the same mind as I 
In the wild, beneath the kindom's stony arches 
The creature begs for something more than lies 
In xyr lair, beneath the willow tree 
Xe awaits another, like xyrself 
Torn as much as thee, 'tween to lives 
The creature's life in xyr fur cloak is running out 
And I, like you, fair creature of the night 
Am only as beautiful in self as thoughts the rest supplied 
And I, like you, was born to live and take flight 
Under the moon, no longer cresent, I'll say I tried

Gay Marriage Thoughts

Gay marriage. Rights to it have been the undoing of families, it's caused argument after argument, torn between the right to love and so called "religious freedom". I know it's part of what caused an argument between my best friend and I. 
    The age-old question is always, is it the LGBTQ+ Community's right to get married, or various religion's right to oppose it, that's more important? Well, facts first. Same sex marraige was legalized in Australia, in 2017, through a referendum. But here's another fun fact: Opposite-sex marriage has been legal, for as long as marriage has been legal. There has always been places, everywhere in the world that has marriage, where straight marriage has been legal. And guess what--they just called it marriage! 
    Now here's the problem with opposite sex marriage being legal and gay marriage not. Asside from the obvious violation of rights, and discrimination, what does that say about marriage as a whole?...

Silver Moonbeams

Falling from the stars to meet your 
    Eyes like flaming galaxies 
Falling from the heavens to meet 
Your eyes like the last embers of the fire 
    That used to live here 

I was a knite of my own ambissions 
    Too blind to see what love created 
    In this mortal land of yours 
Where I found myself whising for 
    The love of a mortal 

But you were too happy to see 
    That love can only end in pain 
    Pain and a cruel awakening 
Of what is real and what is fake 
    And I fell from the stars 
    Our lips will meet as the moon falls 
Our lives will connect with the passing 
Of all that was good and real 

But we were too young to see 
        This was part of the ancient world 
    And we were too in love...

An Ode to Club Penguin

This is an ode to the game I used to love 
Where you could travel the town and play on your own 
This is an ode to the game where you can't see people 
But you know they are there 
Behind screens in some distant country 
This is an ode to the game my sister found 
Through a seven day trial on the packet of Frozen 
And we played until it was gone 
And a part of my child-hood died 
This is an ode to the game that's been reborn 
But everyone who plays it's in college 
This is an ode to a game that'll surely end again 
This is an ode to Club Penguin 


Poetry is about capturing the beauty and the pain in life. And the pain in the beauty, and the beauty in the pain. Poets describe the indescribable. 

Words From Some Other Person's Tongue

Can you ever feel the beating heart of-- 
    Dreams we let go of when we awoke 
    Can you feel me falling 
For you? 

    Staring at those grey eyes filled with memories 
    I've never known 
And Cami's singing Ocean Eyes 
    But maybe he was wrong 
    Because it's not fifteen flares 
It's a whole world 
    And it's not just your eyes 
It's your smile. 

    You sing a song I should have heard 
        But haven't 
    And your voice rings through the icy air 
As our nerves jangle with the fear 
    Of the sweet nothings 
    Of theater 

It's words from some other person's tongue 
    But the way you sing them with the soul of one 
    Who really knows the struggle we've both felt 
How will we ever find ourselves? 

My tongue presses to my teeth  ...

An Imagined Love Story

There's a beautiful love story, the story of everything and nothing 
    I imagined 

There's a love story that I cried inside over 
        Because it will never be 
        You're eyes like shining diamonds in the rough of the universe 
    Can you even see me? 

You were nice 
    Too nice 
        Like the sweetest honey or the fields that conceal snakes
    Like the lies we tell ourselves to stay alive 
    To quell the swells of tears threatening to burst 
    Through the skin of death 
    That holds the secrets we kept for liftetimes 

    You were beautiful 
And it made me forget 
    That I wasn't. 
    Because really beneath the beauty and the stars 
    There's beating hearts 
Filled with blood 
    Sometimes the blood shows through 
    That's when we'll know 
    We're human 

The Green Room

"Are those TV Snacks?" Ben asked, grabbing the box from where it was poking out of my tote bag. "I LOVE these things." He held them and looked at them and looked at me.    
    "You can have one if you want," I said, shrugging.
    Ben tore open the box and the crinkly plastic. He took out one of the doughnut shaped buscuits, and I grabbed one too. They're not all that good, but when you're waiting to audition in the green room, racked with nerves and with nothing much to do, you'll take what you can get. 
    I took an aprehensive nibble of the buscuit. Ben had just convinced Cami to try one too, under the premise of "facing his fears". 
    The buscuit actually felt like a rock, and I swear it almost broke my teeth. "It's so... hard," I commented, eating it anyway. 
    "That's what... she said,"...

Cul De Sac

The cul de sac was where in the autumn I came home to 
For the first time in my life I could say that I was home 
And in two seasons in the spring the world bloomed 
Cherry blossoms adorning a garden where we could sit and be alone 
Alone but alive and alive with the song of the spring 

They put me under a cake cover on the carpet 
By the big picture window where we could see the lawn 
We shopped at the dairy or the big yellow supermarket 
There was joy here from dusk to dawn 
By the willows and the river and the school in the cul de sac 

We swung on the branches of the willows and above the water 
Danger and love and the feeling of being ourselves
My mother told me her mother said it didn't matter to be shorter 
As long as your feet still touch the ground 
When we grew older...

Rainbows and Ping Pong Balls

I stare at my shoes as I walk along the pavement. Matthew's just left, crossing the busy street on his way to wherever he lives. There's so much I don't know about my classmates, I think, like what's going on in their heads. 
    I find two things on the walk to the town center: An enamel badge that says "fresh boy tears", and a hideous orange ping pong ball. The first thing I find walking past the school, and I think: People say that you miss so much if you look at the ground, like the big things, but I think you miss the little things if you look up all the time. 
    The ground is wet. The kind of wet that means it's been raining for hours, and the air has just ridded itself of the relentless drops. 
    A group of boys, the kind that think they're jocks but are too young and...

A Leak

There's a strange leak in the new house. 
The house overlooks the ocean, perched at a percurious angle on the hillside. We just moved in, and it's quite a change from the dry and barran lands of the Pendleton Plains, where it was not uncommon to be caught in the midst of a dust storm. In a way I miss having to blink until your eyes stream with tears, when the red dirt catches under our eyelids. Just because it felt more like home. 
The leak in the roof where the rain pours in without hesitation, flooding the tiles with the freezing tears of the sky. I look out the window, which is splattered with raindrops and has fogged up from the cold. Out in the bay, there's a tiny sail boat bobbing aimlessly like a lost puppy amongst the crowds of the city. I can just make out the name, "The Tempest" on the boat's side. I wonder what...

On a Quiet Highway of Dreams

The goddamn tears in my eyes. 
I can't shake off the feeling of no belonging 
Why does my mind insist on wanting what 
Is never going to be real 
My reflection's there in the window 
And in my mind 
I'm not how I imagined me 
Short hair no princess Disney tresses 
But I can't believe how much I remember me 
The me I wanted to believe was real 
Every time I hear those stupid songs 
It's like a ghost that's always been there 
Tells me I don't belong 
I don't belong here
I'm not the me I thought I would be 
As a child in my home town 
But now it's a distant memory 
As I grasp as the sliver of smoke 
The steam that fogs up the window-pain 
Blinding us 
The stained glass windows of churches 
Where people preach about love 
And practise hate 
And there's the hot concrete 
That runs down the path to the sea 
But somehow...


My curser flicks back again 
To the little envelope shaped blue box 
Because even though you said you get 
Far too many emails to see mine 
And you said you'll reply 
You haven't 
I just want to talk again 
Like we do on Fridays 
My favorate day of the week 
Because I get to see you 
And I wonder how on earth I'll cope 
When we're gone 
When I don't see you anymore 
When all this is over 
Because we only met last term 
But you made me miss you every day 
And you don't even 
Remember me 
And these poems are all 
That keeps me sane 
As I watch 
And wait 
For something that will never come 
How I wish there was a little white "1" 
In the corner of my email 
And how I wish it was 
From you 

The Day

I'm waiting for the day 
It's somewhere in my future and I can feel it 
Brushing the sand off my legs as I walk along the beech 
Maybe there's someone out there I just don't know yet 
There's got to be someone waiting for me 
And I could be a new person 
I could be myself for the first time in a long time 
I could show them all, I could show them all that I'm 
Not afraid of the monstors that come from inside 
That I'm not afraid and I know if I said I'm not now I'd have lied 
But I won't be afraid by then 
Laughing in the face of danger 
Look around at this world where no-one fits in 
I'll get in with the misfits 
I'll be part of the midnight swimming crowd 
On the shores of beeches I've never seen
It's too late for now but I'm waiting 
Waiting for the day 
And I'll look...


Through the rain we walked 
Laughing with people I could never call my friends 
And yet it seemed so sweet and happy until the joy 
Met an untimely end 

Why does it pack such a terrible punch 
For something to be gone? 
It's so much worse than something existings 
And my heart broke just a little 

Talking to boys I know only by name 
About this messed up world and the people 
Who judge so much and don't give me a second 
Of peace 

Can we go to the bathroom? 
I just need to escape 
And excuse to get out of this place 
Why does it feel so wrong to get sympathy 
From a girl I don't know? 
It's like smiling at a stranger 

My eyes sting and my head's heavy
She was too kind, I don't deserve it 
She gave me her words and her smile and her time 
And I gave her my tears and my mind


Parting Hours


Can you imagine how long the hours felt? 
I can just feel the pain and waiting 
Years turned to hours turned to longing minutes 
Wanting it to be over before it had begun 
This world, this life, did he even believe 
There would be another one? 
I wonder if somewhere somehow 
He can hear the songs that were sung in his very memory 
I can just feel the way his hands would have shook 
Unable to write things unable to enjoy his parting hours 
Do you think he was afraid of what was to come 
I wonder if he'd read Hamlet 
I wonder perhaps if he was resigned to what lay ahead 
So there was no need to fear 
Did he stay awake all that night, waiting for dawn? 
To leave for Greenwich Villaige, do you think walk was long 
Just a few more minutes  ...

Pandemic Tunes

Idle Town

Idle Town. I didn't know who the singer was. I don't even know if I'd heard of Conan Grey when I first heard it, but something about that song spoke to me like no other. Maybe it's something that writers capture with their perfect lies, the feeling of nostalgia one has for something one has never experienced. It's almost like the fan fictions 12-year-old girls write about romance and love and forevers. For some reason, the song brings to mind a park full of trees, and something like the town my cousins used to live in. Oxford, New Zealand. When I asked if we could move to a little town, my mother told me I would get bored. I don't know if I would. I like the quiet of places away from the city. It's strange, because I love the song Idle Town, but it also makes me sad. I can't explain it. There's something in the back of my...

Our World

It's our world. 
We created it on a nighttime walk. 
Ciara and I decided on everything that's okay 
In this world 
It's built in the shape 
Takes the form of a castle 
Medieval but without the orpession it brings 
Wear what you want 
Old our new 
You can be who you want 
Spread your wings 
There's a cage on a hill 
Perhaps not entirely legal 
It rolls down the mountain 
On train tracks 
We don't accept anyone who will threaten 
The safety of our friends 
They're our family. 
We have ethically grown food 
Meat is okay but only imported 
From ethical farmers 
We don't kill anything here 
Marriage is encouraged 
Weddings of all kinds 
Gay is completely the same as straight 
They can be Christian Muslim Jewish 
Or not religious at all 
Or any other religion 
As long as it's not cruel 
Being racist leaves you with no place here 
You never belonged 
If you treat others with anything 


We were talking about bi stuff 
You said you made a new friend 
A bi girl 
I said like me 
And then I realized I 
Was talking to a random boy 
About being bi 
And about how girls think I'm straight 
And guys think I'm lesbian 
And I felt so strange 
To say it to somebody 
Like you
And when I said it you said 
I think you're amazing 
And it felt too close too home 
It touched the rambling part of my brain 
That over-thinks everything you say 
And I wondered why 
Did you really 
Think I was amazing?
Because I'm just the quiet kid 
Who talks about random schist 
And realizes I'm talking too loud 
So I shut up for too long 
And they ask if I'm okay 
And I start talking again 
But you said it. 
I think you're amazing 
And I couldn't stop thinking 
Had I complained too much 
And you felt like you had to...

A Speech

It's a speech so why is it 
So hard to say it out loud? 
We laughed when we practised 
In the hallway 
There's no people watching 
Waiting to jeer me 
And aplaud you 
It's a speech so why is it 
So hard to say it out loud? 
We were practising today 
And I can't help but think 
It's going to go down 
In flames 
Dam my fear of failing 
You're the perfect blonde 
With everything 
That you could ever want 
The brains and pretty face 
Well I have a heart 
My mind races 
As you say things that make 
So much sense 
Too much coming from you 
And I would rant about how you 
Think the world of yourself 
But I can't anymore 
Dam my concience 
And V won't tease me anymore 
About how I talk of you 
And it gets to me a little 
Because maybe inside 
I liked her talking like that 
Well maybe you're too smart for...

The Song that Glistens

They are out there listening 
From beneath the sea foam 
I want to know, have you heard them? 
These are the seeds we've sewn 
Of distruction 

They are out there watching 
With their eyes like glistening 
Can you feel them? 
There's a soft light in which they bask 

They are out there willing 
You on 
They are waiting for you 
They are praying to all the gods 
For a way that the sea 
Can swallow the darkness 
Inside of all 
Of us 

They are the song that glistens 
On the sound palette of the sea 
They intermingle with the roaring waves 
Lost sailors are we 
Tempted by the sirens' call 
But they'll show us the way 
The way home 

I Regret It

I always said I'd never regret 
Being born the way that I was 
I'll never let anyone take away 
How my life should go 
Stolen kisses under the stars 
As you fall for the ones you know 
Were never meant for you 
I always said I'd never regret 
Being born the way that I was 

But I do. 
I regret it every time 
I read the comments on posts 
That were supposed to be positive 
I regret it every time 
I remember 
You couldn't love me the way that I was 
I regret it every time 
I hear them mutter 
The words that break my heart 
Faster than a sledge-hammer 
Breaks a jewel 
Into pieces 

I do regret it. 
Why wasn't I born normal? 
Why couldn't I have lived the way 
That my parents did 
Why do I have to cry 
And wisper that I'm a monster 
To my mother 
Who supports me still 
But it felt like the world...

Super Heroes

We talked about being heroes 
We wanted to learn parkour 
Be able to fight any man 
We wanted to live life like pirates 
We wanted to be super heroes 
Or super villains 

Do you remember when we 
Were going to become warriors? 
When we were going to be able 
To beat any man in a fight? 
I do 

Do you think we ever will? 
Will we learn parkour? 
Will we practise boxing? 
Will we be able to 
Do medieval wrestling? 

It's already in the past 
But it's in the future 
We haven't even started 
But I know it will end 
I hope we do 
I hope we become super heroes 

Strings Tied to Lyrics

  • Do you all keep your memories stored in a box? Tied to a string and the lyrics of a song. 
  • I know my mind swirls with things I can't put into words, but there's strings that tie the lyrics of songs, to where they were first heard. 
  • From six months ago, Hozier's Take me to Church, still makes me think of the crossroads. Heading into the city with my sister, she played that song again. And that's when I listened to the lyrics. 
  • Jakie and Wilson makes me think of the hills. The valleys and fields of that island off the coast of Australia. I hear Jackie and Wilson and remember Tasmania. As we wound around the roads that go back and forth, like a pointless merry-go-round. 
  • And then there's Dorothea and Coney Island. They remind me of the Coles parking lot, on the way to somewhere far away. Road trips stick with me that way. 
  • And from Easter a...

Amber Eyes

Amber eyes in the current 
Look out at the pirate's ship 
Beautfiul and innocent 
With raven hair and auqua fins 

On deck is a pirate 
Her eyes narrowed and her blade drawn 
She's the picture of ruthlessness 
But the creature is so folorn... 

Together in the rock-pools 
Lay there counting the coloured shells 
And then the creature left to the seas 
On this the pirate often dwells 
Perhaps some day we'll meet again 
In lonely sea life or in death 

The Height of the Gods

You and I look over the ecean 
That tosses and turns the 
Sea-weed in its aqua-marrine wake 
What feels like it must be a million meters 
Only a moment it would take 
To fall 
You and I climbed to the height of the gods 
So far bellow is the secrets the 
Ocean hides 
And we're free-er than thou on our 
Throne of the giants 
Before our hands were tied 
You and I could fall now 
Would they ever find us? 
But we're alive we're alive 
For the first time 
The city's lights can't blind us 
Let's stand for a minute 
Take in the view 
Like a post-card seen from afar 
We were more back then 
Now we are just part of the world 
Like the moon and the stars 
Look out over the ocean 
It's dips and white peaks 
Nothing can keep our voices down 
Look out over the ocean 
Don't lean too close 
Or we'll drown 
In the...

Have You Ever Loved Someone?

Have you ever loved someone so much 
You couldn't take another breath 
In any world without them 
Being there 
By your side? 
Have you ever loved someone so much 
Their very existence is all 
That lets you sleep at night? 
Have you ever loved someone so much 
That when the fog clears 
And they're not there 
You're heart won't keep on? 
Have you ever loved someone so much 
Of their every wim and fanciful notion 
You can't help but play along? 
Have you ever loved someone so much 
You can't sleep at night 
For fear that when 
You awake 
They won't still be there? 
Have you ever loved someone so much 
That when you hug goodbye 
You don't ever 
To let go? 

Snow White

Snow White's skin like ivory 
Caressed in black lace torn from where 
She fell upon the branches of 
The ancient oak that's here 
In this place where Snow White stays 
Laying upon the bed of ivy 
And her long fingers curl around a locket 
It means more to her than this life 

Beautiful and dangerous 
Like a rose's lethal thorns 
And on the bed of ivy lies the princess 
Bedragled and folorn 
Her heart beats like the pulsing thunder 
Amidst a summer storm 
Her eyes' brightness fades away 
But her hands are stuck fast as the frost forms 

Snow White some fate has befallen 
Like a princess tempted to sin 
And her apple is only a fraction of it 
The real darkness lies within 
Where desires sweet and evil 
Are pushed down from prying eyes 
And her beauty is the devil 
And her prince is all but lies 

But her heart is not a frozen one 
In fact it beats...


My head feelings like it will implode 
It's hard to describe the feeling 
That everything could go so quickly 
From beautiful to dead 
Disaster is impending 
Hiding in the darkness that cacoons our house 
Every night 
It's there 
My head can't take it 
It's like it's waiting for the inevitible 
It's waiting for what will surely 
Appear from the darkness 
Claws of iron scraping on frosted glass 
The shapes lurking beneath the bed 
The shadow on the wall that 
No one can explain 
Until it's right there behind me 
I'm waiting for the end times 
Maybe things won't go so badly 
Maybe the monstors in the night 
Are just looking for a place 
To sleep safely 
Maybe the shapes under the bed 
Are all in my head 
Or they're here 
Because they deserve 
To sleep too 
Maybe the shadow on the wall 
And the claws on the glass 
Are all just warey creatures 
Their own lives 
And maybe...

I Remember Everything

I remember everything 
When I was wrong 
I remember all the times 
I had to play along 
Like I was a whole normal person 
I remember smiling awkwardly 
To a guy who acts like 
He doesn't hate me 
But he's in year 8 
Where I should be 
And I'm in year 9 
With a million people 
Who can't stand me 
And are a year older 
I remember every moment 
When I wished I could've said 
Something witty 
Instead of coming off 
As self assured and arogant 
I didn't mean to sound like I 
Believed in me 
I remember crying 
Storming to my locker 
Telling them everything 
Was okay 
Well I don't see how 
They believed 
That lie 
But it was 
And it is 
But at the same time 
I was crying 
As my heart broke 
For those I've never known 
I remember my burning cheeks 
When I said the teacher thought 
I should be a graphic artist 
I didn't mean...

Too Much History

What if we go back 
Too far? 
No-one ever told us 
Our fatal flaw would be 
Too much history 
What if it ends in heart-ache 
Friendships seared in the flames 
Of what wasn't meant to be 
What if our fatal flaw is 
Too much history 
We're not the lovers who just met 
Yet were destined to be 
You're not the new girl 
I'm not the kind-hearted bad boy 
We can't be 
This way 
With too much history 
What if it's the fatal flaw 
That no one ever warned 
Us of? 
What if we just go 
Back to far 
What if it ends in heart-ache 
No love and only pain 
What if we can't 
Do it all over again 
What if I've changed 
And you won't understand because 
You still see me as the 
Morally grey character 
Not the kind hearted bad boy 
Not the new girl 
We've too much history 

Spill Your Secrets Perfect Girl

Spill your secrets perfect girl 
There's nothing more hated 
Than loving the wrong ones 
What are you hiding beneath that shell 
Of perfection and delicate grace? 
I wish I knew what tragic fate hath befallen 
The girl with the innocent 
Look on her face 
Spill your secrets perfect girl 
Don't lie to the world's curious nature 
The universe can hear your 
Panicked breathing 
And you will never face her 
Spill your secrets perfect girl 
What innocense have you lost in the path 
Of true love and worshipping 
Gaia or others 
What worlds are hidden 
In your young mind 

I Love the Feeling

I love the feel of the wind in my hair 
Driving past the harbor up high 
And I can't see a single human other 
Than these four people 
I could fly 

I love the way day dreams 
Turn to wistful fantasies at night 
And I love the way the grass is 
Just as deadened on the other side 

Where's the pressure to be loved? 
When love is dead and only 
Fire is alive 
Where's the hate we feel 
When hate is just reverse love 
Reserved for the hated 

I love the feel of my hands on the rocks 
Scrambling for a foot-hold 
I love the way the gulls screach at the docks 
Let's forget what we've been told 
Where's the pressure to be loved? 
When love is dead 
And only 
Fire is alive 

I love the freedom wings bring us 
Gold-dusted feathers 
Like white opals 
Coated in the longing 
Sap waiting to be turned amber 

I love the feelings of...

I Want to Quote Songs I've Never Heard

I want to quote 
The greatest songs I've ever heard 
When I see you lying 
Drifting in the water 
I want to say things 
I don't know how to tell you 
But you are still 
Hell's only daughter 
And it's beautiful 
I wish I could see this moment 
In a freeze frame 
Forever here 
Forever us 
Nothing less 
Nothing more 
I want to quote 
Songs I've never heard 
By musicians that don't exist 
In a world we could never 
As you drift to the depths 
Suspended in the green 
Glorious water 
Your skin takes on a 
Glowing sheen 
Like liquid gold 
And now I remember 
From years ago 
Something that drifted away 
To the depths of my murky mind 
And it's just the same 
Death and life intermingled 
In a way I cannot describe 

13 Short Hours

It's just 13 short hours till I see you 
You with your eyes like copper 
Hair like threads of spider silk 
Thirteen hours of waiting 
Waiting for you 
12 poems I've written for you 
This week 
Oh all the poems are really 
About you 
11 years old that's how old I turned 
They day I fell in love with you 
6 hours of singing 
And drawing 
With you 
10 Is how old I was when we met 
It's the age you made an impression 
On me 
So please please 
Don't ever leave 
9 is the years I've known 
My best friend in the world 
But I feel as if I've known you 
8 is how old I was 
When the world changed 
When I left the only home 
I'd ever known 
But it was worth it 
Because I met you 
7 is the lines this poem took 
To tell you I love you 
It was...

My Ramblings

Fae's the only one who gets my ramblings 
My random ridiculous pointless talk of love 
Faer blonde hair and green eyes that change to blue 
Are so familiar now it's as if 
I can see myself in faer eyes 
And fae is gentle and cares 
But faer eyes glow with fire when 
The danger gets too near 
And fae reads my poems even when 
They mean nothing to anyone 
But me 
Maybe fae's me in another life 
Another world 
Put there by the world 
To show me what I could see 
Fae's the only one who gets my ramblings 
So if you read this pointless talk of love 
Be patient with the ones like faer 
They're hard to find 
And impossible to forget

Steel Blue Eyes

Can you really fall in love 
From somebody's eyes 
I won't describe with those silly similes 
I'd regret it if I tried 
But it's the way you look over the ocean 
Observing with the look of someone 
Who's seen the world 
And been alone 
It's the way you're eyes glint 
Like you're holding secrets 
We would be humored by 
It's the way you look down the hills 
With no fear in your steel blue eyes 
For if you fear the world 
What point is there in life? 
It's how your eyes glow brighter 
Illuminated by fire light 
And I can't help but wonder 
What's going on in your mind 
It's the way you smile like the world's at your feet 
Or the worlds are crumbling to the ground 
And thought your eyes hold silent tears 
I've never heard you cry 

It's Been Three Years

It's been three years my darling 
And all those feelings people said 
Were too insignificant 
Were fake 
Were sins 
Are still right here in my heart. 
It's been three years I've begun to wonder 
Is there no stopping my crazy mind 
It's been three years and how I've wondered 
Is it maybe love of some kind? 
Most people say to shoot your shot 
What's the worst that could happen? 
It's that I could loose you 
It could all end in flames 
No us 
No friend for forever 
It's that maybe she was right 
I feel as if I've known you 
For my whole life 
But it's been three years 
And I still can't 
Get you off my mind 
So darling when we laugh like kids 
And reminiss 
About the ghosts we created 
I still can't wait to live my life 
Always by your side 
So darling let me tell you though 
You'll never read these words 
I'm trying to tell...

To Love Someone New

The winter air stings my cheeks like the ocean's freezing waters 
I can't help but think, are we meant ot be? 
And my hands clasp together, a shield to the world 
And I can't quite describe what I see 
We were walking down by the shore on the day 
That I fell in love with somebody 
Who I knew I should despise in every sense 
But they way your smile floods my senses 
And I can't help but smile to the world 
And the gulls that peck around at the sand 
To pick up the reminants of those that fell 
The ocean's fallen warriors 
And the outcasts left for dead 
The winter air stings my cheeks and I huddle in wool 
Wrapped around me like a suffocating mist 
And it's not that I wish you would see me how I see you
It's that I want to be around you 
The ocean roars its wistful call 
And I wonder are...

I Wish

It's memories we never made 
Something I'm waiting to want 
It's the moments that last and fade 
Before they've begun 
I wish I could see the sky 
Dancing clouds above us 
One last time 
It's memories I've never known 
Friends I've never meet 
Hearts I never wished 
I could understand 
It's those I'll never see 
From places I'll never go 
Living lives I'm not part of 
But how I wish to know 
One more heart-ache 
For what my heart aches 
I can't understand 
One more love of this 
Mortal coil while I take a stand 
One more heart who's glory 
And all but understands 
And lives inside mine 
It's memories we've never made 
In places I've never been 
I want to smile and hold your hand 
As we count the stars we've seen 

Box of Memories

There's still a box of memories 
Thoughts that I abandonned 
Of past loves and all those 
Notes people called random 
There's still a box of memories 
Exiled from my head 
I keep that box of memories 
Tucked safely beneath my bed 
I remember things I wish 
I wish I could forget 
I remember what I thought 
On the day we met 
And I remember wondering 
Was he really so bad 
And clearly I recall so many 
Things that made me mad 
But it's not just what I regret 
Speaking to the world 
It's the things I wish 
I could unthink from 
My head it swirls 
With all these things I suddenly 
Can't bear to disclose from my mind 
And if I'm being honest dearest 
There is no box of memories 
It's all stuck in my head 

The Hills (A Series of Short Poems)

The hills are steepest at this point 
And we can't yet see the bay 
But the hills make us smile 
And laugh and talk 
And by the end we won't 
Forget this day 

In the dining room that looks out 
Over the water and teh bay 
Where someone once drowned 
The hustle and bustle is calming somehow 
As we sit in the afternoon submerged in sound 

I told you secrets I've never told 
Opened up my world to you 
And you can't even see what I try to say 
As we gaze over the deep blue 

Bus-rides are like the precious secrets 
I so gladly spilled 
Talking and wishing 
All thinking the same thing 
Sitting in the silence we killed 


Like Home

We'll be back again tomorrow 
To this old place we know 
Full of mystery and secrets 
And it feels like home 

The Whole Entire Galaxy

She is the world and what lies above it 
I doubt she's ever hurt a soul 
She is the sound of my beating heard 
Maybe this will last until we grow old 
Her green eyes hold worlds unseen 
And her smile is the sweetest I've eveer seen 
She is the call of the ocean's deapths 
And the beauty that lasts for moments fleeting 
She watches the world with dangerous grace 
How on earth is a human like this 
But maybe she's not from this world 
Maybe her eyes are Jupiter's moons 
(Does Jupiter have moons?) 
Maybe her smile is the rising sun 
That lights up all in love and death 
Maybe her eyes are dying stars 
Like light you can''t comprehend 
She is the whole entire galaxy 
And she when she smiles it sends 
Me into the stars 

Pride Month Piece: Feelings, Finding Us, and Foes

It's time I started talking about being bi. Wow. Just writing that sentance gave me an inexplicable jolt of fear. It's not exactly like I'm in the closet or anything, I mean, I was eleven when I told my friend in Harry Potter Kiss Kill or Marry to include female characters. But the thing is, I never really say it. 
    I realized I was bi around that time, when I was eleven. I don't even remember what made me realize, I just remember I tried to not make a big deal out of it. 
    A bit later, I went for a walk with my best friend and my sister. My friend started talking about sexuality, and how half of our child-hood friend-group turned out to be bi or lesbian. I remember just casually saying  that I liked girls. That I had feelings for a girl. My sister asked who. That was three years ago, and to...

A Strange List Poem

Dear all of us 
I want you to know these things 
So I've compiled a list 
It's you the greatest person 
So this is how to live 

  • My first piece of advice is this: Never forget to be kind 
  • For all are fighting battles of the heart and the mind 
  • My second piece of advice is crucial 
  • So listen closely dear 
  • Others aren't the only ones of this who need to hear 
  • Entertain strangers and angels and the like 
  • But remember as well to yourself be kind
So that's the list my darlings 
But that's not all there is 
    Remember to let the world know you exist 
Here are a list of ways in which you can tell them this: 
  1.     Number one is key, it's simple. Don't hold back what you know. 
  2. Number two it's true that you are a voice and so 
  3. Let them hear it. 
  5. You are beautiful, you know. 

We Are

We are the autumn leaves 
Plucked delecately from lonely trees 
We are the finest webs of Arachne 
That string and tangle, don't leave me be 

I know there's a million thoughts in our minds 
Of beauty and misguided love 
I know it hurts to see something 
So beautiful 
It makes you wonder 
Who am I? 

We are the rain drops that fall 
And adorn the window-pain 
We are the red roses so fragile 
Coloured red with blood stains 

There's a thousand broken pieces 
Woven together into something 
No soul could ignore 
We are the clouds that lace the sky 
And the shining eyes that implore 

I can see you through the mist 
Covering the car windows at dawn 
I can feel your softest touch 
As I'm warey and folorn 
But we are the winds that push 
Even the strongest trees 
We are the waves that crash 
Searching for something 
That was lost out at sea 


I'm the eye of a hurricane
The calm before the storm 
Can I keep it all inside 
I'm the waves on the cliffside 
Relentless and strong 
I'm the rain that falls 
Like a sea shanty song 
I'm the eye of a hurricane 
The calm before the storm 
Can I keep it all inside 
No-one sees the feeling 
In our eyes 
No-one hears 
Us weeping 
Or screaming 
They should see the fire 
In my eyes 
I'm the eye of a hurricane 
The calm before the storm 
I can't keep it all inside 

Remember this Somehow

The gravel crunches under our feet 
I look across at you, trying to read your features 
The light is gone now as we trapse along 
Laughing and talking on the path 
That leads to the peer 
And all the mysteries the water holds 

There's something magical about knowing 
That I can trust someone again 
There's something beautiful about how 
You can make anyone your friend 
And I love the way the trees rustle 
And everything feels alive 
And I love the way we walk together 
The beauty of when a moment dies 

The waves crash and jostle on the rocks 
Just past the trees, submerged in dark 
And it's a rythmn, a pace that's steady 
Not slow not fast not soft not stark 
It's just a little farther now 
To the peer and another chance 
To be friends 

We lean over the water 
Legs dangling five meters high 
We lie on our stomachs looking out 
At the boat that passes...

The Moon Who Fell

Blushing cheeks 
I bite my lip 
I close my eyes 
And hope what I said 
Didn't come out wrong 
I turn away 
My hands over my face 
I still smile 
I'm lost in space 
You're the stars 
You're the sun 
I'm the moon 
Who fell to hard 
For you 

Hair Like Gold

Heart beats that 
I love the way 
Your platnum hair 
Falls in your eyes 
I love the way 
You smile with your heart 
Like an innocent child 
Not yet torn apart 
By the world 
I love the way 
You are always composed 
But I hate the way 
You never show 
What you feel 
Fall in the surf 
Run away with the ocean 
I see you for the first time 
In focus 
And your cornflower eyes 
And hair like gold 
Make me think 
How's it fair 
That you get to hold 
So much glory? 

Rain (trying a new style patern thing)

Falling outside 
I wish I could feel it 
Washing over me like anger 
The anger at being born into a world 
Where so much is wrong and I can't help 
It falls fast 
A million little drops 
Filled with the numbing cold 
It numbs the pain we never felt 
I want to be 
I want to be out there 
Let it touch my broken soul
Like nothing else in the world 
I feel it 
I feel pain 
I feel it is us 


It's a word we didn't know 
When we were kids 
Meant anything 
But what it is 

I love the way you look at me 
When I can't help but smile 
Eyes like amber 
Set in stone 
And all the things 
We shouldn't feel 

I was shy 
Rambling about flowers 
And then regretting it 
But it's why we met 
So there's no regret 

It's a secret 
It's hidden 
It's wanted 
And hated when it's real 
It pulls you in like a riptide 
And hearts beat fast 
As the storm carries us 
We've never been 

Smile at me in the darkness 
Walking to the peer 
Looking out over the 
Dark water 
Like pools of lethal ink 
Surrounding us 

Silence that's so loud 
It pushes in 
From all sides 
Silence that so loud 
I can't tell 
What I'm feeling 

It hurts 

Truth or Dare

Truth or dare 
It's such a simple game 
Childish and immature 
So why is it my favorite? 
I love the nostalgia 
The feeling of us 
Blushing kids with 
Secrets no-one knows 

Truth or dare 
I still see you the same 
Like a child in the park  
Playing games 
For as long as we can 

Truth or dare 
I blush scarlet when 
You ask me 
For a secret 
I'll never tell 
It's like we've always 
Known each-other 

Truth or dare 
It starts as boring 
Just something to do 
And it ends with you 
Knowing me 
And me knowing you 
A little too much 
We avert our eyes 
Don't lock eyes or you 
Can't help but smile 
And the people laugh 
It's all the same 
As back when we 
Were happy kids 

Over and Over

I can't explain it 
Not to you; not to anyone 
It's intangible 
At least I think that's the word 
But I feel like I'm the character 
The one who flirts with her 
Over and over 
And she just can't see it 
Except no-one sees it 
Because we see what we want to 
At least I know I do 
Well that's me in a nutshell 
I'd love to give her roses 
Over and over 
Until she sees it 
Or someone does 
But no-one sees it 
I smile and laugh 
And tell bad jokes 
That turn out to be funny 
But sometimes I wish I was 
That character.
The one who fell for her 
So much 
I can't concentrate 
On anything 
But her 
And I want to be that character 
Who's a mess around her 
Who can't stay still 
Who gives her roses 
And tells lame jokes 
Over and over 
Over and over 

Go Back To When

Dreaming about the way you smiled 
God my heart has been through 
I tuck a pen behind my air 
Wishing I could go back 
Say all the right things 
If only I could turn back time 
Dreaming about the day we met 
Your fishnet tights and bucket hat 
Your beautiful smile 
If only I could turn back time 
Go back to then 
Go back to when 
I thought I knew myself 

The Sky

The darkest sky rolls in like black ink 
As the last fragments of dusk shiver and die 
We can't see the stars anymore 

Some strange light shines on the grass 
It's like the reminants of an alien invasion 
But the aliens just want what we do 

The air stings our cheeks 
Painting our faces with washed out scarlet 
But where's the moon anymore? 

Laughing and smiling 
It's like the world is so far away 
And the darkness in the distance encases us 
Like a cacoon 

The gleam in our ancient eyes 
Of all the horrors we have seen 
The sky is the most beautiful 

In the half-light I can see these ghosts of ours 
Created from moonlight silk 
As the moon dies 

It's a flood of everything and nothing 
Like the white noise of the crickets' humming 
And I can't quite grasp this moment 
I can grasp the sky 


We're going fast but it feels slow 
I can already picture it 
You smile 
But you turn away 

It's a roadtrip I'll remember 
And a moment I'd like to forget
This music will always make me think 
Of us 
And what we never 

Over the mountains 
Listening to music 
I've never heard 
Just a little way further 
These memories stick like burrs 
Oh how I'd love to forget 

And still 
I guess it's to late to regret 
Driving over the hills 
Past the trees 
With freshly cast memories 
That ended far too soon 

The Closest I've Felt to Home

Just two girls 
Wandering aimlessly 
Around the suburban streets 
That one calls home 
I remember my home 
Where I used to walk 
To the river 
And swing on the willows 
It was so long ago 
Just two girls 
Walking a dog 
Run quickly past the fence 
There's room to be us 
Just two girls 
One tall one short 
Walking for hours 
Tick tick tick 
Dusk sets 
I should go 
But I don't want to leave 
The closest I've felt to home 
In so long 
You and I 
Making conversation 
About this messed up world 
We call home 
Just two girls 
To the world careless 
Talking like old friends 
And we are 
In a way 
But not the way 
You would understand 
Just two girls 
Wandering aimlessly 
Back tracking down alleys 
Stop on the grass verge 
Dusk sets 
I should go 
But I can't leave 
The closest I've felt to home 

You Rest in the Stars

My darling all is not lost 
I know it's hard 
But I'm still here 
Watching over you 
From the stars 

Some of us seem too small 
Like a drop of star-dust 
In a bucket of darkness 
I know the light is far away 
For just a moment please stay 

Do you remember the stories 
You and I used to read? 
As the sun sets gold and red 
Reliable and lovable 
I know we knew the world back then 
I hope you can see me 
Through a looking glass 
Or through a mirror 
I see myself in you 

Darling we're so different 
But our hearts are bound forever 
And though I've never met you 
The world won't forget you 
Darling you and I could be 
The best of friends 
For in a world of hate and love 
What good is being enimies? 

And in those thoughts 
Rampaging through your glorious mind 
I know you're thinking 
Who is she 
To tell me...

Starlight (A Collection of Short Poems Under One Title)

It's a drop of glowing fire 
In the heart we never knew 
I stand with a flaming glare 
Dispersed in the deep blue 

I'm a shadow in the dusk 
That settles like pollen 
Over the dreary hills 
I'm the brain grey 
No-one sees 
I'm nothing but 

I wish I could tell you how 
I love you 
Can't you read it in 
My features 
When my cheeks glow 
Like burning roses 

I wished for honesty 
And then I lied 
I wished you could hear me 
Except I hide 
I've murmered it a million times 
And it's still a lonely silence 
I hope you hear me 
Will I lie? 

When we grow up 
We can't be the carefree 
We are the lonely 
When we grow up 
I'll still wait 
Wait in the silence 
That lifts with the sound 
Of screaming 


My Neighbor Believed in Everything

My neighbor believed in everything  ?I mean, what else is there Magpies are all devils in disguise  At night there's armies  Marching side by side    Oh what a world some will see How nothing can shape it  No one can make our world  Change    My neighbor believed in everything  The water from the taps  Is the witch's potion  There's someone waiting  To take a child  Away    In the alleyway  By the park  It gets scary  After dark  Like the little box on the pole  Where I used to think  Lived a creature  With a teeny tiny home  Maybe it was just my dreams    But still it seeems  That there's a little bit of magic  Now that the world I live in is lonely  I can see  Why my neighbor believed in everything 

Why We'll Fly

She and I walked  
But it felt like floating 
She laughed at my bad jokes 
And my heart glowed 
    And we talked and we talked 
    About this world we know 
And we realized why 
    We are all flawed 

Did you know 
Did you know 
    Everyone is flawed 
    We are broken pieces 
Left shattered on the earth 
But here's the thing, here's the thing-- 
    That's why we're here darling 

There's a place far from here 
    Beautiful and wonderful 
    And all to perfect to be real 
There's somebody out there 
Who creates us 
Who makes us 
Who ruins our lives 

Have I told you 
    That we're broken 
    And that's why we're here? 
No-one here is whole 

We are the rejects 
    The ones that didn't make the cut 
    We are the ones the lost in the dust  ...

Tarmac Mixed With Rain

The little patch of grey sky I can see is misty 
It looks like oil paint that hasn't quite been finished 
Decorated with the spindly branches of a trees naked branches 

The cars that pass in the puddles make a sound 
Like the roaring of a tiny ocean 
I wonder what it must be like to be those people 
Wizzing past this place so quickly 
They won't remember 

The orange bricks that hold up the balcony 
I can tell they'll be cold 
More cars pass 
Their wheels spinning like water turbines 
A mix of tarmac and rain 

Cyprus trees 
Ugly and pointless 
A waste of space 
Just like anyone on a rainy day 
But I love them 
Because they feel like home 

The sky opens up like a lamp 
Bright lights flooding and falling 
To a ground emersed in water
Rain mixed with tarmac 
And the dust that's been there 
For a while 

Shadows cast in the living room 

Don't Believe Me

Don't believe my ramblings darling 
I can't say it's all the truth 
Do you believe in fairy tales? 
I shall not say whether I do 
Don't believe the haunting song 
I sing to the hill-tops and valleys 
Don't believe me if I tell you 
There's a world out there 
It's just us 
No fairy-tale ending 
Just children in a world 
Where hate's always impending 
Don't listen to a word I say of 
Nonsense and balderdash 
It's all in our heads 
What a wonderful world 
We'll never know 
Don't believe a word of it 
The moments when the moon sings 
And the stars laugh 
And fairy-tale endings 
Don't seem so far off 
I'm just a child with too much to loose 
Wishing and loving and dreaming as I choose
I'm just the wind that blows in your hair 
I'm just the shiver that runs through the mountains 
I'm just a poem no-one ever read 

Sonnet No. Something

Look out over the lake in the morning 
We'll see through the falsehood and shadow beams 
To a world where the new day is dawning 
And the blade to end humanity gleams 
I've never known such a brazen hero 
You dare to be the sunlight you were born 
We live in a garden where moonlight grows 
Intertwining our heartbeats they are torn  
As the sunlight seeps out murmer my love 
In a quilted blanket of our sorrows 
Then fly, let go, spread your wings like a dove 
Leave our hearts alone beating, they're hollow 
    Look out, my love, to the gleaming ocean 
    'Tween love and hate a glorious notion 

Never Dine With Gnomes

Now you may find it funny 
Or you may find it odd 
But I guarrantee you you should never 
Dine with a gnome
Let's just say they won't be eating 
Roast chicken or grilled cod

If you like snails, grubs and garden slugs 
Or you think garden dirt 
Is really most delectable 
Then you might not scream 
"Get out you little thugs" 
When you dine with gnomes 

Now they're sweet and cute and friendly 
And they can come in handy 
When planting flower beds 
But I wouldn't advise dining with them 
If you don't wish to eat 
Grilled toad or pickled sparrow head

I would advise strongly against 
Dining with the gnomes 
Would you care for a drink 
Of pondscum with green foam? 
And in your bowl of sugar 
Wriggling squirming worms 
There really is a lot of food 
With which to come to terms 

Now all that I've mentioned 
Is really quite disgusting 
To take food from gnomes 

The Candle Holder

The black and white photo sits above the hearth. I asked Ma why it's there years ago. She just shrugged and told me some things just are. I still fail to imagine why someone would wish to keep a photo of an old candle holder. That's all the picture is, there's no wax on it or even a candle. The photo is dated the 5th of June 1913, strangely enough, the day Aunt May died. I wonder if it's some sort of sentimental reason Ma has to keep it, though a dark one at that. 
    It's been four years. The night Aunt May died was one that followed a pleasant day. A beautiful one near the end of Spring. No-one found her till the next morning, Lying with a cup of tea in her hand, and another, left untouched on the table. Since then I've always feared living alone. But there was something else on the table. A...

The Last Light

Run away with me 
Catching fairies in the dusk 
Tumbling lights 
Falling like stars 

Light up the grass 
The tinkling of tiny footsteps 
If you find a fairy ring 
You'll soon find the faes

Child-like in joy 
Kept in a jar 
Dreams and fantasies 
Encased in glass

Run away with me 
Lost in the valley 
Of all that we dream 
And the mountains of the moon 

Catching faes in the grass 
As  the skin of day 
Peels off to an inky night
The last light


It's like a love story I'm reading 
Written in scriptures I wouldn't understand 
It's like your red cheeks and fair hair are something 
Taken out of a novel 
Stunningly described 
In perfect fractures 
It's like you and him are the heroes 
Of a story I could never know 
It's like your smile shines brighter 
But I can't feel the glow 

I feel as though I'm floating 
In amber 
Set in wax 

But will I ever know what it is to be like you? 
Care-free and grinning 
If only, you could 
But you never would 
Care about me 

My breath hangs in the air 
Like a winter fog over the forest 
Your presence is known yet 
I feel alone 

There was a moment before when you 
Smiled at me 
You broke the forth wall 
Around you my presence 
Is so little 
Is this what it feels like 
To narrate a story 
That's not my own? 

I trespass 
I know I...

Place Poem

A Lullaby of Content

The sea air licks at passers by with salty vigor 
Sea-gulls screach depravedly in a ruchus, like a fight to the death 
The swings of the playground swing aimlessly in the evening air

My hands settle upon the bare wood of the picnic table 
My hair is buffeted by the breeze coming in from the bay 
Nicholas makes a joke that shouldn't be made and I glare at him 

The scent of fish and chips wafts out from the fish-n-chip-shop 
I wonder what on earth posessed them to put a giant lobster the size of a car on the roof 
Down by the shore the little shells are left to be crushed by giant's footsteps

Bike-riding in the dark, swooping to and fro like drunken swallows 
Hurtling down gravel paths at a speed that could easily be deemed unsafe 
A friendly dairy-cow looks over the fence from her giant amber eyes, framed with long lashes 

A crowd of lanky cyprus...

All Our Lives

Kiss my hand 
    The train ride there is long 
    Remember when we were kids? 
You and I didn't get along 

Brush your cheek to mine 
    In the frosty autumn air 
    In the park just north of here 

    What do you believe my darling? 
Is this all there is? 
    No life, no moving on 
    So in these moments live 

Live for the roses that scatter 
    Petals on my neatly kempt lawn 
    Live for the stolen lovers 
Live for what you'll never 
Believe is real 

    Kiss my hand 
I love the lake and the 
Pastures and the drive 
    We fell in love when we were kids 
    Now it's all our lives

The Gods Praise

She's beautiful in ways the gods praise 
Golden hair and shining eyes 
On the darkest days
But the heart like stone 
With lock and key 
Burried in the amber cage 
I guess the problem's me 
Her eyes glaze with frost 
Her heart hardens to ancient stone 
And those around are left 
Tortured to the bone 
She's beautiful in ways the gods praise 
She was the cuase 
Of my darkest days

The Roses I Gave You

See the roses I gave you 
They're growing in the garden 
And I wanna know do you 
Think of me when the rain falls 
As the petals drop to the ground 

See the roses I gave you 
Pink and white like candy floss 
A circus a childhood 
Burried in the ground 

And I wanna know do you 
Think of me when the rain falls 
As the petals whither and die 


Was this something we should've said 
There are so many things we should've said 
But the roses that I gave you 
Stick in our heads 
And the day that we sat 
On a bench in the park that's 
Where we should've stayed 


Sand in my hair 
There's a light in your eyes 
Looking out across the bay 
There's a moment when I think you'll stay 
There's a golden light in 
Everything we didn't say 

See the rose I gave you 
Pink and light like candy floss  ...

There are No Ties to Blood

Blood is thicker than water 
So why's it not the 
Dam blood 
That was spilled? 

No blood can make a damsel 
Be true to what she's never 
No blood can make me 
Change my mind 

Blood is thicker than water 
So what about the blood 
That you won't admit 
Still stains our very 

Ivory and furs 
Oak and mirrors 
Everything in glory can 
Never erase 
What they've done 

There's no blood that can 
The blood spilled 
The ghosts and graves 

Water is all you gave us 
Blood is all you made us 
The ones who had everything 
Could take as little as naught 
And they took the worst 
They took free though 

So no, my darlings 
All of you 
There is no ties to blood 
There is no law that says we must 
Stay to what we're born 
Blood is blood in scarlet hues 
That stain the violet sky 
Blood is blood it doesnt keep 

I Scraped My Knees

I scraped my knees 
The holes in my jeans left 
Bare pale skin 
To the mercy of the bark 

I scraped my knees 
When I fell from the tree 
But it doesn't bother me 
After all 
I climbed the tree

I scraped my knees 
On a cold autumn day 
The last day of the season 
Betwixt the cold and the red 
Of the leaves 

I fell from the tree 
My palms to the bark 
Brace for the landing 
As light turns to dark 

I climbed to the top 
Overlooking the park 
Who cares about beauty when 
You can see 
So far 
As I fell 
I scraped my knees

The Sting of Autumn Rain

The hills are alive 
    But not with the light 
    The life 
We dreamed of 

The hills are alive 
    But it's all to survive 
    The sting of autumn rain 
    You and I 
Looking out over the ocean 

The hills are alive 
    But the music dies 
    Like the singing of 
A thousand crickets 

You and I looking out 
Over the cliffside 
    So far to fall 
    But what's left of this place? 

This life's an adventure 
    So far to go 
    Like the fall from a tightrope 
    Scrawled ink across the page 
Of the stormy sky 

Sweet rain like 
    Mulled wine 
    The spices are all that 
    This life leaves to the rain 
On the tips of our tongues 
We're laughing again 

The hills are alive 
    Like the little houses 

When the World Implodes

I don't want this to be 
The end 
Is it the beginning? 
Are we just deaths that never lived 
In a world where we 
Were always meant to be 

I don't want this to be 
How we say goodbye 
No precious moments just 
Stars in the sky 

I don't want to see you 
Like this 
Someone who fell 
Just short of glory 

I don't want to cry 
When the stars are alight
I don't want to wish you luck 
For this sisyphean flight 
And know you might 
Never land 

Please hold my hands 
One more time 
Before the world implodes 
You and I were 
How'd we become this? 

So I'll say goodbye 
In advance 
Before the sky 
And the stars 
And the world 

Daisy (an attempted song)

This is the last love song I'll ever write
Dear daisy I wonder have you heard 
That life didn't just move on 
I wonder did you know 
This is moving on 

Daisy I know I said some things 
I don't regret a bit of it 
I wonder have you heard 
That life didn't just move one 
This is moving on 

This is the last love song I'll ever write 
Dear daisy your name remind me 
Of things I wanna forgot 
Dear daisy have you heard 
That life didn't just move on 
I wonder did you know 
This is moving on 
Daisy I know I said some thing 
I don't regret a bit of it 
I wonder have you heard 
That life didn't just move on 
This is moving on 

Do you remember sitting under the willows 
Do you remember the dying leaves we pulled 
I guess this is it for us 
Daisy I know I said some thing 
But believe...

Tell You There's Dust in My Eyes

Let's go back then 
For the last time for the first time 
I cry 
I tell you there's dust in my eyes 

Smoke an' mirrors baby 
Walking alone in the moonlight 
Why can't we go back then 

And the last time I cried 
I'll tell you there's dust in my eyes

Never Again: Prologue

I twiddle my straw in the iced chocolate, still not looking him in the eyes. I look around the cafe, willing myself to be gone from this place and away across the country sooner. But it doesn't work like that. The Mustard Duck Cafe has been here, in the very same spot, with the very same lop-sided sign out front, since longer than Sebastian or I can remember.
    I can feel Seb looking at me, waiting for me to speak. In hindsight, it probably wasn't a particularly clever idea to write in the note that I had something of drastic importance to tell him. 
    "Charlie?" Seb says, leaving me no choice but to turn and look him in the eye. I turn and look at him, the boy I've known for years. And yet someone how I have no idea what he's thinking in this moment. 
    "I guess I should tell you," I say,...


The indescribable 
    It's beautiful 
    We try to describe the ones 
Who matter 

    I wonder 
    Is there method to the way     
We can't describe 
And yet we try and try 
    To hide what we describe 
    As being infinite 

Finite numbers 
    How many of us there are 
    Yet how many hearts have left us? 
    Is infinite 
Do you know I still love you 
Though who am I and who are you? 

After all we're just messangers 
    For what shouldn't be described 
    Do you know you are the sound 
Of your voice in the dark 
    Do you know I am the feel 
    Of the wood that fills the park 

Do you know we are the song of 
The endless 
The dreary 
    The staggered lines of verse 
    That never seem to end 


Never Know

We pluck stars from the sky 
    In a way you'll never understand 
    We're the ones who were shunned 
For trying to take a stand 

Listen to the song 
    Sung by the dying sun 
    Listen for the fairies 
    As they hop and skip and run 
Take the moon in your hands 
Resting beneath the sky 

    For the moon too is a creature 
Delicate in thine eye 
    And if you've ever known the pain 
    A thousand arrows to the heart 
    You'll know the joy 
Of a heart that beats again 

We watch the sun rise 
Thinking and humming 
    The song of the grass 
Watch as we lie 
And stay here 
    In the green cast of 
    Gaia's plans for us 

You can never know 
You can neve hear 
    You'll never see the way 
    Faes tremble...

Two Girls

In the apple orchards that span 
Vast across the farm-land
    There's a girl, with oak tresses 
    Two girls, wearing cotton dresses 

Where silver dusted lips meet 
In this lonely world 
    One beautiful conciet 
Two doves with angel's wings 
Spread such and bloom and fly 

And as the girls' hands are tied 
    To die or be so alive 
    To love this ancient sin to which 
Girls were born in beauty 
    To live or live a stolen life 
        To kiss, or intertwine hands and die


Who are We?

It's not a quote, dear friends. It's not a rule that one must live by merely to survive, or a philosiphy passed down generation after generation. It's merely something I thought of this very moment, huddled against the chilly air in an alpacca blanket, nestled on the couch: There is  no differenter perspective from our own, than our own. I mean, half of your life, if, like myself, you are a writer, is posessing the uncanny ability to be in the middle of math class, wilst wandering moonlilght fields, or be shopping for groceries, while walking down a lonely lane on a stormy day in Ireland.
    So what about the way the branches of the trees outside bristle and shake, but in such a miniscule way one could be forgiven for thinking they were still? Or the way those patches of grass at the roadside turn to tarmac, but you cannot see where one begins and another ends? ...

Welcome Home

Four walls are beautiful 
With white-wash and window gardens
But what's beautiful about 
The moments when hearts harden? 

I don't want to see you like this 
It hurts me to the bone 
You should not it's not about 
Bricks and wood and stone 

It's about you and the places 
Where we are free and safe 
It's about us and the faces 
Familiar not cotton and lace

Do you know there's no safety 
Love and tender care 
In what you call a house of horrors 
Hazy through smoke in the air 

Do you know I am still here 
No matter where we rest on what bones 
Buried beneath the ruins 
Darling, welcome home

To Fetch the Life I Should've Left

Let's go back again 
I know it's a far-fetched fantasy 
By which I live 

But still let's walk to the grave-yard 
For which my soul so boldly yearned 
Where I met you, how I loved you 

By Olympus's gods I should've learned 
Let's go back again 
To fetch the life I should've left

The Beast That Kept Me Safe

Lying in the grass on 
A windy day, in all 
It's precious glory is 
The beast that kept me 

Its ears are drooping like 
Willow leaves in the rain 
Its glassy eyes stare blankly at 
The pasture off the north face 
Of the old house 

So many memories I have 
Of years and weeks and days 
Spent on the little paths that lead 
Each and every way 
Laughing and smiling 
Memories begin to disappear 
Lost forever in 
The beacon of despair 

Lying in the grass on 
A windy day as 
The sun begins to glow 
A fire-fly in the hollow 
Breath of the sky 

The beast that bid 
Farewell to all the monsters who've been 
Sent on their way 
Glassy eyes like olive-pits 
Being things you've never seen 
Seeing things I've never been 
Loving when nobody 
Could care less about the small bodies 
That lie in the grass from time 
To time 
Staring up at 
The sky that's scattered...

Me and Her and Her and I

She's smart 
How does she not see it? 
She sees herself as I see me 
And doesn't see how I see her 
But she should believe 
People care 
She agrees it would be nice 
To leave this wretched place 
Head north to the cold 
Or southwards down to the south pole 
To leave this place 
For little towns 
Where we can be closer 
How does she not see herself 
The way I see her? 
People might not care 
People hate us both 
But who cares 
Not I, I'll say 
Let them think what they will 
For it's no matter what they think 
It's me and her and her and I 
Under a cloudy sky

Tragic Ends

It started small 
Just a little thing 
But over time it grew and grew 
Until now you don't even 
TAlk to me 
It started small 
You called me names 
And now it's grown and grown 
Into crazy mind games
You and I used to be 
Best of friends 
How do such happy stories 
Meet such tragic ends?

We Were Younger Then

We were younger then 
Do you remember all the games 
The books and the river 
Do you remember all the friends 
Who came and went? 
Do you know you were the one? 
The one who stayed 
The one who never left 
We were younger then 
Do you know I loved every minute 
We never argued 
We were like Anne and Diana 
Reading and talking and finding 
We were younger then 
Do you remember how we played 
The same games 
And sat 
On the same bench 
For years now 
But someone took the bench 
Our bench 
They filled it with ideas 
And childlike games 
And after those moments it was never the same 
Do you remember the games we played 
I remember 
When we thought things were simple 
We were younger then 

I Lost You

I lost my best friend 
The one who knew everything about me 
And I about her 
I lost my best friend 
The one I saw every Monday 
The one I'd known for four years 
The one I thought cared 
I lost my best friend 
Who loved the colour blue 
Who played stupid games with me 
I lost you

Everything You Loose

Is punctuated by stars 
Are scattered with stunning rainbows 
And every time I cry 
A tear falls 
And I'm reminded why 
The rain comes down 
Everything you loose 
That hurts you 
Reminds you what you loved 
Believe me darling when I say
I loved you 

Extraordinary in the Ordinary


Her eyes shine, stars aglow with 
Everything she'd never say 
Her smile, rare and beautiful 
Like the shimmering crystals 
Hidden in a rockface
She hides the shining tides of glory 
The willows that billow in the breeze
The winds that buffet everything 
And are never seen 

Every Love Letter

Every love letter she wrote her 
Scrawled in messy ink 
Dropped in the post box of a lover 
It's beautiful, I think 

Her eyes compared to emeralds 
Her cheek to crimson silk 
This glorious 
Forbidden love 
Drenched in desire and guilt 

We are young 
We know no better 
No difference 
'Tween love and evil 
It's harmless 
Just a letter 
With chance of mortal peril 

The post-box seemed so innocent 
To those passers by 
The few who walk this lonely road 
Hidden in love and lies 

Every love letter she wrote her 
As of right now, tonight 
Love desire hate and sadness
This we'll never win 
But fight

Mid-May Grab Bag

Eyes as Grey as Stone

The world in the mirror 
Some object to such ludicrous notions
I say it speaks volumes 
Of love and devotion 

The girl in the mirror smiled 
To herself 
"First love sticks with you"
Some say 
Other's preach of hell 

But the girl's russet hair 
Eyes grey like stone 
And stormy fire temper 
Remind me of my own 

The world in the mirror 
So different from ours 
Her world is secretive and hidden 
Scribbled for hours and hours 

On the pages in the journal 
Left to wither and break
Joyous smiles and laughter 
For her own sake 

So unlike me, in fields 
And forest 
Drawings in the dirt 
Washed away by the torrent 

And I can't help but think 
Her eyes as grey as stone 
And wistful smaller smile 
Remind me of my own 

I found a book of poems 
Her thoughts 
Flowers and spring rain 
Written line by line 
It really is a shame 
Her eyes will never  ...

Food Writing Competition 2021

Farm Breakfast (I'm trying to increase the word-count, so ideas are helpful)

The breakfast arrives at our door, at seven AM, covered neatly with a patterned tea-towel. The bacon smells tantalizing, and it takes all my moral resolve not to eat some. As well as bacon, there is fresh milk in a glass bottle, eggs, and toast. Not to mention the deliciously sour orange juice. Dad says he'll make scrambled eggs, and I can go explore the farm until they're ready. 
    When I get back from my explorations, having discovered two caramel-coloured dairy cows, and a path leading to the far entrance, I can smell toast and eggs and bacon. I'm not the sort who doesn't like food from other cultures--I love trying foods from every culture.  But there's something that makes me feel at home about English-style farm breakfasts. Maybe it's because it's what my ancestors ate, who's to know? 
    The four of us--Mum, Dad and my slightly-but-not-much-older sister Ciara--sit down around the small wooden table in...


It's that time of day when the sun is low enough it could pass for dark, but there is still a faded blue light in the sky, glowing with a tint of violet. Her eyes are the colour of green copper. Our hands brush as I reach out to pat her Nana's husky, which is poking it's head through the gap in the door. She smiles at me and my heart skips a beat. She looks down at me, where I stand on the bottom step. Happiness streams into me, and I can't help but grin. Nothing else matters in this moments, the most amazing girl I've ever met is standing there, smiling at me, before she leaves. It's sort of sad, that she'll never know how I feel, but it's for the best. The lights of the house are welcoming, but I can't go in. I smile and wave goodbye, saying goodbye, before dragging myself away, back down the...

My Food-Tech Teacher is a Misogynist

My hands balled into fists. Angry tears sprung to my eyes, burning with shame and frustration. DON'T CRY I told myself, but there was no point. 

A few minutes earlier... 
"Women are all controlling", "Women all want to be controlling", "Women are controlling". It was something along those lines. At first, I presumed it was some sort of sick joke, and if called out Mr. Sullivan would immediately apologize and take it back, or something. Either way, I certainly didn't expect him to get mad and start telling me off for saying it was sexist.
    Another girl, Maddy, said "that's sexist." I said "that's sexist". Veronica said "that's sexist." Sullivan flatly denied it and brushed us off. 
    "You know," he began, in that angry voice that teenage bullies use. Kind of ridiculous coming from a 60-year-old. "I have three sisters, and I've been divorced twice!" He spat. I can't remember the exact words after that--maybe I...

Talking to “You”

By the Sea

You know you shouldn't touch it. There's literally a sign saying "don't touch". But you so want to. You reach out, your fingers brushing the stained red wood, feeling its grain. 
    The security guard gives you a long, board look over her glasses. You offer her a mischievous grin, tilting your head on the side. She gives back a stony glare. 
    You pull your hand away from the old sail-boat, making a show of retreating like you've been scolded, curling your long fingers back. You loose interest from that exhibit and wander off in the direction of a sign reading "PIRATES THIS WAY, M'HEARTIES". Sure, the sign doesn't make logical sense, because what pirate would say "look at me, I'M A PIRATE,"? They want to plunder your ship. THEY DON'T WANT YOU TO KNOW THEY'RE  THERE. But you would like to know where exactly Percy is. He did say that his parents own the place and...

In the Backroom

In the backroom 
There's a clown with a dagger 
In the backroom 
Someone stole the ringmaster's hat 
And it all goes on behind the scenes 
Cause in the backroom no-one can see 

In the backroom there's a scream 
Drowned out by the strains of reality 
In the backroom there's a hopeless light 
And it fades 
As we stand side-by-side 
And all that's left in the abyss is night 

In the backroom 
No-one can hear their cries 
In the backroom 
There's a million acts 
The ring-master detests and bans 
In the backroom 
There's no sugar-coated life 

Behind the scenes 
Of the circus lights 
Behind the curtains that hide everyone 
In the tent beneath a foreign sky 
In the backroom there's a cry 
All that's left in the apocalyptic world 
All that's left when the ringmaster slows to stop 
All that's left is this lie

I Can't Think of a Title

Ophelia stared at him across the table. Her earnest brown eyes were so pleading, child-like almost. He probably shouldn't have agreed to spill his secrets. 
    "Romeo," Ophelia began, ducking her head so as to look all-the-more like a pleading puppy. "You've got to tell her. You can't very well go about always lying and hiding your feelings. What kind of roll-model will that be to your future children?" 
    Romeo rubbed his temples, averting his eyes. The last summer spent with Juliet and Ophelia had been an... interesting one. He pursed his lips into what might have been a very good impression of one who had squeezed straight lemon juice into one's oral cavity, had that been the intent. He finally looked up from a close examination of the grain of the table. "I think I'm going to run away and join the circus." 

The previous night, at that very table, Juliet had been deep in a...

We Made Something out of Nothing

We made something out of nothing
Red and white lights 
Smoke in the air 
Now we know there is someone 
Waiting in the wings
When the flames flick and the ropes break 
And she falls from a tightrope
There is someone waiting in the wings 
We made something out of nothing 
Red and white lights 
Smoke in the air 

But it disappears like the white rabbit 
Into a magicians hat 
We made something out of nothing 
So when the ashes of this place 
Scatter the cold cobblestones 
At least it's back to what it was before

Outsiders and immigrants 
Shunned to society's borders 
Everyone is different so no-one 
Is different 
And a friend to all is a friend to none 
But some people are friends to some 
And the outsiders and immigrants 
They're lives are none 

We made something out of nothing 
Red and white lights 
Smoke in the air 
And the ones who were shunned 
Kicked to the...

May Grab Bag

Three Cauldrons

Elizabeth Gracious peers our the parshly-open shutters. She sees a girl in the street, cloaked in violet velvet, with three... three whats? She thinks they are cauldrons. The girl is wearing leather boots, concealed in which are a silver dagger and three pence. The girl is me. I hoist one of the cauldrons under my arm, carrying the other two by their rusted handles. I brush a smear of scarlet onto the violet velvet. Bright red liquid sloshes over the edge of the third cauldron, the one under my arm. I hurry, hastily pulling the hem of my skirt straight, so as to hide the knife slashes in it. The street is quite and cold. Glowing orange leaves scatter the dirt. It smells like rain, that's good--there's some things I hope get washed away. I meet Amber at the end of Lovers' Lane, where the country-side meets the town. She's holding a basket, covered in a blue daisy-print cloth. "Are...

Tiny Love

Greek Myths

It was a group discussing Greek Mythology. Most of the myths were disturbing, disgusting, and things you should never share with children. But I was a child once. It was the effort we put into the presentations, it was the arguments we put forward on Greek Mythology, it was the fact that we turned up each week to talk. It was the only thing that was good in the pandemic. The people who don't understand a love of talking wouldn't get it, how much it means to be there, to form words with your mouth. 
I loved Greek Mythology Group. 

Food Writing Competition 2021

Farm Breakfast (I'm trying to increase the word-count, so ideas are helpful)

The breakfast arrives at our door, at seven AM, covered neatly with a patterned tea-towel. The bacon smells tantalizing, and it takes all my moral resolve not to eat some. As well as bacon, there is fresh milk in a glass bottle, eggs, and toast. Not to mention the deliciously sour orange juice. Dad says he'll make scrambled eggs, and I can go explore the farm until they're ready. 
    When I get back from my explorations, having discovered two caramel-coloured dairy cows, and a path leading to the far entrance, I can smell toast and eggs and bacon. I'm not the sort who doesn't like food from other cultures--I love trying foods from every culture.  But there's something that makes me feel at home about English-style farm breakfasts. Maybe it's because it's what my ancestors ate, who's to know? 
    The four of us--Mum, Dad and my slightly-but-not-much-older sister Ciara--sit down around the small wooden table. I...

In Tears on the Tarmac

Marie falls to her knees by the burning car. It's metal has burst into flames, melting and twisting, distorting out of shape. She gasps for breath, breaking down in tears. Marie is the sort who never cries, or tries not to. But now she can't help it. The flames burn on mercilessly. Smoke rise from the ashes where moments ago a girl was sitting. The heat is stifling, and Marie screams into the flames. They stole my best friend! I just want her back! Why... Her voice turns into sobs. She grabs a piece of charred wood that has cooled off in the winter air, and snaps it in two, throwing the remains into the inferno. Guilt stabs at my insides. No one should be put through this much pain, but there's no other way. I take one final look at my best friend, in tears on the tarmac, and turn on my heel and flee. 


Tea-cups that break need more 
Than just resin 
Why don't you see that 
Hearts are the same? 
No matter the lengths you go to 
To break me 
My heart can never be tamed

Can You Fall for Someone Over Zoom

Can you fall for someone over Zoom? Before they blocked the chat, you and I used to talk on Zoom. I liked you when I met you, but I didn't know you. I only really knew you once lockdown started. Can you fall for someone over Zoom? I'm not really sure. It was just words on a screen. But I could see when you smiled, when I made a bad pun. Can you fall for someone over Zoom? You were beautiful and smart, and you replied to my messages. I told you things I'd never told anyone. Why did I tell you that? I would think later. But I couldn't help it. Can you fall for someone over Zoom? I know I thought I had. I told our friend, she laughed on the other end of the phone. Didn't she believe me? Or maybe it was just what she was like. Can you fall for someone over Zoom? We talked...


Do you realize what you've done? 
I know you said sorry, but really is it just 
Empty words again? 
Do you realize what you've done? 
Do you know the cost, all that I've lost 
I don't want to be bossed around 
By you again, because I've learnt 
The hard way, that only time 
Can heal the scars 
And all that's solid floats and drifts 
The only thing left is stars
Do you realize what you did? 
All in joy and love and happiness 
Is burdened by the weight 
Of what you said 
Over and over and over 
And still you won't change 
Do you know that the moments 
Precious and fleeting 
Of first love 
And last love 
Will still be burdened 
By what you said 
Do you know what you've done? 
I can't escape the words you set on 
I can't escape the grasp of 

Just You and Me

We walk along the road, with not another soul in sight 
Autumn leaves blow around, whirled in the wind 
You grab my hand, pulling me closer 
I smile and nudge you sideways 
The breeze is light, and blows your hair into my face 
I spit out a strand of molten gold 
We'll be back at your house soon 
But let's stay like this a little longer 
Just you and me 

After All

I don't know what to think about you 
You're beautiful, you know 
You're the girl with golden hair 
And shining eyes 
But you're also hard to understand 
Will I ever get you? 
The girl with secrets 
Who tells stories about ghosts 
I don't know what to think about you 
You're the girl who likes me 
Am I the girl who likes you? 
I'll never understand you 
The girl who reads so much 
And knows so much 
And gets me 
But do I feel too little? 
You're hands are intertwined with mine 
But it's more like asphyxiation 
Maybe we weren't meant to be 
One heart 
Maybe you're not the right 
One for me 
After all 

Walking on Eggshells

Why am I always the one walking 
On eggshells? 
Like right now 
I should be careful 
What hopes I touch 
Your to fragile 
For me 
Why am I always the one 
Walking on eggshells? 
How come you can say 
And speak 
And wildly misjudge 
Whatever delicate things you desire 
To destroy 
But if I talk too much... 
I touch the wrong dreams... 
I'm a disaster it seems
How come I can't even 
Talk about what makes us human? 
Yet you can ramble dangerously 
About what? 
I don't even believe! 
How come love and hate are equals 
As to how you judge them harshly 
How come you can talk and talk 
About myths 
And I have to agree 
That they're real? 
How come I'm always the one 
Walking on 
How come you're too fragile 
With venom like a snake? 
Why can't I talk a little more 
And blindly agree a little less? 
I shouldn't always be the one 
Walking on...


Leaves in my messy hair 
My scraped knees dangle in the air 
The sky is dimming, a purple grey 
Dreams are all it takes, they say 
Leaves hover green and gold 
It's just a moment, so I'm told 
My cheeks are red and bright 
I brush the leaves in the fading light 
Bark is rough and scrapes my bare skin 
In this moment, my head spins 

So Different from the World

Your birthday party is tomorrow 
High-tea themed 
So very you 
I haven't found a present yet 
I want it to be personal 
But I don't think I can do it in time 
Will you mind? 
I'm so sorry 
How am I going to cope with 
Seeing her again? 
What if we fight? 
What if I ruin it for everyone? 
Remember that day when we sat in the tree
And he suggested we finish that stupid rhyme 
I think it's too late this time 
Remember the first time you admitted it 
And she was grinning 
And I just hid my face 
I hope tomorrow goes well 
We're all young now 
And everything is changing 
Will tomorrow be the day it changes 
For good? 
Will it be the day you finally 
Whisper my name 
And say 
What you feel for me? 
I should find a present 
But I can't move my arms 
I just keep thinking about tomorrow 
What will we become?  ...

The Girl

There's a girl with close cropped hair 
Glowing gold in the half light 
She's holding a book but on the inside 
She's fighting a thousand fights 
The grass molds to her body 
Engulfed in the dreams no-one dared to voice 
Her voice, a bit boyish, a bit soft-spoken 
What if no-one wants to hear it? 
But on the inside, she's bursting with brightness 
The colours of the rainbows and the ones no-one's 
Ever seen before 
Her overalls are the colour of the sky after a storm 
Her eyes are too grey to be blue, too blue to be grey 
Her lips are small, half open, should she say something? 
But on the inside she's singing, with a thousand dreams 
And now she sings something she should have written 
But never really did 
And she couldn't care less if the world 
Wished she didn't exist 
Because she does 

I'm Still Waiting

I'm still waiting 
Lying by the rocks 
On the grey sand 
Under the cloudy sky 
I'm still waiting for someone 
Who understands
What it's like to fly 
I'm still hoping that one day 
In a million moments 
Far away 
I will meet someone who knows 
What it's like in the sky 
I'm still waiting for 
The person 
With whom I want to spend 
The rest of my life 

Just Try

I can't write 
I can't feel 
I should just 
Be still 
In a life 
Where no-one cares 
And no-one wants 
Me around 
I should be quiet 
Like how I was built 
To be 
I should fear the ones 
With power over me 
But I just hope they know 
What I could do 
I just wish I wasn't 
Some weakling 
I wish I could be more 
I shouldn't feel 
I shouldn't cry 
I should scream 
I should just try 
Try to be stronger 
I need to stop this 
Don't cry 
Don't cry 
Don't cry 
Just try 

I'm Sorry

I'm sorry 
For glaring at you 
I'm sorry 
For hating you 
I'm sorry 
For wishing I had friends 
In this place 
I'm sorry 
That you don't like me
I'm sorry 
For being too much 
I'm sorry 
For not being a girly girl 
I'm sorry 
That you hate me 

Downward Spirals

Downward spirals 
I thought they wanted 
To speak to me 
Over and over 
It's just me 
If anyone will ever 
Like me 
Why do they just 
Keep smiling 
And I always 
End up crying 
Downward spirals 
I smiled and said hello 
But it just spirals 
At least I tried 

I'm a Joke

I'm a joke 
No-one likes me 
You know, I can hear the whispers 
Behind my back 
In the girls' bathroom 
You know, 
I can like people too 
But if I do 
They just laugh 
Because how could someone 
Like me 
Ever be liked? 
You know, 
I should just stop feeling 
Because all it ever does 
Is hurt me 
And bring out the worst 
In everyone else 

What it's Like to Be Me

Stop talking to her 
She doesn't want you here 

I glare at the ground
Gripping my wrists close 
Just don't 
Shut up already 
Go back to your corner 

She smiles at me 
But I can see through that 
Mask she's always 
Hiding behind 
You should just go away 
She glares at me 
Because she won't bother to hide 
How she really feels 
Maybe she's write 
I should just leave 

But there's no-where to run 
No arms to run to 
No-where to be alone 
For just a moment 
She's never alone 
Surrounded by all those friends 
And her cute new boyfriend 
How the hell did she 

Get a boyfriend after 
One walk with him 
They go on the bus together 
And the other girl 
Who used to be her best friend 
Sits with me 
And looks so sad 
Now she knows how it is 
To be alone 
You should shut up 
She doesn't want you to talk
Stop telling ghost...

Love Somebody Like Me

Guilt bubbles inside me, 
As I see my face turn scarlet 
In the dusty mirror 
There's no point 
No matter what I do 
No-one will believe us 
It's my fault 
No matter what I do 
I'm the problem 
I shouldn't be so harsh 
But they need to stop it 
But I should just leave them 
My eyes burn like 
The fires that kill 
So many people 
Why won't they believe us? 
I should just leave 
No-one wants me here 
They just want me to like them 
But no-one here could ever 
Love somebody 
Like me 

Beware the Undertow

Beware the undertow 
Drifting away into the waves 
Pulling and struggling 
Say goodbye to your last remaining breath 
So beware the undertow 

Beware the undertow 
Senses flooded in relentless attack 
Try not to breath 
Remember there's no-one else 
Fighting for you 
So beware the undertow 

Think about the people 
And the places 
That you used to call home 
Think about the way the waves 
Wash over you 
Pushing you under 
Beware the undertow 

Do you remember the letters 
You carved into the stone? 
Do you remember the "friends" 
Who left you all alone? 
Do you remember saying this will last forever 
Sometimes forever doesn't last 
But the waves still break on the jagged rocks 
And there's no way you will see them again 
And the crashing white water's not so dangerous 
As the currents with darker minds 
So beware the undertow 

Looks can be deceiving 
Are you sure you're breathing 
Or is this a dying fantasy 
Say goodbye to tomorrow  ...


Who really finds their someday? 
    They always just settle for somehow 
    When they believe 
That this is who they are now 
    I want to find my someday 
        In the lonely moonlight fields 
No-one is here, but you and me 
Not a soul cares 
    Who are we? 
        I will find my someday 
I won't settle until 
    I know how it feels 
        To be entirely in love with someone 
There is a someday waiting out there 
For me 
I'm sure 
    That there is 
        A someday waiting out there 
For you 

Never Here

Why does it have to end 
Like this? 
Tears spilled like storms 
Eyes once bright and wide
With shutters pulled 
Shut out the world 
Why does it have to 
End like this? 
I thought you were mine 
That's how you said 
This would end 
Why can't you stay? 
Or maybe I 
Could disappear 
Without a trace 
As if I was never 


Moments are precious 
They are too fleeting 
And so soon 
They are gone 

When they arrive we 
Have no idea what it means 
And too soon 
They vanish 

Then we twist and turn 
And tumble them in 
Our dreaded minds 
Like sea-glass 
Until we can't believe 
We didn't see them 
For what they were 

Moments vanish 
And linger in 
The voids of our minds 
The whirl-pools 
The luminous gardens 
And fantastical circuses 

And then we wish 
We could have done something 
We could have said something 
We could have kept those moments 

Like ships in bottles 
Tarnished pieces of what might 
Once have been 
Silver jewelry
Just keep that moment 
From slipping like sand 
Into oblivion 
Just for another 
Single moment  

Darling, you

Darling, you're eyes are like 
In the darkness of 
Our world 

Darling, your lips are like 
A rose-bud 
Small, pink 

Darling, your cheeks are like 
The petals of 
A pink rose 
Or a tea-rose 
Or some wild-flower that grows 

Darling, your smile is like 
The rarest gem 
Hidden pirate treasure 
So un-common 
It is beautiful 

Darling, your mind is like 
A poisonous toad-stool 
It is rare 
And under-estimated 

Darling, you are like 
The sun 
The stars 
The sky 
The full-moon 
The siren's song 
Driving sailors to insanity 
Like the world 
And everything in it 
Like a child's dream 
Encased in a single 
You are 


I'm an outsider 
In school 
Maybe in life 

No-one knows the real me 
The dark humor 
The reading way too much 
On this website 
Late at night 

No-one knows about my 
Love life 
Tay thought I had a boyfriend 
How wrong can you be? 
I'm an outsider 

I'm an outsider 
I can see things others don't 
I can see all the flaws 
And foibles 
And failings 
In every little thing 

I'm an outsider 
No-one knows about my dreams 
What I want my life to be 
Who I love 
Who I despise 
No-one notices my lies 

No-one sees the stars I count 
Glowing eyes in the sky 
No-one hears the words I mutter 
When I meet their eyes 

I don't know them 
They don't know me 
I'm an outsider 
That's how it will 
Always be 

Unrequited Love

What's so romantic 
About unrequited love? 
That's always how it is, 
But really, why would you 
Want them not to feel 
Them say way too? 

There's less fear 
And more day-dreaming 
They'll never love you 
So what's there to worry about 

I know how you feel, darling 
I know how it is 
To love someone who could 
Never feel the same 
But what would happen if 
The world was flipped upside-down? 

The thoughts you frequent 
Of love and being loved once more 
Where set in resin, stuck there 
In the minds of another 

What would happen if, for one 
Fateful moment 
Someone glanced at your 
Bright eyes and thought 
I never want to loose sight 
For nothing else could 
Ever be as beautiful? 

What would happen if you felt 
The same? 
Where do we go now? 
It might seem like a given 
That if they feel like flying 
You should feel the same 
But what if in the...

Wandering Mind

Why do I wonder so much? 
And every day my mind wanders 
To where my life is going 

Could I move country? 
Could someone fall for me? 
I don't think that'll happen 
Usually I fall for them 

Is there a future in a town 
Small enough I can walk to my friends 
Big enough I can escape 
From anyone 
And anything 

Will anything I think about 
Come true in the future? 
Will I learn what a great mind is 
In the hills 
By Christchurch city? 

Is there really anyone 
Out there 
Who could love someone like me? 

Fist Bump

The first time you saw me 
You said you loved my hair 
Jumped from your perch on the fence 
And sprinted off 
Then the other day 
When you smiled and waved 
My heart skipped a beat 
Much to my dismay 
Then when you walked up 
To the door of the school 
You simply smiled 
And I turned away 
Then at McDonalds you 
Smiled at me 
Looked me in the eyes 
And muttered something under 
Your breath 
In my ears ring your name 
But you have a life 
You have friends
I'm that weird kid who sits 
By herself 
In every 
Then today at lunch 
You said you wanted to say 
Hi to your friend 
And that was me? 
Your offered a fist-bump 
If only 
In some alternate world 
That fist bump could be 
Intertwined hands 

In Motion

Night Circus

The olive-skinned girl reaches for the silks. She pulls herself up, her fists taught on the blood-red fabric. I reach out as she swings past, but her fingers slip through mine. Her black hair is knotted into two bunches, which bounce and wobble as she spins. The darkness of the aerial practise arena closes in, and it's just me and her. She swings past again. Her long, delicate fingers intertwine with mine, and she pulls me closer to her. I grip the rope, my hands burning from the friction. I pull her closer to me, and we spin, high above the arena floor, in a world all to ourselves. 

I Talk A Lot

I can't explain 
It's impossible 
There's a million thoughts 
In my head 
People say girls talk 
More than guys 
And guys think more 
I only say 1 percent 
Of what I think 
And I talk 
A lot 


Flowing slowly 
But surely 
Seeds flying like 
Wandering souls 
Not lost 
But found 
On quiet, wild ground 
So fragile like 
Wisps that leave 
In seconds 
That last for 
Of the dreaming 
Fly away, wandering 
Seeds of a 

Everything to Me

Are you the one that's meant for me? 
Is this just my mind playing tricks? 
Or is it destiny 
Written a hundred books that 
We will never read 

I know I've waited for a million moments 
Even though they say that when it's time I'll know 
I know there's something here that no-one 
Could ever see 

The thing that no-one sees even though it's right here 
Is that I'll never mind being alone 
But I can't help but wonder 
Are you the one that's meant for me? 
Is this just my mind playing tricks 
Or is it destiny 

The thoughts I don't understand 
Is why do I not mind being alone 
In the country 
Far from the world 
No-one else to see what we're thinking

You're eyes are the brightest green I can see 
But what if they're too bright for me 
Romeo never wondered 
Juliet was right for him 

Is this just my playing tricks 
Or is it destiny  ...

The Autumn Leaves

I wish we could be something 
I know we were meant to be 
Real and all the people 
Who said that we could never be
Were probably right 

I wish we could be something 
Something that stays this way
Like we used to 
I wish you and I were still 
And free 
Like the books 
We used to read 

Oh well 
The time is gone now 
It's too late to say 
Darling, I'm falling head-over-heals 
In the autumn leaves 

You pick me up and say 
Well at least there's around to see
That we could never be 
Brushing off the red leaves 
Crying alone and saying 
I wish we could stay 
Just for a little longer 

Oh well 
The time is gone now 
It's too late to say 
Darling, I'm falling head-over-heals 
In the autumn leaves 

In the greener fields 
To the west of no-where 
By the forest you said was enchanted 
I wish we could go back there  ...

Dead Town

In the wilderness 
By the river that flows 
Through the abandoned town 
Dead houses 
I walk alone 
Not a soul catches sight 
So no-one cares 
About the girl who shouldn't 
Even be here 
Birds chirp warily 
Their existence here is a hardship 
The echoes of destruction 
Still linger 
Like the ghosts of the 
The houses still feel 
Like what they used to be 
They used to be 
Now I'm here 
And the wind whistles 
Into the willows 
Like the old story books 
We used to read 
Now the teddy-bears lie scattered 
Fluff strewn on the ground 
And the grass is greener 
Now there's no-one to stand 
And stomp around 
And I wish I knew what had happened 
All that time ago 
But the town is weathered 
And broken down 
From the longer lonely years 

I Scream

What's wrong? 
Are you okay? 

It's always 
What they say 
I say I'm fine 
They don't believe it 
For a second 
I try to look it 
I cry 
But still I try 
And as the dusk turns to dawn 
No-one will say my name 
In the freezing winter air 
Because I can't help but think 
Maybe no-one cares 
So when they stop asking are you okay? 
I try to suppress 
The blood 
Beating in my veins 
And the fists at my sides 
But I can't 
So I scream 
And suddenly they don't 
Want to know 
If I'm okay 

They'll Burn Your Wings

My heart is beating like a clock 
Steady, but fast-paced 
The candle beside me's wax is 
All but gone 
Just a fraction of what 
It used to be 
The match's spark 
Threatens to burn my hand 
I want so badly for people 
Not to turn 
In disgust 
At the sight of me 
The candle burns steadily 
Lighting up the semi-darkness 
Like the souls that burn 
Or are said to be so 
All thanks to me 
Fly young raven 
With joy in your wings 
Don't be appalled to see 
The hearts that freeze 
For you, my dear 
Are a brutal killer 
They'll burn your wings 
With lighters and gasoline 
And words like the blades 
Of another 
The flames lick higher 
Into the dusty darkness 
Clouds of smoke and ashes rain 
To the floor, and the hearts 
Left ripped out 
Fly young raven, 
With joy in your wings 
Soon you'll see that eggshells 
Were your comfort 
But now their sharp edges  ...

What Did I Do Wrong?

I just want to know 
What I did wrong 
Was I too overbearing? 
Did I joke one too many times?
Was it that I allegedly 
"Can't take a joke"?
Did I want to be politically correct?
Did I say something you didn't like? 
Was I too much like me? 
I just want to know 
What did I do wrong? 

Poets are Liars

Poets are liars 
Or are they dreamers? 
I heard a poem about a love story 
But what love story ends 
With happiness? 
Are the love stories really 
About love? 
Or about ideas 
That they wish were true 
Poets are dreamers 
Dreaming about the time between 
Day and night 
Life and death
Adult and child 
Love and hate 
Poets are strange 
They are different 
They see things in their minds 
They read things in the sky 
And they know 
That maybe no-one really 
Knows them 
Loves them 


I wish I could say something 
I wish I didn't have to fear 
That no-one would hear 
Or believe 
Or care 
I wish my tears weren't 
For no reason 
That I didn't cry and say 
I'm fine
I wish my words crept like fire 
To the hearts of the ignorant 
To tell them 
To burst into 
I wish I didn't have to be told 
You can never do it 
Because everyone believes 
That I can't 
I wish I could cry and shout 
All my feelings 
Like a pulse 
A melody 
A shrieking 
The sound of the wind 
Beating at the gables 
Shaking the shutters 
Trying to shake me up inside 
Trying to make me think 
That I can't 
Do it 
I wish someone would listen 
Someone would believe me 
Someone would care 
Without my having to prove 
That I am worth it 
That you should hear me 
Believe the pulse 
The melody 
The shrieking 
The sound of 


Everything starts to become 
Unimaginably hard 
I can't feel my body 
But for the tears 
Threatening to spill onto my 
Scarlet cheeks 
I shouldn't cry 
I don't know why I'm crying 
They ask me, are you okay? 
I bite my lip hard 
Trying to force myself to 
Not break and give up 
And they ask me why 
Why I'm crying 
And I can't say 
I just can't

How Your Story Could've Gone

There's a million different lives 
That everyone could be living 
Do you wanna hear how your story could've gone? 
I'll tell you everything 

City girl 
She works as an accountant 
Livin' it up in Australia's loudest crowds 
Did you know 
For all the things she may seem 
She's afraid of the dark 

The girl who married young 
Got a house in the suburbs 
Two kids and a dog named Jerry 
Her husband's a banker named Tom 
She is happy and content 
Bur inside she wonders 
Is this what my life is now? 

The girl no-one knows 
Working as a nannie in the country 
Far away from the place 
She used to call home 
Behind her Hazel eyes 
Lie secrets you could never know 

There's a million different lives 
That everyone could be living 
Do you wanna hear how your story could've gone? 

You could live as a pirate 
A feared felon 
She's escaped from the law a million times 


Our Nevermore

When the darkest days are here 
You held me tightly 
Like the frost clings to the green shoots 
When the night's here 
Shadows dancing on the wall 
Remind me of all our ghosts 

When the darkest night's here 
You traced the lines of my tears 
You remind me 
There's something after this 

Now those sweet, painful things 
Are like memories that happened 
Another life-time ago 
Now the frost on the glass 
Makes me think 
Of all the ones I used to know 

When the darkest night's here 
There's no-one there 
To tell me it's alright, darling 
We can through this 

Now those sweet, painful things 
Are like memories 
That happened to somebody else 
In your arms in the moonlight 
Like Romeo's tragic embrace 
And it makes me ask myself 
Is this our nevermore? 

City house 
Far from the fields we used to call ours 
You always said you hate the crowds 
And it's good life, I'd say 
But now nothing...

Nothing to Talk About

The corner store on the street 
We never bothered to read the sign 
Sellin' things under the table 
From milk bottles to wine 

I saw the corner store guy 
Close the shutters and fasten the latch 
I wonder why 
Some things just don't stand 
The test of time 

Some people passed through town last night 
I heard a whisper, someone met a celebrity 
Or somethin' like that 
And the local girls gossiped 
Their slightly too old for school 
To board to work 
Nothin' ever happens round here 

That's the way it's supposed to be 
The corner store on the street 
We never bothered to read the sign 
Sellin' things under the table 
From milk bottles to wine 

Wake up a dawn 
Asleep by 9PM 
Don't know why they bother (bother) 
There's nothing to get up to do 
I'd rather watch the stars go by 
And see the sunrise 
Cause nothin' ever happens round here 

Nothing we can talk about 

I Was Born With Something to Prove

I was born into a world 
Destined to be loathed 
I was born in a galaxy 
I was born to people who loved me 
Some things I know 
I was born into life 
With something to prove 

I was born with something to prove 
From the moment they held me 
To the day as we speak 
I was never going to be the same 
People would think me weak 

The trouble is for women 
You can be as good as men 
You can 
But if for one second you aren't 

We were born with something to prove 
To show everyone out there 
That just because the little girls 
Are as sweet as sugarplums 
We won't stand by 
Twiddling our thumbs 
In the face of a war of words 

I'm not that good at maths 
It's not my strength 
See that's the problem, really 
If you aren't supposed to be good at something 
You have to be...

LGBT+ People and Being Rejected By Society

I think there is a feeling people have, that if you have an opinion opposing someone's beliefs, you have to share it. 
I would say that on some level, it's hard to understand something you haven't experienced. For example, people who say they "just don't agree with LGBT+ people", have not experienced the fact that people have been killed over this before. I don't quite think these people can understand how you're heart feels like it's in your throat when you read this, or how people have cried themselves to sleep before feeling unloved. 
If I had been born 100 years ago, I'd be destined to marry a man who likely didn't love me, and be bullied into submission if I tried to carve out a different life. The only hope I would have would be to join a group of suffragettes (NOT THE RACIST ONES THOUGH). 
But what if that wouldn't happen? I could have slipped some secret people...

Opinion Piece: Selling and Idea

It has become customary in the pink, 11-year-old-blonde-girl-infested, way too glittery hell, that is the over-priced, over-packaged, Kmart, 2-dollar-shop (ect.), culture, to insist everyone should "just be yourself". There's a kind of irony in how monotonous the style range you are permitted to be yourself in is. And why are they always. Smiling. It's so weird, like, what makes the packaging designers think that all female children and teens are constantly smiling like Cheshire cats? If you think a bout it, it's slightly un-nerving. So as a message to all the people who think sexism is done and feminists are just sexist towards men IT'S NOT OVER YET. 
    Now, as the first paragraph kind of skimmed over The Point, I shall make it more obvious now. The Point is this: How come all these business's are using the "be yourself" line, when they literally all offer the same thing? Well, that's one of the points anyway. Well, one...

The Snowflake Conundrum

I have gathered you here today to read this essay, discussing a little thing called The Snowflake Conundrum. 
The origin of snowflake, as far as Google could tell me, is that it's from the 2010's and is used to refer to someone who thinks them-self overly unique, or someone who is too emotionally fragile. 
The thing is, most people are afraid of emotions. Unless you are Miss Honey or someone, who is all sensitive and can cope with emotions, you probably are too. 
But why did people (especially boomers, and post-boomers*) start using the term snowflake anyway? Well, I have a theory. If you are at a funeral, it's generally socially acceptable, and even encouraged to shed a few tears. If you don't, people might look at you like you're holding the smoking gun. As you can conclude, it all depends on what other people are doing. So, in the event that someone who would use the term snowflake (let's...

How LGBT+ Pride is Relevant to The Greatest Showman (feedback appreciated)

WARNING: SPOILERS if you haven't watched The Greatest Showman, don't read this essay. 

Okay, admit it, you're reading it even though you haven't watched it. Well, there are some MAJOR spoilers in this, so don't say I didn't warn you. Like, I almost go over the entire plot in an effort to explain why it's relevant to LGBT+ issues. 

This is your last chance to turn back if you don't want spoilers. 

So, to begin, I'll outline what happened so that we're on the same page here. Yesterday, when I was watching The Greatest Showman with a friend, P.T. Barnum was about to have an affair. My friend said said "what about the kids?". This is the argument a lot of conservatives right-wing Christians use against gay marriage. So when I said something like "That's what they said about gay parents", I would go so far as to say that this is not out of line at all. Then my...

People Would Say that You're Weak

I understand how Anne felt 
Why are boys like that? 
The mock what you say 
The say they can't read your handwriting 
And they ignore you overall  

Why do teachers lie so much? 
They say "you can eat that dessert you spent 
twenty minutes making after lunch" 
And you don't get to 
And they just waste it 
Like they want to waste your life 

You cry 
And everyone asks what's wrong 
But you can't say 
Because they wouldn't understand 
That you're not upset 
Because those boys shouldn't be able 
To reduce you to tears 
That you're angry 
That misogynists get away with it 
That people can just disrespect you like that 
And be told "make sure you include her" 

You wipe at your eyes 
Wishing you could stop the sobs 
Wishing you could control your eyes 
Like you control your mind 
Why do you have to cry? 

Now your eyes are red 
And that boy you're sure is judging...

Please Tell Me

I really want to hear your thoughts 
I know, in my mind, that no-one obsesses 
Over me, the way I can't stop thinking 
But I want to know 
Does she know I feel like that? 
And if someone really does 
Stay up late nights 
Writing me love poems 
Please tell me 

It might seem strange 
The thoughts other people might 
Think about me 
Is it shallow to say 
Please tell me? 

Look. I don't care 
I'm not going to scream at you 
I won't try to hurt you 
I won't even 
Stop being friends with you 
The worst I'll do 
Is not love 

And wouldn't it be 
Better to know? 
So if you love me 
Just say so 

Real Heroes

Do you know 
If I wanted I could get somebody to hold 
Did you know that 
Not all girls want guys with 
Fancy cars 
Goin' to downtown bars 
Some girls want the ones 
Who face a girl and see the stars 
In her eyes 
Cause not everyone believes 
That we can fly 
And I'm so sick of being told 
By some guy I know 
Girls shouldn't wanna be alone 
Not all girls want to see 
The wonders 
Of boyfriends who think 
That they can be 
Or someone from the Odyssey
That is, if you bothered to read 
Do you know 
If I wanted I could get somebody to hold 
Did you know that
I don't need another person 
Judging me 
Just leave me alone 
Don't come back 
I never wanna see another face like yours 
So full of misogynistic jokes 
You like the sound of your voice 
When you say 
That you believe 
Only guys can be 
Real heroes  

Too Long

Breathing heavily 
Inside my mind 
For something that might 
Not be there 
Touch the sky 
Learn about life 
This is who we 
Were born to be 
Do I know you? 
Do you know me? 
Touch the sky 
One last time 
As I dream for a minute 
That feels like an hour 
Every minute 
Too long 

Run Away

Run away 
From the crowds 
From the people 
From being too proud
To reach 
To ask for help 
To admit I was wrong 
Run away from the throng 
Of Melbourne 
To the towns 
And the suburbs 
So far across the sea 
Should I feel guilty? 
For starting anew? 
For leaving my old life? 
In favor of somewhere 
That's half in my dreams 
And half in my memories 
All those years ago 
Run away 
Should I? 
Should I 

Romeo and Juliet

I'm sure there's a million people who love you
I'm sure they could give you the world 
But do you know I dream about the time we spent 
And I know I could give you my words 

It's been twenty years of wishing 
And what do I have to show for it? 
A couple o' promises I made in college 
Lying unbroken 
Not like the beating of my fractured heart 

I know all the Romeos that woo you 
With flowers and jewelry 
Cakes and confectionary gems 
But did they ever tell you 
Your eyes leave them groundless 
Like a sinking ship in the aftermath of a storm 

And I know the prince should win in the end 
Didn't they read Romeo and Juliet 
No-one gets what they wanted 
Except Romeo loved her until the poison 
And the gleaming sword was drawn 

And I'm sure there's a million people who love you 
I'm sure they could give you the world 

Kinda Cool Girl Next Door

I saw you in the frosted window 
They say first sight is love 
But I never realized I love you 
Until the other week in hills 

I saw you in frosted window 
We'd just moved 
You seem kinda cool girl next door 
And I said, hey cringing inwardly 
Why do I have to sound like that? 

I saw you in the frosted window 
They say first sight is love 
But I never realized I love you 
Take me over the hills tonight
We'll dance in hoodies and jeans 
We  talk the night away
Your the only girl for me 

Down by the beach there's peer 
On full moon you can find me there 
I used dream 
About the days we would spend 
I saw you in the frosted window 
They say first sight is love 

You seemed kinda cool girl next door 
I said hey cringing inwardly 
Why do I have to sound like that? 
But you make me feel...

The Food We Miss


I always loved roasts. I think the "always" here, might just be since we went to Granny and Grandpa's and had roasts for a week straight. The potatoes, perfectly toasted and drowned in gravy. The roast chicken, tender and juicy. I used to eat the skin. Ciara would insist upon only eating the breast meat, with a fine sprinkle of gravy. The pumpkin, orange and sweet. It's skin turned to a light caramel-coloured crust, with something (cornflower? I don't know) powdery on the surface. The scent of the roast, which began to tease our nostrils hours before dinner; it smelled like home. Maybe no New Zealand home, maybe Ireland home. The peas were green and fat. I used to split them open and in half. I was always amazed by how they could split like that. I liked how the gravy flowed into the gaps between the peas. It's become a family joke, that we had roasts for a week...

Stars Start to Fall

Stars start to fall 
Broken places where we go 
To get away from here 
Lonely faces in the dusk 
As the sun goes down 
Stars start to fall 

Broken places where we go 
To escape from here 
Crushed dreams and bad habits 
It all comes from here 
We forget we can be more than this 
As the moon's light goes out 
And the stars to fall 

Broken places where we go 
To get out of this place 
To get out of here 
Faces painted with impressions of fear 
As everyone feels like a no-body 
The stars start to fall 

But in the fading light 
As the sun goes down one last time 
In the darkest parks at midnight 
There's still a light for us 
'Cause we will be 
The ones who make 
The stars fall from the sky 

Exploding impressions of light 
As the stars in your eyes glow brighter 
And the crashes of all the smashed fears 
And the...


Spit the words like fire 
No-one will ever love me 
In my face 
Tell me what you really think 
My darling girl, so perfect 
Some people are born that way 
But I was born like this 
Humor that's mostly gory 
Comments about history 
Love for the wrong sort 
From the wrong side of the tracks 
Spit the words like fire 
I know you believe them 
You pray I'll be saved 
You think me a heathen 
You know what I believe in 
And with all your power 
Despise it 
How come you can say what 
You want 
And call me the wrong sort 
From the wrong side of the tracks 
Loving the wrongs ones 
Spit the words like the flames 
That you say 
Will engulf my soul 
If I don't change 
But did you think for one minute 
That this is as much a part of me 
As the moments between 
Life and death 
As the words that tie us together  ...


The lights of a passing car illuminate the walls 
White lines, streaking across cracked cream paint 
My heart beats a steady pulse, like the waves 
Crashing on the rocks 
Sweating palms, restless and fidgeting 
The sky is beginning to lighten, blushed with the first 
Rays of dawn, purple and blue on the horizon 
A little light edges its way around my closed blinds 
Aiming to keep the world out 
Just for a few more hours 
I feel cold and hot at the same time 
The air around my features 
But my warm body is engulfed in blankets 
Feeling the heat rise to my neck I get rid of the 
Top layer of blanket 
Now I'm enveloped in white sheets 
And old duvets 
My hands won't stop fidgeting 
My eyes can't stay closed for long 
I tighten and relax my calves, a vain attempt at some 
Form of relaxation 
My jaw is clenched around all the secrets and lies 

What About the In Between

What about the in between? 
I was a child with everything 
I know I had it all 
Cherry blossoms 
And ivory 
Pride comes before a fall 
Friends in my life 
A river flowing melodiously 
Past, every day 
Without fail 
Until the day we left 
We were children 
With chocolate hair 
And rosy cheeks 
And every time we touched 
The sky 
Dreams, the gems of sleep 
Dreaming of being adults 
Playing mums and dads 
Teddy-bears and porcelain dolls 
The young and the old 
Intertwined to one 
As childhood has a funny way 
Of doing 
But what about the in between 
We had it all 
Palaces from the words we read 
A world of our own 
We were children who had it all 
Pride comes before a fall 
So we dreamed of being parents 
Like the ones who raised us up 
To dream 
To live 
But what about the moments 
Between sleep and waking 
'Tween day and night 
'Tween crying and...

The Ghost of Our Dreams

1, 2, 3, 4, 5 
Now is the time 
I'll apologize 
Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic 
The clock on the wall strikes midnight 
And the sound of your feet 
On grass outside 
Makes me think 
Of the ghosts that I know 
Haunt you 
And I know 
That not all ghosts have died 
And I know 
That the ghost of the times 
When we were younger 
And the sound of the ticking 
Makes you wonder 
Is this my lot? 
So sorry for leaving 
For being like the ghosts 
Of a family 
In death 
And I'm sorry for being 
The one who is never there 
'Cause I know what you're feeling 
I felt it to 
Maybe the ghost of our dreams 
Is you 

I Dream

I dream of the moon 
Flying high through the 
Ultramarine sky 
I dream of the stars I'll never 
And of the world outside 
Of this city 
I dream of the people I'll never 
Unless I leave 
This city 
I dream of the stars 
And the moon 
And the constellations 
Which you and I will touch 
Above the storm-clouds 
And the world  
Alone with our dreams 
In the hills and valleys 
That so many wish for 
And you and I had 
And lost 
In a matter of 

The Girl Next-Door

The girl next-door 
She's weird 
And unusual 
She has short hair 
And blue eyes 
Like fireflies 
But she wants to be 
Somewhere else right now 
And she wants to see 
Different scenery 
And she wants to know 
What it would be like, 
To live the life of 

Just out of Reach

Every scrap of scribbled poetry 
That I've written 
In the last year 
But did anyone happen to 
Read between the lines? 
See what I've been wanting 
This entire time 
And now 
As it's before me 
Like the stars just out of reach 
But I can reach it 
I can feel it 
Just a few more years 
To go 
Do I want it anymore? 

The Perfect Girl Cried

The perfect girl cried her heart out 
I've never seen her cry 
The girl with golden hair 
Bright grey eyes 
Good grades 
Who plays netball 
Like a star 
Who has the nice, 
Handsome boyfriend 
Who never cries 
Who's short and smart 
And has good taste in art 
Who is always smiling 
Who never cries 
But I was told by someone 
That that girl did cry 
When she found out 
That my sister and I 
Were moving away 
To another place 
For an undetermined time 
And she told me
She cried her heart out 

Under the Wide Open Sky

Their skirts lie splayed across the grass 
Hand in hand 
What shape is that cloud? 

As dusk begins to set 
Splashing colours of rust and violet 
Across the wide, open sky 
In the grass, two girls lie 

Some things are preserved in time 
Like glowing amber eyes 
Memories, set like insects 
In something a thousand years old 

But as the girls grow old, so too 
Do the memories of life 
And the memory 
Of forbidden love 

And on death's bead, the girls 
Crippled by arthritis 
And Scarlet Fever 
And so, as the nights seem 
To pile on top of one another 
Into one 

Memories become distant 
Like something from another life 
When they were young 
When we were young 
And you would smile 
Hand in hand 
On the dewy grass 
Under the wide, open sky 

Everything We Leave Unsaid

Everything we leave unsaid 
It's a little too... something 
Everything we leave unsaid 
I can read it on your lips 
In the stars in your eyes 
From the blush on your cheeks 
There's a lot we can never say 
There's a lot I'll probably never say 

I can read it on your lips 
In the sweet smell of red roses 
In the way you hold me like the 
Stars are falling from the sky 
You know all the great poets 
Probably never said 
Half of what they wanted 

Can everyone read what I'm thinking 
Are there no secrets anymore 
Is it in my eyes 
What I'm wishing for 
Do you know I never really left 
The moon and the stars 
And your eyes 

Can everyone read what I'm thinking 
Are there no secrets anymore 
'Cause you have to admit 
There's a lot I'll probably never say 
Is there stuff you'll never say? 

Is it written on my lips 
In my...

I Remember

I remember when we first 
You wore a hoody 

I remember when you 
And I went 
The city 
You wore my hoody 
That day 

I remember how you 
And I 
Used to talk 
And laugh 
Through science 
And Olivia's brother 
Would tell us 
Be more respectful 

I remember you wore 
A blue knitted sweater 
With a dragon 
On it 

I remember I bit my lip 
Averted my eyes 
And probably blushed 
Some people are so clueless 

I remember my birthday 
When we planned a murder novel 
Well, mostly 
We just talked 
About murder 

I remember 
This Thursday 
When we went to see 
Raya and the Last Dragon 
And everything I said 
During the movie 
You laughed 

I remember how we sneaked 
Mars Bars 
Into the cinema 
And looked real guilty 

I remember how 
For years now 
I can't get you out of my head 

Scarlet Lips

Scarlet lips like 
The cherries that hang 
From the gnarled trees 
But they  
Are poisonous 

Copper green eyes like 
The snakes that reside 
On the prairie 
Lying in wait 
And they too 
Are venomous  

Hair like the silk 
Of the black widow spider 

A smile that lights up the world 
Like the bioluminescent glow
Of an electric eel 

A voice like 
The sound of sirens 
And calling 
To their deaths 

Ivory jaw 
Inquisitive brows 
Cheeks like roses 
These thorns of ours 

And a heart like 
Molten gold 
And so, so 

Child of the Stars

The child of the stars 
Silver hair, like mercury 

Your whispers are a lullaby 
For the dammed and the broken 
The song you sing 
Like the sound of the wind 
On a cliffside 

Your lips are scarlet 
Your eyes the colour 
Of green copper 
You are 
The child of the stars 

Cheeks like roses 
Thorny glares 
That melt into the song 
Of the stars 

We could stay here 
Our souls scattered 
Amongst the lonely constellations 
By the swordsmen 
And other things 
My dearest child 
Of the stars 

A tingling shiver 
That runs down my spine 
Like the breeze 
Through eucalyptus 
When I see you 
Resting amongst the stars 

I clasp your hand in mine 
Like Aphrodite's doves 
Forever intertwined 
Through the memories 
Of what was ours 

Your beautiful eyes meet mine 
My dearest, Child of the Stars 
Do you know
I've written you a thousand 
Love poems? 

But each song ends...


The house has a simple kind of beauty. A wooden veranda, a flourishing lawn, and the unkempt suburban wilderness that surrounds it. The chicken enclosure is big enough, and the Angel, Houdini and Silky all get to spend time on the lawn, wandering free. Like Wombles, I think, smiling. 
Down at the end of the lawn, there are stone steps. Mysterious, covered in moss, almost magical. The steps lead to a plum tree, the excess of over-ripe fruit falling with splats to the ground. A plum, partly eaten by insects and birds, and just maybe fairies, falls to the ground as I watch. It rolls slightly in the over-grown grass, the place where it was once connected to the tree facing north. 
The only sounds are the creek and the birdsong, melancholy, as if the birds are mourning. Maybe it's for the tiny nestling that lays in the grass, its unopen eyes bulging through peach eyelids. It really is a...

The Lass from the Farthest North

There once was a lass from the farthest north 
They say she was descended from 
The selkies on the freezing shores 
The lass from the farthest north was a sailor 
Better than any man 

And when that lass decided 
She was headed for an island 
Off the shores of the freezing highlands 
Off the coast of somewhere I've never been 

And on that night the lass did go 
In a boat made of wood and brass 
I'd never seen a sailor so great in my time I know 
She was the lass from the farthest north 
Descended the selkies on the freezing shores 

There once was a lass from the farthest north 
They say she was descended from 
The selkies on the freezing shores 
That lass from the farthest north was a sailor 
Better than any man 

On a night in the winter the lass did go 
In a boat made of wood and brass 
The sea was cold and...

The Last Time I Saw You

There's a light rain now, but we're 
Already soaked from 
Lying in puddles 
And the downpour earlier 

The city trees tower 
Like guardians 
Of some dystopian 

Now it's time to leave 
But I don't want to 
Let you go 
This time 
Maybe for the last 

Your skin feels like silk 
As we hug goodbye 
Like old friends 
Or a new planet 
Formed from 

You smell like 
Floral deodorant and shampoo 
And a little bit of hope 
That we'll make it out 
This time 

Then you slip away 
Into the glowing darkness 
Of the world 
Far bellow the stars we reached for 

That was the last 
Time I saw you 

Furniture Wax

The scent of black furniture wax is intoxicating 
A dab of the stuff gets on the palm of my hand as I rub it vigorously 
I probably shouldn't polish my school-shoes with furniture wax 
Oh well 
I hum King of New York as I work 
It occurs to me that in the days of the Newsies, these shoes 
Would be something amazing 
A beam of Ivory light filters through the single window that has the blinds open 
The scent of wax makes it hard to think 
It smells strangely similar to oil paint, I notice 
I dab some more wax onto the rag that used to be white 
One side is now covered in black wax, and looks, I imagine 
Like what mechanics' rags look like 
A pair o' new shoes with matching laces 
I murmur the song 
I rub the rag into the leather grooves 
Trying to get rid of the wax residue on it 
I feel strangely like...

To the West of Nowhere

I live in a cave, to the west of no-where 
I live under the stars, in a moonlit field 
I am the song that sailors sing 
As they harpoon the fish, and hear the sirens 
I am the sound of the merry creek 
As she twists and turns over mountain and woodland 
I am the chilling howl of a wolf 
Where no-one can hear you scream 
I'm in the ink that swirls across the pages 
Like a spider's dying words 
I'm in the wildflower that blooms in the cracks 
Trodden on but still standing 
I see the lass, and her lover, as they remain fused
I am something you will never understand, I am the muse 

Under the Moonlight

And so they danced under the moonlight, on the veranda, where there was no-one else to judge, and The dark-haired girl smiled, her eyes like indigo orbs, and the blonde girl with rosy cheeks and a glowing smile wondered how she had come to be so lucky. 

How in the World Did I Come to Be?

You belong with me 
It's the recipe for romance, allegedly 
Two people 
One fair, one tall and handsome 
A perfect princess 
A charming hero 
It's the recipe for romance, allegedly 
The belong together 
He says you belong with me 
They kiss, under a moonlight veranda 
On a tall cliff-face 
In the street 
And they live happily 
Ever after 
No doubt 
No second thoughts 
No star-crossed lovers 
No-one who doesn't fit the mold 
Cue credits 
Is that how it works? 
No waiting 
No hoping with all your heart 
For something that can 
No vexingly tragic stories 
Not a single person 
Who reaches for the stars 
Without help 
Is that how it works? 
I wonder how in the world 
I came to be 
Oscar Wilde new better 

Never The Dark

I have a question, if I may 
For my dearest Leia Capulet 
Or am I Capulet, and you Montague? 
The question is this, my dear 
Lovers talk about everything 
In darkness and in light 
How do we only ever seem 
To be happy as can be? 
I feel like there's secrets 
Buried inside of me 
That of all the people who understand 
One isn't thee 
Is this unrequited 
Or impossible 
If you loved a soul 
Who would it be? 
Romeo and Juliet shared something more 
With darkness and light, love and gore 
So where do we fit in? 
With our child-like ambiguity 
Why do I feel the gravity 
Without understanding reality? 
If I'm your Romeo 
Or Juliet 
Why don't you see it? 
I can't understand how you always smile 
Like a phantom or cherub 
I don't understand 
If I walked five hundred miles 
I'd be tired 
But you are only ever the warmth 
The glow 
The light 
The stars 

The Slings and Arrows in My Head

Around her I forget about the ones 
Who make me feel like I'm drowning 
By the sweet smell of death 
Around her, everything is a happy thought 
Even the grim itself 
Around her nothing is untouchable 
If you dream enough 
You'll see the stars 
From above 
Around her I don't hear a string 
Of words which felt like 
Slings and arrows 
In my head 
Around her each thing she says 
Is a ray of perfect light 
So fleeting 
And beautiful 
But soon it turns to night 
When she's gone 
The world's gone crazy 
And the lights are flashing rapidly 
And once more the smell of death descends 
Like a grey cloud 
Over a silver ray of the moon 
And the petals of a rose 
Whither and fall 
Delicately to the floor 

So Many Thoughts

So many thoughts in the minds of our enemies 
That you could never know 
I hate the people who make me feel 
Like my time is worth nothing 
So many lessons that could be taught 
If only you were strong enough to hear 
The words of others 
The other kinds 

They too have lovers 
And minds 

Some Things Never Change

We were watching The Amazing Race
My sister waved the remote around 
Suddenly the screen went black 
Sorry, I was playing with the remote 
She says 
Some things never change 
It's best that way 


The shattered platter 
That Anne had to replace 
Was the birth of a poem 
Beautiful as wildflowers and lace 
Teacups with cracks 
Are all the more precious 
Like the sound of tinkling, breaking glass 
People are hurt 
By the sound of no-one 
There to pick up the ones 
Who were left behind 
So understandable, they're timid 
They hide 
For all the great artists  
Were broken inside 


They are put in an unduly bad light, I think 
There's something almost...
The idea that some things 
Are just too shocking 
Or too dark 
Or too beautiful 
To share with the world 
And I know that through the scribbled ink 
Slips the things I don't have the guts to say 
And sometimes 
Without realizing it 
I in myself become a secret 
To multifaceted to show the world 
With too much depth and backstory 
Sometimes to hurtful 
Or to unacceptable 
But in its darkest hour, the secrets are only 
The things we can't bare to share 
For fear we would lose all that is precious 
And life would be meaningless 
And some people say 
Everyone has secrets 
And they do 
I know I do 
But half of them are so strange 
Out of the ordinary 
That we don't even share them with ourselves 
Like the thorns of blood-red roses 
They may make the beautiful terrifying  ...

-Your friend, Issy

This is a letter to you (yes, YOU), 
I'd like to start with an apology. The world is a hard place. I'm sorry that you have experienced racism, homophobia, bullying, or something else I didn't mention. Oh! Also, I'm sorry that you have experienced sexism, and most likely, you have. 
Next I'll give you a promise, that if there is something I can do to stop this kind of thing, I will do it. 
I'd also like to remind you that your struggle is real, and I hope my words can help. 
Lastly, remember, there is so much going on in everyone's heads, that you know nothing about. So just try to be kind and understanding, but don't take nonsense from anyone. 
Remember, you are loved. 
-Your friend, Issy

Glowing Violin

I toss my hair out of my eyes. That princess thinks the world is perfect, she's going to pay for that. It all began last year, when the darkness descended on Heming worth Castle. Juliet and her two little friends (who I am like, 90 percent sure are dragons, but they don't look like any dragons I've ever seen), decided that I was to blame for the flame of light that resides in the depths of the castle going out. I was, of course, but that's another story. 
    I aim my bow at the open window of the west most castle tower. The arrow poised in place, waiting for Juliet to appear in the window. But she doesn't. 
    That princess seems determined to destroy my plans for the western side of desallekville, even when she has no clue what I'm doing. I'm going to need backup. I put two fingers to my lips, letting out a...

Am I Lying?

Do you ever write something and ask 
Am I lying? 
Do you ever feel like the things 
That you said you overcame 
Were just ideas that came over you 
In the spur of the moment 
Do you ever wonder 
Why do I say I have it hard? 
When you have a loving life, a loving family 
Your world has no bloody glass shards 
Do you ever reach for the sky 
And fall, only to realize 
The sky is already at your feet? 
Have you ever felt the wind, but known 
I can go home any time the wind has blown 
Do you ever tell yourself 
This isn't enough 
The world is full of haters 
One is not a tragedy 
Have you ever wished that you had 
Something more to tell 
Or something more to feel 
Before you're carried away by the swells? 
I know I've been told 
That my life is wrong 
I know I've been hurt 
By those I...

You and I (a collection of short poems under one title)

I wish you saw yourself 
Through the eyes of someone else 
How many thought out words 
Flowing like freezing water 
Does it take 
To make you see that you're perfect? 

Enjoy the view because 
It might be the last you and I see
If you feel feelings that don't change 
Like those of the world's greatest poets 
Please talk to me 
I want to see 
Your soul 
Or we'll drift apart like 
Broken driftwood 

I know what you're feeling 
I see it in your eyes 
The questioning 
The realization 
All you know is lies 
And the thoughts that 
As you see the shadows on the wall
Move a little closer to the blanket 
And there's no-one to help 
You're so much like me 
When I was younger 

You're thinking things I'll never understand 
I understand that you don't want to let go 
Only ten and one years 
That make up a life  ...

Tic Tic Tic

Life is a melody 
That's sung in birdsong 

Confusing thoughts 
Storm my mind 
What if I never find 
The right person 
To make me happy? 

I wish we could still dance 
Like that 
If only all hell hadn't 
Broken loose 
On our broken minds 


Arthritis crippled fingers 
Running over the smooth locket 
I remember when we were young 
Before the war 
Before the plague 
Before you found me 
And now I hope 
That I will find you 

Find Me

I still await the day 
When someone, someone special 
Sees something more than 
The surface of a frothing stream 
And when they see it 
They will find me 

Scarlet Blood

Dear Earnest Hemingway, 
After all the scarlet blood that was spilled 
And the people who stabbed me in the back 
When I wasn't looking 
And left the dagger right there 
Disguised as a gift 
After every flower that withered 
Like the dreams of my young heart 
After the people who said that they 
Wouldn't abandon me 
In storms 
And desserts 
And tidal waves 
Left me 
For something that doesn't exist 
I don't know how to write the real 
Truest sentence 

Screaming to the Seas

Somebody listened 
No-one really cared 

Now I'm 
Screaming to the seas 
To listen to me 
Just tell me you believe 
In destiny 

But you 
Would rather be divisively planning 
Your next attack 
On any one of my dreams 

So listen or you 
Will never hear half of the truth 
'Cause every story has another side 

But I'm 
Screaming to the seas 
Carried away with the wind 
And you'll hear 
Where this story begins 
'Cause you'd rather be divisively planning 
Your next attack 
On any one of my dreams 

Every story has another side 
Didn't your mother tell you 
The best of us 
Have the worst ideas
Of peace 

Maybe when the war comes 
And the arrows fly 
And you see the vengeful 
Look in my eyes 
You'll believe this was the fault of mine 
And no-one will tell your 

But maybe when I cry 
Out to the gods to help 
Some other one 
But you'll never get there 

Just For Today

Just this once 
Can we not care? 
I wish we could walk hand in hand 
Along the beach 
And just be 
Be us 
Be free
Be without stereotypes 
Holding everyone back 
But that's not how it's going 
To be 
I'll grow old, as a girl 
The weird one 
You'll leave me to be 
And be told 
You cannot be you 
Because men must be men 
And women must be women 
I'll be an architect, maybe 
Or a poet 
Or an actor 
Or an artist 
Or an author 
Constantly criticized 
With no hope in my eyes 
You'll learn to take their ridiculous 
You'll be put into a box 
That society makes 
And I 
Won't be able to 
Do anything 
About it 
But just for tonight, darling 
Let's fly 
And scream to the wind where 
There's no-one to hear us 
And no-one will care 
I'll tell you about my life 
You'll share yours 
I just realized, my dear 
I don't...

When the Lights Go Out

When the lights go out 
People say the world is a lonely place 
Full of broken hope 
And shattered dreams 
There's no chance for us it seems 

But when the lights go out 
The last candle's glow flickers and dies 
Like the spirit of a thousand people 
There's a second chance in the darkness 
As the stars flicker and fall 
From the sky 

When the darkest night is ny 
And the people pray 
Let us make it out 
With our sanity and light 
When the lights go out 

Every dreams seems to be 
A little closer to reality 
And it seems to me 
The only hope of living for another day 
Is let the lights go out 

When the lights go out 
Go out 
Go out 
When the lights go out 
Every dream seems to be 
A little closer to reality 
Every wistful fantasy 
Is only as far away as it seems 

When the lights go out (go out)

Poetry and Spoken Word Competition: 2021

Innocence (review for review)

Far gone, into a the distilled 
History of this mortal coil 
A child was born 

Eyes like cornflowers 
Framed by darkbrown lashes 
Of no cruel world 
Any child did know 

Her parents 
In the little suburban house 
That they called home 
To them 
She was everything 

So many now-adays do banish 
Thoughts of the world from their minds 
Could she grow up in a better world? 
I guess we'll never know 
To them, 
She was nothing 

Now days turn into longing years 
Yearning to know of wonder 
But she'd seen it before, my dear 
In the river 
Flowing through beds of willows 
In every wildflower and weed 
In the way the snow fell, crisply white 
She knew wonder indeed 

If only now, as the sun rises 
Who knows how many more times 
People thought before the ignored 
The precious children of this time 
Do they know that there's a price 
To spreading hate and lies 
True happiness is innocence  ...

Butterfly Blood

A butterfly flies past the grey stones. Out of no-where, an arrow shoots towards it, plucking the delicate creature from the air. A single drop of yellow blood drops onto the ground where the corpse lies. 
    Black clouds gather in the sky, suggesting the impending threat of a storm. On the horizon a fork of incandescent light flashes, followed by grumbling echoing thunder. 
    The first drops of rain hit the castle, bulbous and transparent. Then comes the torrent. Birds and insects take shelter from the first rain of the season, under the leaves and branches of the pine forest surrounding the castle. 
    I make a run for the stables, where Honey and Bumblebee are tossing their heads in dismay, their whinnies drowned out by the storm. 

Candle Wax

She twirls a lock of short auburn hair around her index finger. Her eyes flit around the cluttered room, to the candle on the cabinet, and the drips of garnet wax splattered on the painted wood; to the violin sitting on top of one of the bookshelves; to the coral-pink framed mirror, with its intricate flower designs; and finally, to the tall stranger standing in the corner. 

To Sleep

Is it being a philosopher? 
Or maybe it's the feeling 
That I can never be equal 
Is it the love songs swirling around my head? 
Or maybe it's that no-one will 
Write them 
Is it the hatred bubbling inside me for some? 
Or is it the image of her rosy cheeks and bright eyes 
Seared into my retinas 
Is it that I might never really know 
What it means 
To be in love? 
I think so 
Maybe soon 
To sleep I will sucumb 

I Miss Those Days

Remember how we  used to live the life of   Anne of Green Gables? We used to talk, and pick daisies.
I remember you used  to have two cats,   one ginger tabby and the other a longhaired something-er-other--Tinka and Bell.
And then for your  birthday--was it twelfth  or eleventh?--you got axi the axolotl.
Remember how we   did sparkler on the beach  before your fifteenth birthday? I loved that beach. And the next day, we went to the Mosaic Gardens.   We watched Charmed   for the first time that night. 
I miss those days. 

The Haunting of Belvedere

Polished mahogany banisters, slick like '80s hair 
Around the staircase, down the halls 
Soon she will disappear 
The balcony reminds me of Romeo and Juliet 
With marble and carved railings 
A dead woman was found here, a tragic accident 
After all, she was elderly; her heart was duly failing 
Her bottle of age-old whiskey was left on the stair 
Her eyes like golden orbs, staring at nothing 
Now a young woman resides here, she too will disappear 
Nights are too quiet, the only sound is the creaks 
Groaning planks of wood, a house as old as time 
Alone in the corridor, some say she haunts the first floor 
Dissipate the angry spirits, with burnt Rosemary and Thyme 
They say there was no autopsy, though two were found here 
A harrowing tale it is, the haunting of Belvedere 

Experimental Visual Poetry (read footnotes)

                                wonder what 
                        would                     happen 
                        if                                m 
                      you    and I                     e
                                n  my 
                                        rling I have wondered 
            why did we 
            would             w 
                we         o 
                    be n

One Two Three Four

One two three four 
One two three four 
Twirl her around until 
The two of you are dizzy 
One two three four 
One two three four 
Darling dance a little longer 
Twirl and dance the 
Night away 
One step forward 
One step back 
It's the showing of secrets 
And the hiding of feelings 
In plain sight 

I Wish For Stars

Your dark grey eyes 
A million thoughts conceal 
I wonder what goes through 
Your head 

Why can't you see it? 
You can't be apart for 
Even a minute 
You are blinded 
By Eros 
And Aphrodite 

Don't tell me 
What I can do 
I know you don't know me 
So touch only 
The stars that belong 
To you 

I'll admit I wish for stars 
To fall from the heavens 
For just a minute 
To see 
What love is 


Sunlight like liquid honey 
From shutters onto lilac sheets 
Stay here 
In galaxies of dreams 
Before the day's begun to 
Feel the beating sun 
On rooves and 
The cobblestones 
Days turn into weeks 
Turn into years 
Turn into lifetimes in your 
Glinting eyes

Just Keep Running

My feet thump on the freshly mowed grass 
Bubump, bubump, bubump 
Along with my heartbeat 
The sun is getting low in the sky 
Its molten gold rays 
Touching down on the green 
The air is cold but my skin 
Tingles warm 
From the blood beating 
Crimson in my veins 
From my parents 
And theirs
And theirs 
My breathing is fast and hard 
Just keep running 

We Will Fly

I've never met another girl like you 
I wonder how in the world 
So many people tell us what we can do 
I wonder why we're supposed to listen 
If we don't we can fly 

I've never met another girl like you 
Red hair bright eyes 
Imaginary friends in echoes 
So many people tell us what we can do 
I wonder why we're supposed to listen 
If you don't listen 
You will fly 

A million little things 
That make up a world where we 
Will never fit in 
Writing songs for people I've never met 
So many people tell us what we can do 
If we just don't listen we'll fly 

Page upon page of empty writing 
Wishing for something you'll never see 
Poems on scraps wrapping papers 
From Green Gables to Avonlea 
We were meant to be 

Ghosts of our past returned to haunt 
Every waking moment 
The problem I see is I can't forget 
The beating hearts...


Cheeks go red as 
A pale face framed with dark hair 
Tears make her blue eyes glisten 
Secrets make her 
Heart hurt

The Art of Specificity

Green Eyes

She looked at me, then looked away. 

Her green eyes sparkled with tears as she and I locked eyes. Then before I could say something, she turned away, holding back sobs. 

Her green green eyes sparkled with suppressed tears as she and I locked eyes. There was some sort of mutual understanding; this would be goodbye. She turned away, so I couldn't see her pale face as she held back sobs.


We hide behind words like Diamonds 
Too beautiful to object to 
Too hard to break
No-one will ever know these people 
Whom we call writers 
What's behind the masquerade mask? 
Why do we hide? 
Every word is planned out 
To shield what's inside 

No-one can find the key to 
Our fractured worn-out minds 
Or when they do 
Acquire the truth 
No-one will be fine 

We hide behind words like diamonds 
Too beautiful to object to 
Too hard to break 
Gods forbid anyone sees 
What's behind the closed doors 
Hidden with lock and 

We fumble through the world in the dark 
Trying to make a path 
But every time someone tells us 
To stop 
We have to start 
So why don't writers tell the whole truth? 
We only say it in parts 
For no-one can know the darkest secrets 
Hidden in plain dark

I Wish

I wish I knew you 
Rather than a mirage 
You always smile 
No matter the time 
It makes me  tired 
Be honest 
Just this one time 

Dreams of Green Gables

Tell me, will you ever die? 
I know you were born from a dream 
And thinking made you so 
How queer it does seem 
That you will never go

Ginger hair, they called it carrots 
Eyes like twinkling stars 
You'll stay in mind and dreams 
I'll admire from afar 

Just one, a good one 
You told her your poetry 
Different but the same you were 
I'd love to know how 
You're still good friends now 

I never knew where your life was 
To me it was a dream 
Somewhere with honeysuckle 
And autumn trees 
You were the other side of the ocean 
And yet you felt so close 
How did you do it, Anne? 
I guess I'll never know 

The Last Song I'll Ever Write

Turn around 
See me standing by the trees 
I'll write you a love song
It aint no superhuman feat 

But I know this won't 
Be the last song I write 
Above the clouds there's a place 
With palaces and paradise 

But soon the melody is over 
And the frost sets in 
Somewhere over the mountains 
There's a place 
I'll meet you there before the sun is high 
In the sky 

They'll never know that you 
And I will be 
A world away 

I'll write you a love song 
But I know this won't 
Be the last song that I write 
Cause there's no-one waiting for us 
On the other side 

Maybe some day you and I 
Will be alone with the wind 
And the call of the sea 
And I'll write you a love song then 
And as the cliffside is steep 
Don't loose your footing 
Now it doesn't matter to anybody 
If we're dead or alive 

Some day...

Feel (another collection of short poems)

My heart flames with anger 
Something I can't control 
Deeper than just me, it's a world 
I wish you saw me, whole 

Angry and hurt 
Why must I cry, if only to live 
A wasted life with nothing 
To show for what you did 

Love isn't easy 
When your own heart betrays 
The way that you should be made 
Just tell me it's okay 

I'm ashamed of you 
Why did I know you 
And still not see 
What you've done 
To others 
And me? 

This may be the end 
Where I see you last 
You sit with an air of 
Why should I care? 

Inky Words (a collection of short poems)

When I said it 
Your cheeks blushed red 
When he came back 
You pushed him away 

Screaming to the sea again
That's where I always end up 
If only people 
Just listened 

Stifled giggles 
Stolen hugs 
I know it when I see it 
I've seen love 

Lying in wait 
For a day that'll never come 
He is rather sweet 

Competition is tough 
Some day I'll realize 
You don't have to always win 
Just because they expect you not to 

Inky words 
In a discarded diary 
How it hurts to be 
Dismissed without a thought

A Softer Side

There's a softer side 
Believe me, it's there 
If you look you will find 
That everyone has a softer side 
Rosy cheeks from running 
In the springtime air 
Laughing as they brush past 
The softer side is there 
Under the beanie and hoody 
Beneath the knitted brows 
Something is hiding 
The love they feel is hidden 
Like a precious gem 
Or a treasure 
They can't help but smile 
Despite their tough-guy personas 
Some people hide it 
Some people deny it 
Some people are brave but 
Can't face the daunting
That they 
Love someone 

Mini-Poetry part three

Will anyone ever 

        A love 

The Seasons

Time is stopped in the walls of what we know 
Echoes and heartbeats 
Will it ever be something more? 
I'll never know 
Hold my hand through lonely nights 
Wither wander us to where we'll never know 
It's the echo 
Of a thousand shattered dreams 

Autumn leaves remind me of your hair 
Guess I should've told you sooner 
I love you (ooh-ooh) 
The weather is colder now 
I know you'd have something to say about 
The squirrels in the trees 
If only that could be you and me 

Time is stopped in the walls of what we know 
Echoes and heartbeats 
The storm is getting wilder 
This time 
Will me make it out alive? 
On the brink of another year 
In the midst of our minds 
This could never be you and I my dear 
It's foolish just to try 

I know you'll never see me in the same light 
But I should've told you when we were younger  ...

Emotions (read footnotes)

Of all the things I've learnt, one is clear 
Feelings are for the weak 
You cannot show emotion, or they'll sense it 
The world is harsh, cold and relentless
If only we didn't love 
And hurt ourselves in the process
I know you'd only laugh or jeer 
Why do we have to feel? 
I wish people were a little kinder 
Or a little slower to judge 
You trap out your own feelings 
And then call others weak 
Don't show emotion 
They can sense it in the air 
Don't let them know you're struggling 
It'll only hasten the kill 
Why do you have to shut out your emotions 
And make it all the worse still? 

Waves and Ocean Air

Is it not really a feeling 
More a deep imbedded thought 
That if only it was like it is for you 
If only I could say something 
And you would believe it true 
If only I didn't have to scream to the wind 
And hear only an echo 
With no real audience 
If only I didn't have to shout over the crashing waves
On the cliffs 
And be beautiful 
And graceful 
Rather than holler and still not be heard 
Why do you expect me to be 
The girl with golden tresses 
Not the one who screams to the sea? 
Why is it so different? 
How is that fair? 
My shouts are drowned out 
By waves and ocean air  

Maybe That's What Love Is

Being torn apart from inside 
Like one mind 
Two hearts 
Wanting different things 
Lying in wait 
For when someone wants it too 
Without really meaning it 
Wanting them to believe it 
Wishing that someone 
Could just listen 
And agree 
Like she did 
Maybe that's what love is 

Is it a Lie?

Love is supposed to feel like joy 
Is it a lie? 
I hope not 
But is it supposed to be anger
And ruin? 
For every heart someone takes 
Someone breaks 
Without even knowing 
Is it a lie? 
I guess we'll never know 

The Tender Embrace

Is that what you think love is? 
Powerfully passionate 
Ridiculously inappropriate
Eyes whirling 
Is that it? 
Haven't you heard of hands held tight? 
Even on a cold morning 
Or a dark night 
Haven't you heard that love's about thoughts? 
And the thoughts 
That tangle 
Into a web of wonder 
At how a person can be that marvelous?
If that's what you hate about me 
About love and attachment 
Till death do us part 
Morbid and sorrowful 
Not all love has scandals 
Rumor and shame 
Is that why you object?
A physical thing? 
It's the tender embrace 
When the war is over 
It's something you would never understand 
Despite all that you preach 

Funhouse Mirrors

You see yourself 
The river's like a mirror 
But what warps us makes us whole 
And in the funhouse you can see 
What's never been liked 
What isn't even 
What makes us cry 
In agony 

Fear the Night

Filtered rays of sunlight are a merry distraction 
Stars are too bright, they make us blind 
But as the stars are far away 
To weak we are to fight
It's not what we do see
It what we don't 
That makes us so fear the night

I Know I Want to Know You

Every letter I wrote you 
Lies torn up on the ground 
Every time I think of you 
I feel you all around 
Through the wild-flowers in gutters
And the leaves descending 
Falling from the trees 
For year after year 
Is this how it will be? 
Is it love? 
Or do I not know what love is? 
Do I want to know? 
I know I want to know 
Every letter I wrote you 
Is a little too familiar 
Like the scent that lingers 
On the clothes 
Of those deceased before 
They've really gone 
And when I'm around him 
And he thinks I don't know what loves is 
I wish he'd met you 
For year after longer year 
Is this how it will be? 
Staring into green eyes
Like drops of forest ink 
Dreaming of lovers
If only 
That was us 
If only you read the letters I never sent you 
If only I sent the letters you never read

Rosemary and Thyme

The plague doctor's cane 
Rosemary and thyme 
One more sickly day 
Running out of time

Daisy Chains

Daisy chains 
On your wall 
Is it fair to say 
Of all the hidden places 
I didn't wanna let this one go 

Some day you and I will be
Long gone in a world where we
Never meant more than this 
Never really let go 

Down by the creek 
You jumped 
Just a little further 
Away from the world where we 
Never really belonged 

Some say ghosts are just memories 
You stay 
Now I'm the one who leaves 
The world where we 
Were meant to be alone 

Daisy chains 
On your wall 
Dead and buried in the garden 
There's a heart beating slow 
Dried up petals 
Hung up like a trophy 
Of what we'll never know 

Bird song 
It's a little too loud 
It drowns out 
The sound of the screams 

Daisy chains 
On your wall 
Of all the hidden places 
This one is the one 
I never really let go 


The piece of paper by my bedroom door isn't unexpected, per se. But it jolts a little thrill inside me all the same. It's the second of its kind, and the last one was dreadfully romantic. 
    Outside the wooden walls of the backrooms of the "The Crab and Crustacean", the sea beats against the cliffside, creating a thunderous song. It reminds me of the legends of the song of the sea, of how the sirens lure sailors to watery demises. 
    I bend down and reach for the folded piece of yellowed parchment. On the outside there's an ink drawing. It's a picture of a black-haired girl lying on a rock, the waves crashing around her and her hair swirling in the freezing air. Strangely, she looks quite a lot like me. 
    On the inside, the parchment has a short message. 

            Diana, outaste eyanovn iorloeo lmeirhc vohslea 

I smiled and tucked the parchment...

There's A Place

There's a place 
In my tarnished mind 
Where the sky and the grass meet 
And I know I saw you there 
A year ago 
When I knew not the price of love 
There's a place 
In my broken mind 
Where you and I could lye and wait 
With no-one to hurt us 
There's a place 
In my swirling mind 
Meet me there 
At dusk 

Never Again

Never again 
Life is a wild ocean 

Soft as pansy petals 
Just this once 

Never again 
Will I hear your name 
Or say it 

I could swear you were here 
In the meadow 

On the hill 
Will no-one around 

But the chirping birds 
And the ghost 
Of us 

Quote Of Today

You agree with me?
Damn. I could have sworn I meant to be controversial. 

I Don't Owe Thee

Why do I owe thee so? 
I know I never knew someone 
So in desperate need 
Of tearing down 
Those around 
To build thee up with bricks 
And mortar 
Made of other people's blood 
I don't owe you a penny of time 
Six pence is too much to leave 
I know you talk and you talk 
Thee assumes thou'st right 
And right is only as right as you can believe 
I shall never owe thee 
There's blood in water 
Red as rust 
Thee will never know the blood 
That others bleed silently 
I don't know where you started 
Believing lies of the wicked 
And the cursed 
Don't beat the dammed 
We'll only strike back 

The God of Death

When I first saw you I wondered how 
How you didn't remember? 
Don't you? 
And I saw how you had changed 
Maybe I should see that I have too 
You're brows were dark and chiseled  
Your features were like a Greek god 
The god of death 
For every little moment is fleeting 
And soon 
You won't remember me 
Will I remember you? 
I wondered why you were so charming 
Without uttering a quiet word 
Maybe it was your smile 
Maybe it was your eyes 
Maybe it was my wish for someone to see 
And to know beyond eyes 
But you smiled when my father 
Told his funny ridiculous stories 
Because you were here 
When the rest's minds wandered like dairy-cows 
And I stared a little too long 
And you looked back at me with... 
Not pity 
How was I so like the winds that fill the sails 
Of ships 
So quick to change 
So easily merry 
So unlike...


She's beautiful 
More beautiful than all 
Summer mornings 
Lovers' hands intertwined 
Incandescent dreams
Naïve children 
Her brows knit on frosty mornings 
How cold it is 
How I wish I knew you better 
When time has slowed 
And warped like 
Salvador Dali's clocks 
And it's just you and I
And the birdsong 
You're beautiful 
Like the willows
And flowing rivers 
And every sonnet Shakespeare ever wrote 
I wish you saw how fast my heart
Beats, and skips a beat
If this were a fairy-tale 
I'd be a sorry beast 
Maybe some day  
And I 
And the storm-grey sky 
Will be whole again 

The World's Gone Up in Flames

Someone told me 
You can't win a battle with only fire
Destroy the reason you wanted to fight
And all the supporters 
Cheering on the sidelines 
Will be the ones who tell you "she's right" 
Now you'll be alone 
With nothing to show for 
The ones who you lost 
In the flames 
And the war is over 
But you can't help but see
It was better then 
Now we're you and me
And there's no us 

Someone told me 
You can't win a battle with only fire 
Ice is slower 
Now the war is over 
And there's no more us 
And the world is frozen 
So don't throw fire when there's 
Only ice 
Fight fire with fire 
But there's nothing to show for 
The ones who were lost in the flames 

Someone told me 
You and I are over 
'Cause now the world's 


Remember the dreams we had? 
I remember
Your house was small 
With a fireplace 
And a creek in the garden 

Remember how you stole those coins?
Your mother was furious 
But the well wasn't even for wishes
I wish I could go back to then 

Remember the first time we went to your house? 
You were reading the book that I loved
I knew we'd be friends

Remember how we made daisy chains? 
At a park we stopped at 
On a road-trip 
And it was like we'd never grown up 
I wish I could go back there

Remember how you said you loved her? 
And you would never tell her 
Did you? 
I wish I could go back to when 
We were fairies 
Wearing flower crowns 
And you and I and Ciara 
Walked arm in arm 
Like Diana and Anne 

I loved those golden days 

Take Me to the Crossroads

Take me to the crossroads 
We'll see the world in the clouds
Tell me you'll never leave
This little town will be ours 
Even the rusted train-tracks
Take me down 
To the crossroads 

Under the stormy clouds 
In the abandoned dairy 
People go past 
They never stop 
It all seems too dreary 

Take me down to the crossroads
Hold me in your arms 
We'll see the world in the clouds 
This little town will be ours 


Remember back then?
You and I were the only ones there 
Who could debate without 
Turning to desperation 
Now it's all over 

This Town Is Cursed

This town is cursed 
People say you could stay for a while 
In the beginning of the end 
I was sick of lights 
And the city sights 
The brightest light they have here 
In the high-school stadium 
Stops your heart for a beat 

This town is cursed 
If I beckon to you don't follow 
I swear I'll leave tomorrow 
Heartbeats stop and beat in sink 
God, those eyes don't let me think 

Fireblue like the colour of your mind 
Just for a while 
Be mine 
Heartbeats stop and beat in sink 
God, those eyes don't let me think 
Stop I'll cry 
Same your name 
If I beckon don't follow 
I swear I'll leave tomorrow 

And the years go by 
Without the trace of another world 
Warm hands on stone-cold bricks 
Touch the ground and hope it sticks 
Swings that swing without a trace 
Of anyone from the interstate 
Let me tell you of something I should've learned
This town is...

I Know

You can never know me 
You just say you don't wanna see me
Ever again 
Well I know we  
Aren't good together 
And I know you 
Always think your better
But let me say this 
There's a lot you don't know 

Do you know there's more to the world
Did you hear 'bout how people get hurt 
Somebody told me 
I should feel for guys like you 

But you 
Should learn to think before you speak 
And I 
Know I know I know I will never let this go 
I have a life beyond what you know 
I know love and I know light 
I know your fire-blue eyes haunt the night
I know you told me you hated me 
I know I hurt you for what it's worth 

But you 
Should learn to think before you speak 
'Cause I know I know I know I 
Know what you could never know 

Fall for an Idea

Can you fall for an idea?
I certainly know I'd never fall for you
But your gleaming eyes 
In that stolen look 
Between the beach and the grass 
I know I was a mess 
My clothes were sopping 
From the freezing sea
My eyes were laughing 
As you looked at me 
The look was stolen 
Whisked away on a tender breeze 
I never really believed 
Your heart can skip a beat 
Your sculptured features were a little too perfect
Pointed nose 
Charcoal brows 
And the hidden smirk made me long
For something to call ours 
Our eyes locked for a second 
Your face sang pity and scorn 
I wonder if I'll ever 
Banish that look from my mind 
I made fun of you behind your back 
All in fun, I gather
I didn't mean it 
I just didn't want them to think 
And to read in my eyes 
And to see that I'm drunk on the nectar of spring

Important Notes

It's time to not stay quiet 
I don't believe in God. I'm not afraid to say it. I don't care if you're religious, or you believe in fairies, or you don't believe in anything. I don't care. So stop being afraid. 
I do not tolerate homophobia. I don't care if you "don't agree with the lifestyle", it's time we stop having to listen to that rubbish. No-one should be afraid to be who they are 
Racism is a problem. You all need to know that. If you think it's not, open your eyes. No-one should have to be afraid to walk alone. We need to start respecting everyone. 
Stop judging people by their looks. If you're going to say it, believe it, don't just say "it's what's inside that counts". Judge based on personality. 
We need to stop worrying about what people wear. Let Muslim's wear hijab, let people wear bikinis. Just stop judging, it's not your business. No-one should...

Why Must You Hate People for Loving?

There's more to love than what you know 
I know so many people who police love 
Love, by its very nature shouldn't be policed 
It just doesn't make sense 
Please tell me this makes sense
It's the pull that makes people run to their lovers 
It's the hum that buzzes in one's ears when one cannot stop 
Thinking about their dearest 
So where in this world of turmoil did someone get the idea...
That one should kill over another's love 
Why would you say it's wrong to love another 
Of the fairer sex 
Sappho new better 
If you are someone who would tell me 
"You cannot love her" 
I am ashamed of you 
Someone once said that they didn't hate those who 
Love in a way she didn't approve
But she couldn't agree with them on it 
It begs the question... 
Must you really stop the elated feeling?
Must you hate me for wanting wholly to be around her? ...

This is Goodbye From Me

Under a cloudy night 
You know I never wanted 
I never wanted this to be
How it ends for me and you 

Touch the frilly waves 
Pick out the perfect shells 
On a haunted beach 
I know I've loved you well

People will say 
That I could never love someone 
I love swells in the ocean 
I love the song of the sea 
After all we're too broken 
This is goodbye from me 

The cliffs are calling 
The sky is watching 
Good God I hate the way 
So many see a monster 

I'll never forget you 
I'll never let you leave my mind 
I'm the empty shell 
This is the song of the sea 
I've seen winged cupid painted  blind 

Pirates and plunderers 
The beast of the depths 
I would fight through the currents 
Soon we'll fall to our deaths 
You're the angel that guides 
Those lost at sea 
But we're too far away
Please hold on to me 

Farewell All the Big Dreams

Lights out in the movie theatre
Home for summer break 
Get drinks and burgers
For the last time for a while
Then you leave 
Say hurried goodbyes at the airport 
Guess this time I won't see
You for another while 

Time flies 
Collage closes in on the 
And all the grandest plans 
Are too childish 
Out the window with the mermaids 
Goodbye to rooftop fights 

Remember when we said 
We would never stop being friends
Remember how you pushed me 
Brick walls and blue jeans 
'Cause this time I won't see 
You for another while 

The cinema closes
No more dancing infront of the big screen
Farewell all the big dreams 
We had when we were kids
Alone on the curb
Friends left in the dust 
Move into a cottage 
With cracked paint and rust 
But your Instagram feed says it all
How did I think that you would miss me? 

If you ever want to see...

Until The Sun Goes Down

Stop the clock 
Stay with me until the sun goes down
Counting stars in the evergreen woods 
Let me see 
Did I ever tell you 'bout how you and me?

Stop the clock  
Stay with me until the sun goes down 
Reflecting stars in the wishing well 
And when you leave me to be 
In the woods by myself 
All I can say 
Is I wish you well 

Now the happiest time of our lives is over
And I want to know 
What's become of us 
Counting stars 
In each-other's eyes 
If only you and I could stop the clock 
Say a wish for more time 
Just tell me you wish we could 
Stay until the sun goes down 

Stop the clock 
Give me your sweater 'cause it's cold out now
The happiest time of our lives is over 
Counting stars in the wishing well
Say a wish for more time 
Lye with me until the sun goes down 

Silver Drops

Every drop of silver 
Every moon 
A silver drop 
Chaste fears abating 
Thee says thou wings are folded 
Awaiting the time is right
How queer it is to save the time
For dreams 
A sleepless night 
Thou'st  beguiled 
By the wings of ravens 
Cocooned in silver blood 
So in thou sleep 
The time is thus
Too short for fading fancies 
Too savored to be hence spent 
And thee 
The maiden fair and elegant 
Too delicate 
To wander the seas 
Too fair for days be spent
Amongst the opposite persuasion 
Angel's wings hence are polished ravens 
As some do roam the world with little grace
An my heart beats 
A drunken melody 
For you, fair girl, I have to faster pace
Thee'd never have the time to lend of me 


A little house
Ivy and Jasmine 
Every day is a little bit longer
As the philosopher taps her 
Wooden cane on the desk

You Wish I Was Like You

You think you know me
Oh how wrong you are 
Little girl with golden hair 
You will never know 
Those around admire from afar 
You could never know the cost
For what it's worth, this is what I want
Making mistakes
Wishing I was like you 
You've made a fair few mistakes 
You still believe the only way is yours 
You still think you'll take the noble path
And every step in silence I know
You wish I was like you 

Poetry Of Sleepless Nights

I know you'll never see me
Behind the frosted glass 
My heart aflame 
Our bodies splayed 
Apon the grass
A frenzy of the unsaid 
I know wilds your smile will never tame
Immune to treasures you never shall lay claim 

Through page upon page
Inking innate desires
The page I'll set aflame
Every lock is only as open 
As the key with which you enthrall it 

Now as days weep into weeks
Every night you haunt me
And the smile some do seek
Worthy wiles do abate 
As does the suffering 
Which that smile does cause 

Snow White sinks her teeth
Into the apple's snow-white flesh
Through desire and hate you blunder
And as she did know the cost
As you cause eyes to weep
But alas, Snow White is lost 
You haunt each dream and sleep

I wish you could ever know
How I would see you harmed 
Maybe this isn't how it should go 
You left...

I Thought My Life Was Hard

I thought my life was hard
The people have hurt me
Then I heard 
How your parents don't let you
Dye your hair
I swear I won't forget you 

God knows we aren't perfect
No closer should he be so
And I know you are worth it
These words will be 
The seeds we sew
And I thought my life was hard

I thought my life was hard
Between the whirlwinds and the wreckage
And you said 
You were in love with her
Oh how life's a wild tempest 

You call 
In the day as you walk
I sit
And we talk 
And I realize this 
Is the real you 
Beneath the good Christian hair
And the lies stuck like glue

And I thought my life was hard
Two loves 
Four years
Fall for a friend
Not for innocent ears 
I wish I knew better
How the world's gears tick
On a lazy summers day
Blooms friend-ship that sticks 

Treasure Maps and Rum Excerpt

I wriggled my wrists, nudging my body against Amy's. Her dead-weight shifted off of me, but before I could do anything, she fell to the floor with a thunk. The bump on her head must have been bad--she was out cold.                                             
    Suppressing the tidal wave of fear pumping in my chest, I took a shaky breath and moved my bound hands in the dim light, fumbling in the darkness behind me. My finger brushed something sharp and cold. I had found a way to cut the rope. 
    Any idea one might have on how to cut the rope on one's wrists in semi-darkness when one's best friend may be dead and one is in the hull of a pirate ship immediately leaves one's head in such a situation. I grabbed aimlessly for the handle of whatever blade I was touching. Then something occurred to me. Would a pirate really leave something like a knife so close...

Friendship Tweet

Friendship and Spiders

Friends are there, across the vast and tedious ocean. But remember that string you pretended connected you, the one made of jumping spider silk? It's still there. No matter how many waves wash over it and try to cast it away, it's still there. 

March Grab Bag


Truth is something you don't want 
Raptured in gory details 
Universally acknowledged as good
Taunting and haunting and unforgettable 
How do we unknow it? 

Old House

Water down by the river
Flowin' like the breeze 
In all the sails that're ripped in two
Autumn makes me think of all the things 
We never got to do
Ducklings an' fledglings 
Anne of Green Gables 
And all the other books left on the shelf
And in the reeds by the willows 
See the snakes and all the rest
'Cause this heaven's gonna turn to hell
The grass green turned sickly pale 
The orbweb's palace a woven jail 
And every time your reflection 
Just turns out to be a shadow 
Seeing things
That's what comes of  too much time alone
In the old house with the ghosts
Of all the happy times we've never known
The windows fog up from time to time
The autumn arrives and I'm 
Standing still under a lamp from Narnia
Wishing I could just go home
To the life with the ones
Who were never here 
To the four walls 
And red-brick 
And no...

Year by Year

Memories Of Everything

Year 1. I was born. A little girl with stormy blue eyes and soft chocolate hair. My sister stayed at our cousin's house the first night I was alive. 
Year 2. I learnt to speak, and walk. My mother took many videos in this time, capturing the precious firsts and moments shared by my sister and I. 
Year 3. I learnt to play with dried beans. I learnt about the world. 
Year 4. I got a tricycle, which I had to get off to ride up the little driveway dips in the path, every few meters. The trike came rapped in a piece of stunning green fabric. I was in a play with my sister's drama class.
Year 5. I met my best friend. She had olive skin and thick black hair, but looked surprisingly like my sister and I. She was unlike any other person I met. 
Year 6. Camping at Peel Forest. I believed in magic then. 

Make It Out Alive (A Song)

It's a race where no-one wins 
Your hands are tied
Close your eyes
Stumble forward 
And pray that you can make it out alive

Rain pours until sky is dry
Kids fall and get back up again
They fall, fall until they fly
It's a race where no-one wins
Most stumble forward
And pray that they can make it out alive

I'm waiting for you outside
In the garden
Under a stormy sky
But if you wi-in 
No-one knows your name 
That's a part of the game 

Most loose 
Some are told they won
And when you win
No-one'll know your name 
It's a part of the game
Your hands are tied
Close your eyes
Stumble forward 
And pray that you can make it out alive

There's a garden by the gates
If you make it you'll meet the fates
But if you wi-in No-one'll know your name
It's just a part of the game

Your hands are tied

Musings Of A Peculiar Soul

Also, I can understand the feeling of genuinely not being like other kids. But it's more like... how do I explain it? it's like being a farmer in a field of sheep, where you want to be away from them because they don't understand you. And they all want to be around each-other because they are like one-another, but you can't help but feel that there are thoughts that go through your mind they could never understand.

Quote of the day

I feel like I'm living two lives and there's another that no-one really knows about and I hardly remember.
-Quote of the day

Prologue of a Story

The man weaved back and forth like a light drunk moth around a lamp. The reason Amber Harmon was in a warehouse parking lot at 3:00 AM, standing by a sign saying "Off limits", alone bar the stranger, is another thing. But we'll get to that. Amber couldn't help but be fascinated by the way he moved: drunkenly and in useless circles. She knew that if she valued her life, the smart thing to do would be to run and not turn back, but Amber had always loved adventure. Ever since she was a little girl, she had wanted to do everything independently and do everything that could be done. At age four and a half Amber discovered a drain with the grate off. Needless to say, the fire-brigade had had a stern word with her parents upon Amber's reresection from the depths of the drain's muddy pipe.

My Soul Is Scattered

My soul is scattered 
Resting amongst the stars
And when I rise 
A phoenix girl 
I loose everything but scars

I'm Happy For You

So, first of all, this is a song. Second, it's a song I based of a story I'm writing. It's from the perspective of one of the main characters, so just keep that in mind. Also, should I post the story? 

Your Facebook status says taken
I remember when that was by me
But darling believe me
I've never known 
That this was all for the best
Take a break 
With your 
New fiancé 
In a little town inland
And believe me when I say
I'm happy for you
Can you be 
Happy for me? 
You and him can 
Raise your kids 
I promise I won't ruin it
And if I meet them when we're older
I won't tell them 
I was the one who thought you could be bolder
Now I'll travel the world 
And you'll 
Stay where you are 
And we'll never be lonely
Because I'm happy for you
Can you be 
Happy for me? 
And if I...


Touch me in the moonlight
As the comes up on the horizon 
Let me see you without armor
See me with your bright eyes
Tell me I'm the one for you 
(One for you)
(For you) 
And when the geese come home to nest
You're still here doing what's best
'Cause you're the only one who never changes
I met an angel by the forest
She told I was worth it
And then the sun went down again
I never saw that angel again
And when the others all are loosing 
In a life they never choose 
You're still here
And I'm still wishing I had never known 
They say some never meet the one
Stuck in the middle between hatred and love
I know I met the one 
And she would never change
But she was from above
They say angels never stay
Go back to love some other
From Olympus 
And I know I'll never meet the...

Let's Run Away

I wanna know 
What's beyond the stone wall
Where ivy grows
And no-one goes
And no-one comes back from 
I wanna see your face
Let you show me the way
Let you touch my cheek 
And say 
It'll be okay
Beyond the backwoods
And I'm falling 
Falling from the cliffside
Facing backwards
And I can't see
Beyond your green eyes
Hold on to me
I wanna know
What's beyond the stone wall
Where ivy grows
And no-one goes
And no-one comes back from
I wanna see your face
Let's run away
Into the backwoods
And I can't see beyond
Your green eyes
Glowing like fire-flies 
Let's run away 
Let's run away 
In the pasture 
By the backwoods
Falling backwards
Into where I don't know
And I can't see beyond
Your green eyes
Like fire-flies 

Prologue: A Grey Cat

The morning air is crisp and cold as Amber walks along the cracked footpath, withdrawn from the world and hurrying. A twig cracking underfoot is almost enough to make the teenager leap. She curses herself for being so on-edge and quickens her pace until she's almost sprinting. Maybe she should have left yesterday after all. The inky night would have hidden her longer. 
    A grey cat wanders carelessly past a barked BMW. The cat licks her paws, stopping in amber way and mewing plaintively, gazing up  at the quickly fading darkness. 
    The sun on the horizon glows the colour of an autumn leaf, edging upwards tentatively. It bathes the empty street in golden light, and the atmosphere quickly become filled with anticipation. Something's going to happen. 

25 Word Story-Time

25 word story-time! I hope you like these, children (you're not really children, but I'm saying it because it's like story-time for teenagers). Enjoy the stories :) 

The ivy chains the house, a prisoner. But the prisoner is free to leave, trapped in his own world. It's the last thing I see. 

Join me for some icecream. This could well be our last moments of child-hood, darling. 

Come away with me, to a place where outcasts are the norm, and we can just be ourselves. Just that - us. Our place, darling. 

If I were a bird, I would be a raven. People misjudge you, when you act different. People expect you to be some sweet villain. 

You and I 
I just want it to be you and I and a field of flowers, alone with our thoughts. And I'll tell you you're wonderful, darling. 

Little People (Part One)

The people aren't real. They can't think. They're just lifeless pieces of clay, my job being to make sure they function as a thing to create the new magic school. At least, I don't think they can think. 
    I drizzle some creativity into this one, a visionary. She has copper hair and gun-metal-blue eyes, with a figure the size and shape of a doll. A little one, like a corn-doll. Of course, with creativity, I give her a sense of self-worth; without any she would never accomplish anything. But, as is always the fear with a healthy sense of self-worth and a good idea of one's abilities, she has  to fear being boastful. Otherwise, the other little people may reject her as a doll or honks her own mini-horn. 
    The morning sun streams into my workshop, flowing over the red-wood surface of my old desk. Something catches the light and sparkles and glows as bright as...

Mid-February Grab Bag

My Home

a descriptive piece about your favorite city/place without revealing the location! That's for your readers to guess!

You can get to the city in just five kilometers if you live in the suburbs. Compared to where I live now (where it's an hours drive), that's so tiny. I never thought it was a short distance before. 
    The cardboard cathedral. Iconic, yet still a lasting reminder of all the wreckage and death this city's been through. The cardboard looks like giants' toilette rolls, supporting the cathedral. I would say what religion the cathedral is, but I don't know. I really should learn about the city I call home. The cathedral has beautiful stained-glass pictures for windows. 
    I remember the river, with ducks whom the city-goers fed (and one very lost seal). I used to feed the ducks frozen peas, like the woman at the wild-life place told us. I also used to tell off my friends for...

My Own Fault

Everyone I touch turns to glass
Fragile, too easy to break
Let them touch me, let them see my heart
But still, I fear I'll too much take
For in the lakes my feelings turn to water
Flowing, never a shock or a jolt 
But I hope they will not see me stripped of this
And realize I'm forever sprinkling salt
To banish the demons, alas it's my own fault

Eighteen Word Story

How is it that we can never quite let go, yet everything will drift away. Now is forever. 

It should have been us

Why couldn't that be me?
I see all those friends I never met 
On your Instagram feed
I had told you my darkest secret
Before they met you
You and Koko, at the beautiful beach
I should have been there
I knew you before you fell for her
Before you knew her
Why am I not here?
Just an ocean, not far
Sometimes it feels like a moment
Now I feels like a universe
I should be in those pictures
But instead
I'm being told I'll never make it
By people I just met
So when I see you and her
I can't help but think
It should have been us

Stereo-types and Rebuttals

Stereo-type rebuttals 

Lesbians and bi girls are masculine - I know plenty of traditionally "feminine" lesbians and bi girls. And more importantly, femininity and masculinity are social constructs, so...

Gay guys are feminine - Ditto. 

Women who conform to traditionally "feminine" rolls in society BECAUSE THEY CHOOSE TO can't be real feminists - It's all about choice and everyone understanding that they CAN and being able to do whatever job or occupation they choose. 

Racial stereo-types - ...Just no. 

The classic... Dumb blondes - 
The smartest person I've ever met is a blonde girl. 

Gendered stereo-types (girls can't do sports, girls don't do maths, boys don't do art or crafts, women are home-makers...) - 
I have to say, these ones just make me want to scream. 

Basketball is gay - How the ---- does a sport become associated with a sexuality? JUST HOW?? No explanation? I thought not. 


How we find ourselves longing
Oh, for a whisper from their frozen lips
To see a single shadow cast 
By a sweet love, before the season tips
How we desire a single day to see them
Before winter sets in 
Before another year begins
To love them wholly with ourselves, therein 
And yet another burning day turns over
And night falls crisp and dark as the deepest lake
In its midst, a child, in a world bleak
Wishing for some lovely talk in to partake
And I'm the child, with eyes murky and longing
For my love, for a friend I'll never loose
But where or who or when, I do not yet know
So I leave my feelings burried
Beneath a foot of snow

Basketball, Gay, and Tearing People Down

"Eww, basketball's gross. It's gay." 
There are so many problems 
I can count three 
What a ridiculous sentence 
Darling, you see
What's gay about basketball?
It's a freaking sport 
What would you know about being gay?
Number two 
You just said gay is gross
Think about it
What's wrong with you? 
There's nothing gross about being gay
You really ought to learn,
My dear
Number three
Last but not least
I think you should know this by now
Just because you don't like something
Do you really have to
Tear others down?

February Grab Bag

A Sea Monster Friend Of Yours

Dear reader,
I truly hope you can forgive me for this. I really do. No-one else has done so, but I honestly didn't mean to do it. If, on this dreary day (believe me, it is one), you can summon the courage to do what not a soul has done, and forgive the monster of the seas, toss a shell in the water. Just do it. I promise you won't regret it, darling. Of course, I understand if you cannot do it and despise me to the depths of the ocean. Most people do.  
A sea monster friend of yours

Rage, Love, Hurt

Rage boils inside each person
A merry, exuberant anger
And yet, each person covers it up
Cloaks it, makes themselves think 
They should be better

Love touches the heats of all
But they don't say so too much
Lest other's think them to attached
To face a greater fall 

When hurt and sadness cover you
Is when you truly crumble
And touch the bottom of the sea
And from great heights you'll tumble
To reach the place you think you must deserve 
A place where you are but a being
Who has been hurt
And there's nothing left to cover up or hide

So every day, you say you're alright

Feelings should be watered down
So people cannot see them
For people are too afraid to drown
In a world where no-one needs them

Every person touches up their appearance
And the way the present
For no-one wants someone 
Who stares too much
Or who dares not to repent

25 Words

Well This Is A VERY Short Story

Under the surface of every lake is depths you'll never see. Remember no-one else can hear your heart-beat, but don't let it get to you. 

Bright Black Eyes

A raven's eyes, black as the night 
Taunting and boring 
Hauntingly bright 
Bright as the stars 
That linger in the sky
Bright as the light in a small child's eye
Dark as the shadows 
Cast by dead autumn leaves
Alive as the dandelions 
That bloom in cemeteries 
When you look her in the eye
You feel the scream
The ringing of silence
The shattering of a dream
The eyes of a raven
Accused of staring
Don't look for too long
At risk of appearing
Like the predatory bird
That stalks in the shadows
But remember the beauty 
Of Raven's bright black eyes

People Who Touch Your Heart

You'll only meet a few of them
The people who touch your heart
Through all the misty woodlands 
And being torn apart
When you meet them you hold on
And never let them go
Because some people are meant to be
Through rain and wind and snow
You will find them 
Hear their calls 
Like sea-birds going home to nest
You will meet them 
And know
Leaving is not for the best
Because most people won't see you
They'll see someone who is drawn
And they'll ignore you
Or hurt you
And finally 
You'll meet the right person 
And night will become dawn

A Thousand Hearts

If in the world your heart is lost
In rain, in a sea of hearts
Remember you are one
One soul, one single heart
And you have a world inside 
A bottle 
With a kork
To the outside world 
It's just broken glass
You see through the fogged up 
And see beyond what they can ever know
If they see you and say 
They only see someone who doesn't know
You remember the world is broken
And no-one will ever know
What it is to be you
What it is to see a thousand hearts
And only know two


The woman's eyes were a soft brown, like a horse's, framed with dark lashes. She had chestnut hair that fell to her shoulders, not curly but not straight, with just a few strands of silver. Her face was a timeless one, with a smile so kind and caring that the bitterness of age had never reached her. She was in her mid forties, I would guess, but seemed younger, without really seeming younger at all. More like the face of someone who had never known the joys of parenthood. This was a woman I had never once seen angry; it didn't seem to be in her nature at all. She was patient, and incapable of making anyone uncomfortable. This woman was probably a goddess. 

Pandemic Metaphor

My Mind

In dreams our minds are all 
In life our minds are none 
Through dream by dream 
We rise and fall 
And in this pandemic 

My mind is one 
Through every dream my mind turns
Like the gears of a broken clock
And every time after unfurls ferns 

And every time we go back the same
One thing, like a good shepherds flock

Stuck inside our hearts we'll never break away
Back to what we know
And so again breaks an abridged day 
And yet, the sun sets gold again

Stuck in an endless cycle
Cannot escape the world 
Of whirlwinds and a broken bicycle

It's always the same dark place
Through dream by dream again
And every time I think of it
The same heartbroken face
And the day ends to the same again
We'll never escape

Some Poems I Wrote For A Friend Because She Wanted Writing Inspiration

Write about the places 
Having loved them before 
And let people remember
Those you knew before 
Cobblestone pathways 
And ivy-ridden walls 
Not the bright places
In which people stand tall
See the dim places 
And all the abandoned barns
Yet this is bright all and all

Write about a girl 
Having cobalt eyes and cropped hair
And a pale green blouse 
The skin is blushed and fair
Dull denim jeans 
Over hills of rolling emerald
Yellow overalls 
Over crimson cheeks she's freckled
Under the shining stars she wishes 
What a glorious sight
Amber on wood and light in her eyes
Not a story but a universe 
To live and to love
To hold and be held by 
Over the hills and valleys 
Take flight in the indigo sky 
As the girl sleeps she dreams
Lochs silver and glowing jewels 
Knights with her cobalt eyes 
And Shakespeare's funny fools 
By the shimmering creek the girl stops
Outside in the golden light ...


Are you afraid of the dark? they might ask
It's the slow but steady oxidization of our bodies that kills us
But in a way it's also our souls
Straining and smashing against the cages of our own humanity
And the loves of our lives being plucked off one by one
By the clammy clutches of death
In the day you can't see it
The sunshine smothers it
So no, I'm not afraid of the dark 
I'm afraid of the absence in which we see our own truths

Memory Object

The Paper

A scrap of paper is lying on my bed. It is covered in drawings; lacking detail; rushed; doodles of stick figures. On one side of the piece of paper is a drawing titled "The Anti-Child-Mobile", with the label "Jeanne driving" and No Kids written on the side of the truck. 
    Looking at the paper, I remember that day at the zoo. The kerfuffle on the bus of children screaming and people talking. The drawing idea started with me writing we can talk like this on a piece of sketchbook paper, when Jeanne buried her head in  her hands and sulked. I cheered her up by drawing drawing things like "The Anti-Child Mobile" and "Jeanne as a supervillain". 
    Looking back, that day is one of my fondest memories of Jeanne. I still have the paper I drew those silly doodles on. 

Mid-January Grab Bag

Why The Night Is Dark

A long time ago, the world was a barren place
A desert in it's own right
A place where the eternally damned fear the night
When the night set in
It wasn't dark 
There was no such thing as dark
The muses told a young girl 
That her mother was dead 
Then the worst night of all the earth set in
And the creatures that emerged from the cracks
In the fiery light
As they did every night
Were controlled by a young girl
Who wanted right to be right
And the world reeked of death
As was wished for by a girl
Wanting her pound of flesh
And the girl couldn't find her mother
Amidst the fire that flamed
For her mother wad hidden in plane sight
After all, she was named
Light was invisible 
To the naked eye
Light's daughter
Soared mountains high
In the midst of the worst night
Where creatures were ruthless
She had a...


Don't be ashamed of scars
    On the inside
        On the outside
        They are just
    In your life's 
        Adorning the skin
            Of the world's greatest 

I Want To Know

I want to know,
Even when I try, why do you not speak?
I want to know, 
How can you possibly avoid me for an entire week?
I want to know,
If the stars were brighter,
Would you maybe look up to the sky?
I want to know, 
If your wings were stronger,
Would you fly?
I want to know,
What goes through the mind,
Of a shy and untouchable person?
I want to know,
Even if a part of your soul becomes exposed,
It will be worth it 
I want to know,
From the valleys to the sand-dunes to the mountains
I want to know,
From Lovers Lane to woods to pleasant fountains 
I want to know,
Is your fair-haired head,
Somewhere else right now?
I want to know,
In this world of poems,
Did you find love somehow?

A New World

The downfall and up rise of all 
Down or to the skies 
A mission 
To harness the ambition 
To understand the rise and fall
To see with our minds
To be an adult, to understand
To grow, and look into the eyes
Of the future
These'll teach ya 
You'll understand 
What we planned
Won't always stand
That man 
And woman
And human 
Are evolving 
And changing 
And making
A new mission
But a few
Will inform you 
That to be you 
You have to be like them 
And then you'll understand
This mission 
And understand 
That what we planned
Won't always stand 
And it will be alright
To take flight
And change 
Unto the night
And you'll see a new world
Carved out by you
And me
And we 
Will be invincible 
With science and art 
And the start of a new worlds
And woman 
And man
And human
Will be moving
Into a better world
Where people...

Chapter one: Francis Lavender

Frances Lavender

At approximately 6:14 PM on new year's eve, I walk into the kitchen of Crabby and Crusty's. 
    "Frances-" Adison begins, in his wavering voice. "We appear to have a problem..." Another one. Great. It's been nothing but problems since I inherited this place. 
    "Well for god's sake, Addy, spit it out." I stop short of adding that if the toilet is clogged again, he might as well tell a pack of drunk chimpanzees to stop throwing napkins down it, for all the help telling off teenagers does.
    The pungent scent of sea-food wafts around the kitchen; hot and intoxicating. I sometimes wonder why I run this place, despite loathing fish of any kind. 
    "No, not that." Addy allows himself a small, strained smile--probably in pity of me for having to deal with the undoubtedly treacherous information he's about to divulge. "We appear to have double-booked a table for twelve..." 

The Fairest Fair

In the shadow of the wooden veranda 
By the old stone wall
Under a sky draped over all
But girls told they cannot be 
Girls told they already are free
Girls told it's what is best
You'll cry but you can never leave the nest
Stay close, my  dear
Or you ne'er will be
The same as me
Or as good as me

By the little dairy
On lonely row
Philosophical thinkers
On and on go
In the life of the past 
But we can never know
What's right
So for a million moons this will last
And if you dare to poke t he bear
Or ask is fair what's really the fairest fair? 
Then they will tell you, of this I'm sure
You must be rid these notions, my dear
Don't question if fair is fair
Don't challenge the ancient law
Don't ask about a different kind of love
For all's fair in love and war


Before the applause
There's a moment
It's short
But a lifetime resides in't 
And all its hopes, fears,
Dreams and doubts
And the memory
Of saying something
And no-one laughing
Or even looking
And that moment we
What was all this for,
If no-one applauds?

Book Review Competition 2021

The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy: The Greatest Book

Have you ever wished that you could sail the high-seas, or become a doctor on a ship in the 18th centaury? Me too, me too. Even if you just wished to escape the drag of day-to-day life (especially in a pandemic), or to find someone who for once agrees with your feminist views. Sometimes, the world is a lonely, lonely place. 
    The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy is hands-down the best book I've ever read. Lying on a bed, in a room, in a double-story house, surrounded by a world of people who would very much like to tell you off or demand you be more lady-like. It sucks. The Lady's Guide to Petticoats and Piracy holds something. . . personal. You could almost forget, whilst immersed in pages of old friendships, philosophy, and trying again and again, that there are tons of other people who have read it. That it doesn't make you special. Except it does,...

“All Alive”

They Bay

I feel the heat pounding on my back, as we traipse our way across the mountain, in search of a cooling bay. The day is not so hot, really, but the hike is like fire and brimstone. Our legs and feet are sweaty and aching, the brief coolness of Wineglass Bay fading off our backs like footprints made of water. 
    A bay comes into sight; cobalt and aquamarine water spilling onto pale sand. You can hear a sense the water, it's presence could make the deepest fire-pit feel just a bit of peace. It's waves, washing rhythmically in and out from the shore, are small, calm and peaceful. 
    In the moment, I know how Tantalus felt. To be down there; to feel the cold water mold to the shape of our bodies and then flow on as if we were never there; we want that. But the rocks are jagged, the climb to steeply downhill and...

The Things That Change And Those That Don't

The things that change: 
I have two adult cousins now 
I still remember Ella's thirteenth birthday
We pretended they were smiles

Going to her house was a "Shack Attack" 
Because they were the Shackletons 
And I remember Ella Saying people asked 
If she was related to Ernest Shackleton 
I had to google that to find out his first name
I only ever knew Shackleton as the Shacks 
So much has changed in five years
Ella is no-longer a kid
I'm not really a kid either
The Shacks moved house
We moved country
Our lives grew up
But we're still cousin's 
No-one asks about Ernest Shackleton 
Teenagers these days probably haven't heard of him
So they don't question it

And some things don't change: 
Ella was born a grown up
As they said of Dora in Anne of Green Gables 

Ella's still friends with cody
I can't believe the kid 
Who broke his arm on a swing
Now has...


Her hands pulled away from mine as the ship began it's journey. It's for the better, Madeline said the day she decided to leave. I still remember the moment her eyes lit up, as some friend told her of the wonders of Paris. If only I was joining her there, packing a suitcase with a few frocks and some books from Nana, joining this girl in France. But that wasn't meant to be, her and I being both of the fairer sex. 
    So instead I'll stay here, taking on the family business. 
    Her hands pull away, then she's gone.

Green-Haired Girl

Here I sit, eating Freddo Frogs out of a mug my friend bought me as a birthday present. The mug says "not fast, not furious". Ironically, I feel that, but also fast and furious. I know I'm just another teenage girl, wanting to be special. I know that my story is not one of great loss or great tragedy. But I still understand the feeling of being judged unfairly by people around you. I have been told to my face by someone I called a friend that she "doesn't approve of the LGBT+ community." And that such a community chooses to be that way. That makes it so much worse. 
    May I ask, darling, why you think I would choose something --as a lover of traveling-- that rules of half the world, including the country that was my father's home? 
    And then there's the others. There's the girl who is so like me, and yet so...


It's a fickle thing, faith. 
Full disclosure: I have nothing against people being any religion. I'm not trying to tear anyone down here, I'm just trying to tell a story from a point of view that sometimes doesn't get shown properly. 
I am atheist, born and raised. My grandparents were Catholic, on one side at least. My mother and father were both raised religious, so it makes me cringe to read people saying that atheists are only the ones who had bad experiences with religion. I know my parents were happy as Christians. But I also know what they are no-longer -- and never will be again-- Christian. Why did they stop being Christian? you ask, well they just were and then they weren't. 
I've been to church twice in my life, as far as I remember. It was two very different experiences. The first time, I think my dad wanted to show my sister and I what church was...

Dear Nana

I don't believe in the afterlife 
I never really did 
You get one life, then it's all over
Shall I die, life forbid 
But I know you'd be proud of me
If still you were alive
If only from some distant place you could see
My sister and I
And despite your ashes in the ground; you live on
In the scent of a shining yellow rose
Now I know I barely knew you, of only tragedy 
But I hope that you believed in me before the close 
The pages of your life now ripped in two
And me, a child -- too young to understand 
But I know you must have loved me
So now, in my mind on your shallow grave I stand
I have only one memory of you, before your death
Now I canvass my mind it's two 
You arose from your bedroom, into the living room 
Where I had taken a seat on your arm-chair...

Prologue: In The Beginning

"Get your bioluminescent hands off my daughter this instant or so help me I'll shoot you through the heart." She lowered the gun to His chest, just left of the center.    
    "Well, that's you, isn't it, dear? You never could resist a pun," He said, chuckling. He dropped the warm bundle to the cold earth. Some of the quilt unraveled, reveling a pale pink infant. The baby cried, scrunching up her red face and balling her tiny, chubby hands into fists.                 
    The woman grabbed the baby, shooting Him a glare. She still --however-- held the gun, pressed firmly to His chest. "If I did this now, you'd deserve it." 
    He sighed. "If you do, you and I both know it won't be the end."                                                 
    A gun went off. The woman ducked to the ground, setting the baby next to her in an instant, but He remained standing, apparently unfazed. 

The Drabble

Crumpled Wings

As I looked out over the azure water, I knew no-one would remember me. Or this moment. My dark wings were crumpled with the weathering of years; my eyes were tired, but open none-the-less. A swallow dived and swooped over the bay. The fallen never last long on this mortal coil. I knew that this was the moment; the moment I would be forgotten, forever lying at the bottom of the ocean. I knew my wings would not hold out, that they would crumple along with me. My heart didn't race, rather slowed. I knew that this was the end. 

Pre-Christmas Profiles

December Profiles of Human Beings

13 years old, female 
She's tucked into a chair with arm-rests, switching intermittently between writing, wasting time by sitting upside-down on the plush red rug, re-reading Shrill by the amazing author Lindy West, behind the cover of her maths book, and actually doing maths. Schist- she was caught on her laptop and had to make up an excuse about thinking of something and needing to write it down. She crunches on the remnants of the mint and caramel lolly she was eating. The Christmas tree beside her glows with fairy-lights, the wind outside picks up a bit, nearly overturning the pomegranate tree. Her legs are tucked up onto the peach-coloured plush of the royal-seeming chair, as they have been for hours. 

15-nearly-16 years old, female 
She's somewhere at school. Back in the place she swore never to go back to, probably in  class or eating. Or maybe she's run away from that pit of horridness...


The Christmas was somewhat subdued that year in the Reynolds house-old. One eighteen-year-old son having been hidden and claimed dead, the risk his secret being exposed would pose too great to risk going to war. One fifteen-year-old daughter desperately wanting to help properly in the war, but not allowed because she was 1. too young, and 2. too female. Damn those people who make the rules about war. And then, of course, one mother terrified for her eldest son, just twenty-three and missing in war. If William didn't appear in another week, he was surely dead.
    "Florence?" Alex asked warily, looking over at where his younger sister was smashing the tip of her dip-pen into the paper faces of politicians who had done nothing to allow women to fight in the war, one by one.
    "Yes?" Florence's eyebrows were knitted together with the anger and worry of weeks like this, holed up in the small cottage...

My Opinion

Here I am, waiting for the water in the pot on the stove to boil so I can cook two eggs. Usually I would have boiled the jug first, so it would start boiling a lot quicker, but today I don't want to do that. It may or may not have something to do with finding a dead spider suspended in the water of the jug two days ago, hanging there like some strange specimen kept preserved in amber. The jug has since been washed out and used by my family members, and as far as I know none of them have dropped dead. Maybe I'm just over-cautious. 
    So, I'm sitting here trying to write something. Waiting for water to boil. I think I'll write about how societies stereo-types negatively effect most of the population. 
    Now think about this for a minute, has anyone ever told you to not wear something because it wasn't right for...


A dark-haired girl walks outside the house. Her hair is shoulder-length and a bit frizzy, with a slightly-to-short fringe. Her freckled face looks younger than thirteen, maybe eleven. But she is thirteen. 
    The girl is wearing neon floral leggings, but somehow she pulls it off. Her shirt is a black Pusheen one, maybe to balance the colour. Or maybe it's just because it's the first T-shirt she found after showering to tame those unruly tangled locks. 
    The girl is wearing rainbow socks, a part of the gift from the youth branch of the city-council, which suddenly decided that under fifteen-year-olds weren't allowed and kicked her and a whole bunch of other kids off the committee.
    The girl walks to the car and unlocks it with the clicky thingy, retrieving her pride stickers from Typo. She turns and stops walking for a minute on the way back to the house, watching the noisy minor bird...

Sonnet. 3

I am so very tired of these people 
The ones who tell me they are trying now
They preach and place their hands in a steeple
Saying I am hurting you, oh but how? 
Now I reside in endless fear, unjust!
The sweet cocoon of childhood soon popped 
And they believe me still of them to trust
So yes, after the insults for they shopped
I can't believe a word thee said, darling
Thee pelts me with an endless spray of stones
And leaves me and injured animal snarling
To to kill and fend for myself all alone
    If did not I have other friends I'm lost
    But thee will never know what is the cost

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

The Story Of Me

Never before have I felt so motivated to write. 
I quarantine, I have mostly simply survived how I had to. I would eat chocolate, binge-watch Netflix, and draw and write the kind of things that were okay, but by no means ground-breaking. 
Now, after sitting staring at a blank screen for hours just this-morning, I finally have the idea which will hopefully change my teenage life. 
This strange ambition began a few days ago, at the museum, of all places. Ciara and Mum and I were sitting in the café in Melbourne museum, waiting for our orders to arrive. It was a weekend day, one that should be fun, but wasn't. 
I remember 3 things about that trip to the café: 

  1. ​There was a jet-black pigeon inside. It was so dark, that I thought it's eyes were pure white until it flew down from it's perch to rest on the ground near me and I could see it properly. To...

A Poem For All The Small Towns

A small town, not the heart of a city
But the heart of the world for a child
Lakes of cobalt and and trees so pretty
In the south of New Zealand where the weather is mild 

Underneath lie the secrets, yet to be told
Where we only see the surface of the dam 
For some being young, for some growing old 
Or just buying coffee is the plan

Then we will return 
To the hearts of big cities 
Where university students learn 
Of things in midsummer pretty 

Now we all wonder, of things we don't know
Where the heart of the world beats slowly 
Near a coffee shop and the place where post goes 
And even the criminals aren't lowly 

But past the car drives 
In the blink of an eye
The mountains it climbs 
And forgets what is wise

For children, in it's heart
A bump in the road is a mountain 
The distance keeping apart 
The world...


In Tasmania the bluest water 
The waves crash over hidden sandy shores
The ferry our silent giant porter
On the island for Hobart we're on course
To be there before the day turns over
So night is a mere gift to be received 
Driving past patches of grass and clover
Upon arrival we are so relieved 
The house a cool oasis from the day
A basement sort of part of the ground floor 
So now away from the arrival bay
We soon will leave for a year out that door
    Tasmania the home of friends of ours 
    Under the sky and the ivory clouds 

Icy Honey Eyes

I met a young boy on lonely row 
He and I were certain to be some friends
But what he truly was I did not know
I said thee soon will meet both of our ends
One day did I and he fight for a while
Thee hates me for something I am said I
He's stunned and turns my frown into a smile
Trust not not those who meddle is what is wise 
If thee trusts any man who walks a path
Thee must for sure know this is not so wise
But he and I did not, so walk our path
And don't deceive just look me in the eyes
    If thee believes those who so quickly lie 
    Be warned, my friend, of icy honey eyes

Sonnet. 1

When people are desperate they will kill 
Whether friends or enemies matters not
They will shoot them down with sufficient skill 
And leave them in the shrubs to die and rot 
We turn a blind eye for a longtime friend
And what they do can matter so little 
For if we turn our heads we'll meet our end 
And our great friendship will die and whittle
The branches of this friendship soon will die
This driftwood will be gone to green seas 
​And all we've been living shall be a lie
And all they've done is hurt and trackdown me
And whether friend or enemy they be
We'll die and be reborn from greener trees


Being an author isn't always about book signings and publications.
It's writing a chapter-plan at 12 o'clock at night whilst sitting in bed. 
It's your eyes being tired from staring at the lamplit page of your typo notebook.
It's you hand being so used to scrawling down notes that it's almost as easy as touch-typing.
I said almost.
And then it's noticing that the first letter of each line has got further and further out down the page as it did when you were little. 
It's already regretting the decision to write this now because you'll be tired at scouts tomorrow. 
It's your diet coke pen bein heavy in you hand.
It's not being able to get to sleep when you actually ty and wondering if it's the actual diet coke you drunk earlier. 
Was that today?
It's then remembering that coke has never stopped you sleeping before. 
It's realizing you only tried to sleep for to seconds before giving...

Excerpt From My Novel (Warning: Slight spoiler, so if you're ever going to by this when it's eventually published, BE WARNED)

The figure in a black cloak scoped the area. They knew the old abandoned barn would light like a candle once they put a match to it.

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

The Story Of Me

Never before have I felt so motivated to write. 
I quarantine, I have mostly simply survived how I had to. I would eat chocolate, binge-watch Netflix, and draw and write the kind of things that were okay, but by no means ground-breaking. 
Now, after sitting staring at a blank screen for hours just this-morning, I finally have the idea which will hopefully change my teenage life. 
This strange ambition began a few days ago, at the museum, of all places. Ciara and Mum and I were sitting in the café in Melbourne museum, waiting for our orders to arrive. It was a weekend day, one that should be fun, but wasn't. 
I remember 3 things about that trip to the café: 

  1. ​There was a jet-black pigeon inside. It was so dark, that I thought it's eyes were pure white until it flew down from it's perch to rest on the ground near me and I could see it properly. To...

Creative Nonfiction Competition 2020

The Story Of Me

Never before have I felt so motivated to write. 
I quarantine, I have mostly simply survived how I had to. I would eat chocolate, binge-watch Netflix, and draw and write the kind of things that were okay, but by no means ground-breaking. 
Now, after sitting staring at a blank screen for hours just this-morning, I finally have the idea which will hopefully change my teenage life. 
This strange ambition began a few days ago, at the museum, of all places. Ciara and Mum and I were sitting in the café in Melbourne museum, waiting for our orders to arrive. It was a weekend day, one that should be fun, but wasn't. 
I remember 3 things about that trip to the café: 

  1. ​There was a jet-black pigeon inside. It was so dark, that I thought it's eyes were pure white until it flew down from it's perch to rest on the ground near me and I could see it properly. To...

Pandemic Memoir

Wishing stuff.

Wishing. Hoping. If'nly. ICould. Write. Novels.

December Grab Bag

Time Travelers (read footnotes (after you read it though))

Write about a character’s first day of work at an unusual job.

I guess I'm writing my own prompt now because no-one else has done it yet. 

Wed 2/12/2020
Today I finally learnt something I have been dying to learn for six and a half years. It's not every day you get an opportunity to be a time-traveler and find out what strange thing disrupted time and space in 2020. Especially if that means traveling 208 (according to my calculations?) years in the future. 
The time travelers arrived at our house in Bath, telling me I was the best person for the job of working out what the hell kind of thing happened in 2020. Cassandra was a little dubious about the whole thing, but I'm home safe and sound now, so it's okay. 
I had to be taught to write like a person from 2020, not from when I'm from. It took a while to learn, but we had...

December Grab Bag

Time Travelers (read footnotes (after you read it though))

Write about a character’s first day of work at an unusual job.

I guess I'm writing my own prompt now because no-one else has done it yet. 

Wed 2/12/2020
Today I finally learnt something I have been dying to learn for six and a half years. It's not every day you get an opportunity to be a time-traveler and find out what strange thing disrupted time and space in 2020. Especially if that means traveling 2008 (according to my calculations?) years in the future. 
The time travelers arrived at our house in Bath, telling me I was the best person for the job of working out what the hell kind of thing happened in 2020. Cassandra was a little dubious about the whole thing, but I'm home safe and sound now, so it's okay. 
I had to be taught to write like a person from 2020, not from when I'm from. It took a while to learn, but we had...

Amanda-Rose At Alpine Lodge: Prologue

Agnes Carpenter dreamed of oranges. But as the dream progressed, the oranges turned into toasted marshmallows, which then turned into an inferno.                                                              
    The old woman awoke, sitting bolt upright in the hotel bed. Agnes’ thoughts turned to her grandsons -and if she would ever see them again- as she became aware of the gravity of this situation.                                                             
    Smoke was seeping under the locked door of the room. A few flames had begun to lick at the ornate rug that spanned the wooden floor. It was late afternoon, just hours after Agnes had arrived at Alpine Lodge.                                     
    “This is not how I die,” the wizened woman muttered, tucking a strand of wiry...

My Dearest Indigo

My dearest Indigo, 
I hope this letter finds you well, and that your husband is treating you so. 
Here in London, things are not going as one would hope. Do not worry too much over it however, as I have most of the rabbits in the house under control. 
This is an apology, for all the things I said. I did not mean them, they were whirled out of my mouth without desire, as anger took over me. I hope that you can forgive me, and we can possibly one day be what we were before. 
In my haste, I left my quills and ink in Edenborough with you. You can keep them, as a reminder of what an ungrateful and manipulative person I was to you, and that I am truly sorry. 

Amber Cullivan 

As I turn the letter over in my hands, wondering if this time she's really changed, as strong gust of wind shakes the shutters. Maybe...


In every child's mind there is something connecting them to dreams. In children the world over, this phenomenon is present and correct, dying out only as humans reach adolescence. And then there are the missing children, the ones who choose following that dream element over their own lives. The children who fade away into fog, or follow the butterflies over the mountain valley and into something beyond - what, no-one knows. 
    I was once one of those children. Living and loving, but free as the currents that carry tumble-glass across the ocean. I was Indigo Reynolds. 
    The dream element is indescribable, something only children can really see. It pulls at their hearts, manipulating their wish to be a part of something, showing them that the ocean is unfathomable, and that death and life are as mingled at the sand on the sea-floor and the salt-water that sooths their raging spirits. 
    Sometimes, when special things...

What I Wrote In Writers' Group

Welcome to the wild playground, where we tame bulls, and drink the juice of wild cacti. The wind blows sand in my eyes, Mia's coarse hair is tousled. 
    "Howdy, podners. In these wild parts of the playground, we roam the west and tame wild horses," Mia pushes me into the sand, rolling her eyes, the colour of a black-bird's wing. 
    "All I said was that the crows are not the same shape as bulls!" I retort. 
    We tame the wild ravens, chase rabbits over the hill as the sun sets. Mia's skin turns bronze in the setting sun, a chill passing through us as day turns to night. 
    The monkey-puzzles on the edge of the park jostle together in the breeze. 
    And so, that night, we walk over the hill in the wild-west playground. And never come back.

Assorted Poems

I once knew a girl from Christchurch 
She owned lots of Baby Yoda merch 
She was a great skater; the master of ice
And did circus and sat on a perch

I once new a boy from Hobart 
He was very terrible at art 
He'd never heard of et tu
Making Shakespeare blue
And a kayak he would cart 

I met a girl named Aislinn 
She did lots of art and would grin 
Ash obsessed over dragons
And owned all of four cats 
And mean people she would take it on the chin


The Bench

The bench has been there for all of six years, but it's story is rich and fascinating. We'll begin with the tale of how Oskar Milford once lost something very important. It all started when Oskar was in his faze of trying to be a cool person, like the ones in books. This was the first year that the bench was there, you see, and Oskar was the first to sit on it. 
    "Ugh, it must be here somewhere!" Oskar's friend Emily cried. When the pair had gone to sit at the bench, Oskar had been walking ahead, taking a seat before anyone else in the world. 
    "Maybe someone stole it . . ." Oskar was ever the dramatic child, he would come up with some ludicrous idea, the sensible presence of Emily would revise it, then they would do whatever it was that Oskar schemed. 
    "Okay," Emily began matter-of-factly. "No-one wants to...

The Calm Before The Storm

The heat of the Australian sun beats down on my back, though the clouds are dark and stormy. It's that summer-storm kind of whether, where the sky looks like the underworld, and the heat is almost unbearable. It's my favorite kind of whether. 
    "Taylor!" Mary's voice is swept to me on the wind, from her perch on the hay-bale on the other side of Oreo's paddock. "C'mere, Tays." 
     I turn to face her. Her curly black hair is a tangled mess from the strong wind, as I imagine mine must be. "What are you doing?" she asks me, jumping off the hay. 
    I smile, rubbing dust from my eyes. "I'm going to see if it's still there." Mary nods, understanding my meaning. 
    "Okay, can I come with you?"
    I take a deep breath, breathing in the heat and smell of an impending storm. "Yeah, okay."
    Running across the...

The Calm Before The Storm

The heat of the Australian sun beats down on my back, though the clouds are dark and stormy. It's that summer-storm kind of whether, where the sky looks like the underworld, and the heat is almost unbearable. It's my favorite kind of whether. 
    "Taylor!" Mary's voice is swept to me on the wind, from her perch on the hay-bale on the other side of Oreo's paddock. "C'mere, Tays." 
     I turn to face her. Her curly black hair is a tangled mess from the strong wind, as I imagine mine must be. "What are you doing?" she asks me, jumping off the hay. 
    I smile, rubbing dust from my eyes. "I'm going to see if it's still there." Mary nods, understanding my meaning. 
    "Okay, can I come with you?"
    I take a deep breath, breathing in the heat and smell of an impending storm. "Yeah, okay."
    Running across the...

The Cave

Walking into the chamber my heart races like I've just finished running a marathon, though I'm walking quite slowly; as you would in the face of inevitable death. But this is the only way to save Angelica.
    The air smells old, and strangely enough, like . . . cherries? Yes, the sweet smell of red cherries. It's strange, being in an underground cave, walking into a chamber with oak doors, and then smelling cherries. 
    I continue deeper into the chamber. It's walls are covered in human teeth. Some are fractured, some perfect white corn kernels, definitely from children. 
    I take a shaky breath as I near the end of this corridor, towards what can only be the stuff of legends. But, if truly no-one ever survives the queen's wrath, where do the legends come from? I must be foolish to consider the possibility of survival as plausible, or maybe I'm just deluded from hunger...

November Grab Bag


The undeniable truth around the paths 
The ones that eucalyptus takes over
The purplish silver of shadows duly cast 
On the ground the lovely dandelions and clover

And from the shadows, untamed ravens watch 
Their eyes as dark as night and ruined minds
And the eucalyptus flowers, a scarlet splotch 
But little of this southern desert truly defines
The creatures lurking in our stolen minds

From the long grass a serpent watches
It's glistening eyes are never blinking 
The sandy earth is owned by little crosses
In the muddy swamp a branch is slowly sinking

The beauty of the stolen lands and grasses
The golden light on the trees and in the sky
And when the sun sinks over the earth into Apollo's casket
All mortals and ravens know is a world of lies
And all the crawling mortals hate for us we despise 

Now the lonely night is sinking slow and deep
The ravens are cawing their woeful song  ...


My words won't stop when I'm around you
Roses; how to grow geraniums; dead bodies; 
I just don't stop talking
But now, as I sit alone
I stop talking and hear my words 
Tumble out
And I realize that you make me happier than anyone
In the world
But you'll never know
So I sit here, with you
As we talk about pressed flowers
And make jokes
And you look at me for just a second
With your olive-green eyes
And we both smile
And I keep talking
Because around you my mind goes twice the speed
And when our hands brush my heart goes twice the speed
And everyone else around doesn't matter
And the people I fight with don't matter
Because I might slightly love you

-Your not-so-secret-admirer 

Raphael and Maya

Raphael screamed with all his heart. It felt like choking, unable to breath, yet unable to stop the flow of screams. He knew she was gone, the girl he had given all his love to, and more than that, he knew it was all her fault. The way she'd smiled the first time they had met, Raphael, is it? We will be great friends, I think. Now, she was gone. She hadn't even looked back as she stormed out into the rain, away from Stormdale, away from Raphael. The girl had been right, they had been great friends. But at what cost? Raphael's breath was short, his amber eyes were red from crying. He felt helpless, he would surely die here, alone by the river. He tried not to scream, to hold it in so people wouldn't find him. He gulped, his chest felt broken, his throat was sore from crying. It hurt more than anything else, that the girl...

The Strange Wants Of Us

I feel it a strange pleasure; the want to meet with someone who disagrees with your existence. And yet I so keenly seek out the cruelty, for perhaps it does make our pain feel more valid.

On Track To France

Eighteen-year-old January Humphries was sick of life in St Mewump. It was a nice village, the people were friendly, the old stone walls and sprawling fields were charming. But there was something about it that bored her half to death, it wasn't something about St Mewump exactly, but it was something that wasn't there. January longed for distant coastlines and dark allies. She wanted to know of the world outside, of the big cities and of the towns at the bases of mountains. The German had a word for it, fernweh, unlike the people of St Mewump. St Mewumpians were the picture of English small-town stereo-types. They liked to stay put. Travel was simply never on the agenda for St Mewumpians. In January's opinion, they just liked sitting around eating sponge-cake and drinking tea.
    "Good mornin' Miss Humphries," the postman Gregory Thatch said, tipping his flat cap at her as he sped past on his bicycle. Gregory Thatch...


"Seeking validation does not make you a selfish showoff - it makes you human."

My Quotes

"I forgot I had a life other than seeing people at co-op and wishing I could play the saxophone"
   - Me, a few minutes ago

Back Then

I miss the days when we could see each-other. I miss our friendly debated conversations on the intricacies of Percy Jackson. I miss the way we would make leaf piles in the autumn, and how we would sit on the bench. The bench was always a place of great amusement for us, how we could simply sit there talking about the most interesting things, and we would while away hours. The bench had a surprise, something that -the first time we ventured onto it's quite-possibly-rotting wood- was rather shocking. The fact that the bench wobbles back and forth then became rather amusing, and something we would make the best of, even making it an honorary roller-coaster. And I miss the way you would run to greet me when I arrived at the hall, how you would squeal my name, as if the mere fact that I had arrived there at all was something surprising. I would sit down, and you...

My Epic Monologue

How we mortals toy with our peers; to be loved by someone can only be the best of all the unattainable, but if one should hate another and they're feeling not mutual . . . the best one can hope for is to forgive. But when one, such as I, cannot forgive, what now? you may ask. You must cut the strings attaching you, you must break the barrier and admit that it will never be enough to be cared about, that someone must truly care about how you feel in order to love you. When the mortals of hate refuse to forgive, despite what they may preach, you must leave them. Bored a ship and sail to a far-off land, or simply cut the out, refuse contact, until they understand the gravity of this. When all these civilians do is tell you change yourself you must leave at dawn. But what if they refuse to leave you? you may...

Her Smirks

I still remember the smile in her voice 
I can recall her twisted tone 
Her jibes and teases, corrupt ploys 
A moral path of cobblestone
When she said the breaking thing 
The straw with I the camel 
She only intended on following 
Those to whom I don't hold a candle 
She believed herself righteous
That was in the wrong 
And as she want to guide us 
We have to follow along 
I still remember how she paused 
The longest silence still 
And for her hate - others applaud 
And my confidence she kill 
If I must show respect and grace 
For this religion she bears 
How come she smirks at my person's face? 
That I do hold so dear 
How come she smiles while calling me? 
The words of hatred past 
And still she jibes, lest I be free 
So this "religion" lasts 
If these she claims "are just beliefs" 
Then I do earn some to 

Haiku (and review for review)

On our street's a dog 
He barks in perfect haikus 
He is Haiku Dog 

Why Do You Even Abject?

This is about pride or something. 
I have a desperate question; why would people abject to who someone loves? I also have an answer to a different question, "Why shouldn't they abject if it's just their beliefs?" Well, The answer is simple. 1. There are so many studies that show that people's sexuality is ingrained from birth. 2. It's none of your business who someone does, or doesn't love. And 3. If you don't want me to disrespect you for your hair colour, or how tall you are, then don't disrespect me for who I love. And still, you'd be annoyed if I constantly said I didn't like your religion, or said your Email address offended me because it mentioned it. It's no different - actually, it is. Because religion is more of a choice than sexuality. So this is why I don't like it when people say "Just don't mention it around me - because I don't like...

Be-You Can't Say that -Nt

    Just a four letter word 
But with so much hurt 
    Kept in a single word 
        And when you use it 
I can't 
    Help but
        Be torn 
        The meaning 
Can't use 
                    It's not 
                            Okay for 
                                You to say
If I said 
    About how you are 
        Or what you believe 
You would 
            You would 
                Hate me
But you 
Don't care 
            You use 
                    It for 

You Tear Me Down

You break me to pieces 
    When you make promises 
    You can't keep to 
            And you tear me down 
    I'm bent 
You can't do this anymore 
    You use your so-called "beliefs" 
        Against your own kind 
But I'm not 
    Am I?
        I'm not what you believe 
            I'm the "wrong kind" 
    And yet 
             Still you 
                Claim to be
                    My best friend 
    And yet
            Still you 
                Tear me down 
        Down to the red 


Olivia-Jess Wilson, 14, Invercargill

  1. A book titled Shakespeare's Sonnets and Other Poems
  2. Two tee-shirts 
  3. Overalls 
  4. Suspenders 
  5. Woolen trousers 
  6. A toothbrush and toothpaste 
  7. On the Origin of the Species by Charles Darwin 
  8. A book about tracing Scottish ancestry 
  9. A packet of boiled sweets 
  10. A gloss-printed photo, showing a small girl with brown hair holding a stuffed toy bunny, next to an elderly man with snow-white hair and scars on his face and a young couple, one with brown hair the other with ginger. The photo is taken in-front of a convenience store with a willow tree in the background. There is also a small rip in the right side of the photo, at the edge of the elderly man's overalls. 

The Problem With Some

The problem, I think 
Is that some people . . . 
Not everyone 
Put the cross before the steeple 
When they say they are just opinions 
That they choose to share with all 
They really don't understand 
That we're not opinions 
And just think we should take the fall 
They don't understand this; 
We've always been this way
We don't just make it our everything 
We choose to let it stay
And when they put the wrong things first 
We will all topple over 
Because we don't just "go on about it all the time"
Because that we're not allowed to makes it sombre 
Because if one goes on about their religion 
How is it any different?
The fact we aren't allowed to 
Just shows 
They are the ones who are belligerent 

The Religion

The day that brought the end 
Hard as I try, I cannot mend 
The words that started a lie 
And to sleep I will cry 
Her twisted tongues of poison 
Must not repent "for religion" 
And as she says "her preferences" 
Ignore, lest thy see my references 
The way her eyes glance down 
As she would have what I really think drown 
The way she she denies me peace 
Yet her religion still released 
Her thoughts must triumph - over all 
Over this greatness, must we brawl 
And as she is still the better 
Yet I change a single letter 
A Y for an I 
Surely shan't miss thy 
Yet still she feigns surprise  
Shall not she meet my eyes 
"Change you name or I shan't speak"
If I must change so much, 'tis bleak 
For if I change who I was born 
My very self 'tis all forlorn 
Religion is not fixt 
But of relent and anger...

The Beginning of September

My world is frozen 
In an eternal winter
My angels dozing 
My friendships splintered 

When those I thought 
Could be trusted with life 
Now conversing fraught 
Their fickle words start strife 

These people of land 
These demons of night 
Our uttered words planned
I banish torn fright 

Now forlorn do I whimper 
In betrayal of trust 
Their smiles only were simpers 
Now our bond covered in rust 

Her words I remember 
But how she would try 
To say my beginning to September 
Would be naught but a lie 

Her twisted tongue
Her words meant to play 
For church-bells rung 
At the end of the day . . . 

Her word I still remember 
Though doubtful she be
As the beginning of September 
'Twas beginning the end of me

When she said what she thought 
Like it wouldn't lose a life 
Her words cut though air fraught 
A rusted, sharpened, knife 

So in tartan skirts I morn 
For what I thought...

We Miss You, Sport!


By this point I've made extremely hurtful arguments with my closest friends into a sport. 
    I will start by telling you this; I don/'t follow sports. It's just not my thing. I don't watch rugby, I'm not tuned in to the Tour De France, watching it between lecturing my geology students, the way my dad is. And I don't know the names of all the best tennis players in the world. But I do enjoy sports. 
    When I was six or seven I played netball. I remember going to the club-rooms after playing a game of it, getting sweets and a whole large can of Fanta -which was a rare thing for a young child-, and spending a voucher for subway -that I'd earned for being the hardest trier in one of my lessons- afterwards. We never went to Subway when I was a little kid, so it was a special occasion to spend one of...

“Heaven of Freedom”

The Bitter Truth

Hiding from something; 
When those I trust turn against me; 
A feeling of pulling; 
Pulling me away from their "beliefs

When the world I know is ending; 
My friends berated me for being;
The elephant in the room impending; 
And leaving this behind is too freeing

They use their wretched lies; 
They claim that I overstep;
To lead to our friendship's demise; 
For useless arguments they prep 
And the worst of it; 
These are people I trusted; 
Ruthless punishment they permit; 
Our friendship broken and rusted

Repaired, unlikely will we be; 
Now I know their truth; 
They use their lies to punish me;
Now wallow I, in despair and ruth 

For when you know a person really; 
The end can be only all too dreary 

This is an attempt at a historical Lesbian love letter. I don't even know where to start with this kind of thing.

Dearest Emily, 
                I saw you in the rain, as you ran from a misty memory. We may be forgotten, but will be remembered as one; the suffragettes. Emily, I ponder on your query but am yet to come upon a fitting answer, 'tis pity that we both are expected to succumb as we wives and young ladies should. I have yet to marry the duke, but on the day to come when it must be; I will only be thinking of you. Please, oh - sweet Emily, I morn that the summer of our love is long passed now. Otherwhiles I contemplate on running, but where to? Where to run when none seem to hold the key to somewhere we can be? Where to run when running is doubtful, and at best shall leave you banishing thoughts of those you seek to abandon?
            Until another day, month or year, 

It's Going To The Red Planet . . . Hopefully

I watch the launch for a rocket 
Four minutes till launch 
The white smoke comes from the rocket 
People talk, saying about all the safety checks 
My parents talk about how the helicopter is folded up
Only three minutes till launch 
Will the bits come back for use, my Mum asks
Two minutes till launch 
The countdown is beginning 
It is light where the launch is, but where I am it's dark
Not long now
One minute till launch 
Imagine if it go's rouge, my parents say
Status check 
The proper countdown 
The cloud is massive
It's going to the red planet 

A Foreign Species

When I'm among Australian school kids, I am like a foreign species.
I, the artsy one.
I, the one who's never been to school.
I, the one who lived through the trembling earth, and learned about stories of it being a dragon. 
I, am a foreigner. 
The questions and comments flow like quicksand; Do you have any friends? What's New Zealand like? But how do you socialize? You're so good, I can't even draw a stick figure. So, you just do whatever you want all day? And on one occasion, I'm not sure where they got this idea, Do you have a pool, and just hang out in it all day?
But not everything they say is good; countless times, I've had people, old and young, ask how I have friends, or what it's like staying at home all the time. 
Being a Kiwi, homeschooled, artist, with Irish ancestors, is something that spurs on millions of questions from adults and...

White Noise Of Criticism

Sometimes people want to much of me
The names and faces, swirling, telling me to do better
Sometimes the white noise of all the criticism, telling me what to do better, rather than seeing how far I've come, is excruciating. 
Sometimes they don't notice how I've grown, the only notice my mistakes 
The words of what I need to change, swirling in a hurricane of hate
Oh, how I need the praise, how I wish it would equal all the tellings off 
It's not that good - that doesn't make sense - your hair is to messy - your not old enough - you need to improve on that- 
They don't notice that I'm trying 
Everyone is trying 
And so many people just criticize us
All the people
If they can draw, the are doing better than they used to 
If they can sing, they know the words 
If the can read a children's book, but don't want to read ...

The hollow tree

Three little girls
Younger than ten
With chocolate brown curls
Went camping, and then
They played on the swings 
And they saw all the sights 
For children have wings 
Childish delights 

These little girls 
Went fairy watching 
Notes written on stones 
They played with mood rings 
One day the oldest 
Of somewhere near eight 
The absolute boldest 
Left out fairy bait 

The children, they waited 
But they couldn't watch 
They had to return to their tents 
And the fairies came out 
Regards were sent 
From the fairies at hand 
For the very next morning 
When they went to check the tree
The new day was dawning 
Girls excited were three

Where before was a biscuit
Now there were none 
The fairies had taken it
The experiment done  
And the hollow in the tree 
Was still a mystery 
It would remain so forever 
To those girls three
And back they went never 
To that hollow tree

The Moralistic Grim Reaper

An ancient world, we still hold tight to it's ties
People - they praise the ancient ways
And they try, not to let it ebb and flow with time
But to meld the torture of the past into our very being
At last, some of these ancient constitutions lay to rest
Yet still, they block their eyes from seeing 
Some say the best we can do is try our best
But to others that's an excuse for being nettlesome 

Hateful, horrendous, smothering words
Their meaning embedded in the killings of the past
These are not just words as some have said 
This combination of letters; still, it's torture lasts 
They use things with meaning 
But change all that it is faithful to
And these ones sit on their laurels preening 
Saying they only only want to help you

Everything that is said and done
Without looking deeper 
They ensnare innocents in guilt 
The moralistic grim reaper 
Drowning people in honey  ...

Rebel Against Those Who Fancy Themselves Kings

How I yearn for things, the past it holds them
Sappho's life, it appeals to me
The island of Lesbos; how it could control them
The ones, the unbelievers; we'd be free
One cannot stop the love of Aphrodite 
We should accept it, rather than those who try
They try to reverse it, this becomes a burden 
Under our silent, southern sky

Aphrodite makes our choices for us
We, the mortals, we have no control 
But some, those fools try to reverse it
Mortals should know; we cannot change our roles 
Some - those fools - they abhor
They understand not that we lack a choice
They understand not that we wouldn't change
Those fools; at this they coil 
So, as society tries to change
Some, to change us they still toil

Aphrodite to me makes her appearance
She whispers, to the mind inside my soul
Her words; they draw me near
Rebel against those, who fancy themselves kings 

Letter Writing Competition 2020

Read, Read, Write

Dear a child who loves reading,
Reading is a way of life, it is an escape route when things are too hard to bear. The fact that you love reading is a great thing, it is handy to always have a good book at hand.
I hope that one day you will pack a book into your backpack, and that the name on the cover will be mine. I hope to inspire people like you.
How has your life been recently? I hope you have plenty of reading material right now - so you can travel to Antarctica on a scientific research boat, or you can join a society of rebel poets, or you can fly a plane to the Amazon to save endangered animals from smugglers. 
Whatever you are doing right now, I hope to inspire you, to be the amazing author that you look up to. Like so many others were for me. One day, books in the...

Who Would Read This?

Who would read this?           
Who would read a romance set in part of rural Invercargill in New Zealand? Who would read a story about to kids who fall in love after one moves to the town where the other already lives? Would you read a book where one of the character's parents own the town general store? Would you read a romance, where the characters meet in secret in the hidden courtyard behind the dairy where grass grows through the gravel? Would you read this teenage romance? 
Comment any ideas you have for the story.

Dear Young Readers

Dear a child who loves reading,
Reading is a way of life, it is an escape route when things are too hard to bear. The fact that you love reading is a great thing, it is handy to always have a good book at hand.
I hope that one day you will pack a book into your backpack, and that the name on the cover will be mine. I hope to inspire people like you.
How has your life been recently? I hope you have plenty of reading material right now - so you can travel to Antarctica on a scientific research boat, or you can join a society of rebel poets, or you can fly a plain to the Amazon to save endangered animals from smugglers. 
Whatever you are doing right now, I hope to inspire you, to be the amazing author that you look up to. Like so many others were for me. One day, books in the...

The Haunting Of Cole's Bay Beach #Varmebolger

One time in Tasmania 
We were hanging around our camp
When someone spotted something 
And we went to get a lamp

From out of the tent we came
Clad in cloths but nil shoes 
But whatever they saw did not remain
So here we were alone

Flashing torches was the claim
Of what was seen that night 
But who were we to blame
If we ran away in fright 

In the kitchen we were to make popcorn 
To calm our raging nerves 
But it felt like a murder mystery 
So from the window we observed 

At least the others; they observed 
My back was to the window 
Then they all screamed 
And I expected, a hunter with a bow

Upon when I turned I did not scream
For they were all too jittery 
Once we were calmed down 
It turned out to be
A camper, with a torch 

From earlier that evening 
The others, they were terrified 
Thomas claimed that...

So Irish

Driving down narrow
Country lanes in Ireland 
So tiny, many are harrowed 
In the fading dusk
It feels like home, but shoots one arrow 
At my already saddened heart 

Mostly I feel joy
As down dusk-bathed lanes we drive
The rabbits act coy
As we approach our destination 
This place is so exciting, my sadness is destroyed 

Everything is so Irish 
It makes many of us grin 
But the long drive leaves us peckish
So we let ourselves in

Everything is so Irish
It brings great happiness 
Everything is so Irish
All melancholy is dismissed  

Excitement is in the air
In this little cottage in for a week we live
Outside somewhere is a foxes lair
Everything is so Irish
Like home; not where we live

The Morning Time

A wheelbarrow full of weeds, every day the peach blossom buds grow more obvious. In the morning the only sound is the creaking of the old house and the ticking of the clock, the occasional bark of a dog from somewhere in the distance. I can smell the lavender in my shirt pocket, that I picked yesterday, it's smell is both sweet and bitter, but in a nice sharp way. Under my feet the rug is soft, nothing like the pain of walking around all of yesterday in boots. Birds chirp and tweet outside, quiet, but in the morning that is enough. As I go to let Tilly outdoors, so she can roam her garden with pleasure- sniffing around the Irises to make sure no-one has done anything to them- I feel the crisp morning ear, cold enough that it feels thick, in the way fog does, not like normal, warm air. The plants in the garden are nothing less...

The Morning Time

A wheelbarrow full of weeds, every day the peach blossom buds grow more obvious. In the morning the only sound is the creaking of the old house and the ticking of the clock, the occasional bark of a dog from somewhere in the distance. I can smell the lavender in my shirt pocket, that I picked yesterday, it's smell is both sweet and bitter, but in a nice sharp way. Under my feet the rug is soft, nothing like the pain of walking around all day in boots. Birds chirp and tweet outside, quiet, but in the morning that is enough. As I go to let Tilly outdoors, so she can roam her garden with pleasure, I feel the crisp morning ear, cold enough that it feels thick, in the way fog does, not like normal, warm air. The plants in the garden are nothing less of beautiful, as the fluffy morning clouds skim over, unsure if they want to...

Winter Garden

Spider-webs stretch across the window, long free of any actual spiders. The frosty garden framed by cobwebs in the morning winter sun. A dove walks, or more . . . dances across the lawn, it's feathers puffed up, like the ruffled neck of a middle-ages gentleman's clothes, trying to keep warm in the cold. She coos to no-one in particular, waddling past the parsley. The peach-tree's bare branches are wintry and chilling, but the thought of it's soon-to-be blossoms is enough to make anyone adore it, besides; it is rather beautiful. The little cubby-house with it's wooden paneling and iron lion-head-knocker on the door, has not been used in quite a while - for fear of spiders you see. But it looks as if it belongs there, like an abandoned house on a property that would be quite lost without it. Rosemary grows to the height of a child, it's pot very much not controling it's size.

The Morning Frost

I just saw frost on the ground for the first time in four years. Like all short, sweet things; the frost will be gone by eleven o'clock. It having successfully toyed with, and chilled the grass, it will disappear into the growing sunshine. 

A Dark Past

Bats screeching in the trees 
Children running through the gardens 
A perfect mansion, aimed to please

We walk under trees 
With massive pine-cones 
Little children, about lake-monsters we teaze  

I love the way the gardens feel
Despite it's past
It's beauty's real

But underneath 
Is something dark
A sword is sheathed 

And in the past
There was torture 
This history lasts

There was hate 
Beyond repair 
People enslaved 

I hate that this history 
Even exists 
They claimed it was victory 

But it's still a garden
Where beauty does grow
Though my thoughts harden

So even though this was a crime
They were hateful and cruel 
We have to except it; things will change this time


Death smells of bathroom candles. She glides toward me, whispering to me, calling my name. Her sent is fresh, but not in a nice way, like a combination of fabric softener and sink cleaner. There is a buzz, it hurts your form, more of a vibration than a sound, like that of an old car, the kind that makes your body shake. Death's face is pale, her eyes are beautiful lavender-blue, her nose tilts up, but is slim. She approaches, her jaw set and her eyes wide in an unnerving way. 
    "Say goodbye to your loved ones. You are coming with me now," Death says, in a ghostly voice. Her voice is floaty; soft edged and childlike. 
    As Death approaches me, June jumps forward. 
    "No! Take me instead!" She stands in-front of me, not budging despite Deaths advances. She seems so much more solid than Death, so much more human. 
    "If you...

Why We Need Pride #Proud

Pride. This word has been seen as the good, the bad, and the ugly for so long. Now it's time to take back our pride. People in the LGBT+ community have been hurt or even killed for it, so many people have died for it; it's time we started living for it. I have only once experienced first hand homophobia, it was from someone I thought was my friend. Lets call the person Jane. Jane was a friend of ours, my sister wanted to show her some fan-art that she did of a Harry Potter ship, because they were both hard-core Potter-heads. The fan-art was of a gay ship, my sister showed it to Jane, and she said; 'we don't approve of that sort of thing'. It was barely anything, just a rejection of one drawing, but it was because the drawing featured an LGBT+ couple, and to me that felt like a stab in the heart. To make...

Daisy-Chains And Dead Roses #Dramatize

People pass me without a glance, not seeing a little girl standing under the willow tree. I have came here every day for a year, and not once has a person payed the slightest bit of attention to me. They walk past every day, and I sit here mourning the loss of my best friend, making daisy-chains to lay on her grave. Only eleven, and I no-longer have anyone to turn to. My days are spent singing and thinking of her, of the girl who was taken too young, only ten. Death is a bitter, bitter visitor; She comes, bringing her sickly sweet perfume of dead roses and slightly-over-ripe mandarins, and she takes everything I hold most dear. So here I sit, singing to the dead girl, who's life was taken by Death, and feeling the regretable sting of guilt that she didn't take me instead.

Revenge #Dramatize

Fifteen years. Fifteen long, lonely years I awaited you. And now . . . as you stand before me, you quiver my young Robin. You quiver in fear of what lays ahead, in fear of me! Step forward, my child. How I have grown in these past fifteen years, how I have improved. But even before I became what I am today . . . I had the ambition to do great things, or terrible things if I was guided wrong. But now I know that these things; the ones which I intend to do, once I have power over the ones who once controlled me, are not so terrible after all, for after all; the end justifies the means. And so, as you quiver before me - you remind myself of me when all of this began. I was simply a vengeful child in the beginning, but now . . . as the climax of this battle nears; I...

We Don't Owe Anyone Our Hearts

Darling, darling; we aren't grown-up yet
Flirting, itis not a marriage proposal; it is a game
We donot have to be in love, for feelings to exist 
So even if thy doesn't, to flirt I shall persist 
Oh to be young, to try to love, to fail
Oh to tell something sweet; not a sorry tail 
The stories of the past - so gruesome and grim 
Who would really be Juliet? And die onstage as the lights dim
We can enjoy something, thatis not a tragedy
We can see what love is, something between true love and apathy
    So remember we're young, we don't have to be torn apart 
    We can still like each-other; we don't owe anyone our hearts 

Darling, Darling

Oh the sting of love unrequited; the sting thy left me feeling
When thine flaxen hair is tousled, only slightly from the breeze 
Oh darling, darling; such a term of endearment
The way when thy laughs, thine laugh is filled with ease 
Thy doest not hath't to be any-ones queen, but how I'd love if thy'd love me
So love me darling, sooth my racing heart by saying; yes I'll be your queen
And once thine queen-ship is complete; marry me and say my sweet 
    Thy is the most beautiful, thy's absolute; and though beauty isn't everything,
    Thy's rich with it; inside and out, not the kind from a tomb which one can loot

One Dead

One dead; some still alive
One lost; without we cannot thrive 
One married off to a man of great pedigree 
To them she's gone, I'm sure they'd all agree
One still stands; without a care, for what they've lost, beyond repair 
One prefers solitude, even in the mild summer - of July and June
And finally . . . one's only remembered - by a merry tune

Our Foolishness

If thou do not adore me, does not birth my infirmity
For I still cannot have thee, but still I own prosperity 
So without thee I'll flourish, and without thee I shall die
For thou'll never love me; it'd be a foolish thing to try 
And though my feelings make us fools, in every single tense,
I still enjoys time with thee, so let foolishness commence 
    Our foolish youngness; without a care, is still more thine than mine
    In a wooden hall we paint our lives, under the clouded winter sky

Our Foolishness

If thou do not adore me, does not birth thy infirmity
For thy still cannot have thee, but still I own prosperity 
So without thee I'll flourish, and without thee I shall die
For thou'll never love me; it'd be a foolish thing to try 
And though thy's feeling make us fools, in every single tense,
Thy still enjoys time with thee, so let foolishness commence 
    Our foolish youngness; without a care, is still more thou's than thy's
    In a wooden hall we paint our lives, under the clouded winter sky

Roses And Naan Bread #myrose

The first rose on my desk was kind of cute. By the fifteenth it was getting kind of weird.
    As a fourteen year-old nerd, I never thought I would get a date, let alone a secret admirer. I shouldn't be that surprised really, I've been asked out a couple of times, but it always happens to be someone I cannot stand. I just want my Newton Pulsifer from Good Omens. Is that to much to ask? Or maybe Mr Darcy . . .
    Anyway, today there was another rose and love note on my desk. They are always typed out, probably so I don't recognize the hand'writing, and this one is no exception. It reads:
    Dear Jay, 
    Shall I compare thee to a summers day?

    Very funny, My secret admirer put a Shakespeare quote on it this time, this is getting weirder by the minute. 
    "Hey, another note from Mr very...

Wombat Forest

Their house is wooden
It's veranda warmed 
By the morning light 
The bush creatures torn
To stay or take flight 
In this forest they call bush
The eucalyptus trees
Where kookaburras laugh 
At tilly's pleas 
To see the forest 
Not just some trees 
Like the old red plum
We sit under; at ease
Sit at the picnic table
Covered in moss
And in the crisp morning air 
I sketch something 
Not very well done
But who'm I to care 
The smell of freshly baked bread 
Carries on morning air
And inside we troop 
For bread by the fire
So come the kangaroos 
Outside the window
As soon a we're gone 
They're laughing at us
Of this I am sure
But now we can't go back there
Not any more
For the danger it places
Is much, much to high
So we can only remember 
And sigh a sad sigh

Awake Before Dawn

Uhtceare, this is me
I never woke at dawn before
But now, in sadness and in hope
I start to wake up before dawn more
It's a habit really
One which I try to resist 
But sleep won't come
So I persist 
I cannot sleep with grace and peace 
My mind won't stop
I know not how some do it with ease
I lye awake before dawn 
Thinking about God knows what
I lye awake before dawn
Mustering all the patience I've got
So as the sun rises 
And light gleams in my window 
I lye there, trying to sleep 
As the small birds start to peep 

Chapter One: The Boots

The boots have been sitting in the same place for a very long time. I always wondered about those boots, sitting in the shoe-box, no reason to be there, I don't even know who they belong to. They have been there since last year, they just appeared one day, and no-one knows where they came from.
    The boots are battered, made of old, brown leather. with old twine laces, and worn rubber souls. As I live alone, by the woods, many people in my position would be scared. All by myself with a stranger lurking around, possibly a ghost or spirit, with material shoes. But me, I'm not scared, whatever left the boots there is friendly, I just know it. It must be, for nothing bad has happened in the time since the boots appeared.
      My Girlfriend lives on the other side of Ginger-Nut Woods, in a little town. She visits me often, both of us just last year...

Birthday Surprises For #Mysecondcontest

The plan was to surprise my auntie by showing up in her conservatory on her birthday. I live in Australia, but I am from Christchurch New Zealand. Having lived in Melbourne for nearly a year, my sister and I missed our hometown very much. It was nearly my aunties birthday, and Mum had hatched a plan. We were to fly to New Zealand by plane, stay one night at a friends place in the country, and the next day was Auntie Carmen's birthday, so we would drive to her and my cousin's house, and surprise the whole family. 
    The plain trip was the normal boring and passed quite quickly. At the airport the normal announcement rang out: Please do not let your children play on the escalators. It is a recording of a very exasperated sounding woman, which sounds more like she means: You are so annoying, letting your children play on the escalators.
     so there we were,...

Birthday Surprises For #Mysecondcontest

The plan was to surprise my auntie by showing up in her conservatory on her birthday. I live in Australia, but I am from Christchurch New Zealand. Having lived in Melbourne for nearly a year, my sister and I missed our hometown very much. It was nearly my aunties birthday, and Mum had hatched a plan. We were to fly to New Zealand by plane, stay one night at a friends place in the country, and the next day was Auntie Carmen's birthday, so we would drive to her and my cousin's house, and surprise the whole family. 
    The plain trip was the normal boring and passed quite quickly. At the airport the normal announcement rang out: Please do not let your children play on the escalators. It is a recording of a very exasperated sounding woman, which sounds more like she means: You are so annoying, letting your children play on the escalators.
     so there we were,...

Review For Review

Review for review. You give me a review, comment when it's done, and I'll give you a review too. Just something to do in semi-lock-down

My Piece For Competition #Proud

It was while everyone was hanging around before history class that it happened, I always thought that it would take me forever to find a girlfriend. It seems like all nice girls are straight.
    "Hey, Cass," Jackie says, sidling up to me with her uncanny confidence. "I was just wondering if you wanted to go to a cafe in the mall with me?"
    I panic, not knowing if she means as a date or what, "Sure, I know a great one. You don't have any allergies do you?" I decide to play it safe.    
    "Um," I really hope she means as a date, but that seems unlikely. "You mean, as friends?"
    Jackie laughs, "No." 
    Oh my God. She means on a date, doesn't she? Play it safe Cassie. "You don't mean . . .?
    "Actually I did, but if you don't want to that's fine,...

Let It Commence

Let the battle commence 
Let it be said, that hate is hate
Let it commence 
Let it commence, at any rate
The battle has to be fought 
The battle must be won 
If you don't approve, 
Then fight or run
Except you cannot 
Fight to win something . . .
That is not a win
It isn't a choice 
To be who you are
It's a choice;
To fight, what we are
It's a choice to hate on
Innocent people 
Let the innocents stay
You shall be defeated 

Let Treachery Commence

When lovers all be on strike 
Tell me, tell me dear; the truth
What hath cause' this bomb-shell
When all is fine, is't true?
People love but not mine own lonesome flesh
But most 'f all when I am loving you
So tell me, tell me dear;
What be th' truth
When love is gone an' lovers all on strike;
For replenishment of love for you
So love me, love me dearly
When all is lost, yet I am loving you 
Lovers all meet their dreary ends
But for the ones, who livith as thy selves 
And if not, let treachery commence 
Yet not if I keep loving you

Another Riddle

A riddle, I have one for thee 
'Tis a riddle for heart and life
So answer me this
If thy dares 
There are many in Paris
Rome is a thousand 
If you adore politics 
Or like witches astride broom sticks 
So answer me this
If thee hast the power
But thee doth n'need it
To simply understand me 
If trouble is afoot, or a hand
If thee's ever lust for distant lands
So jump on thy broom stick 
And sail away 
Go ride thy jarraffes 
For a year
And a day

A Riddle

The age-old burden in disguise 
With red-trucks, and butterflies 
When all these roots grow without end
They cage the dirt to gardeners tend
And when that dirt lays quiet an' still
The lovers and souls this burden kills 
So if you know of great things dead
Answer this riddle, by me lead

Get Me To Fifty Followers So I Will Host A Contest

When I reach fifty followers I will host a competition. I am about half way there, so it would be apreciated, (and in your best interests if you want to enter), if you would share around my work and if you like my pieces follow me. I have some cool prompts in mind for when I get to fifty followers, too.

The story of The Grand Canyon #Randomthoughts #Randomthoughts4

Every time that a heart breaks . . . something else breaks as well. From the little cracks in the footpath of lost teenage love, to the falling of an oak tree at the death of a close relative, and then . . . there's The Grand Canyon. It all started a millennia ago, when the Greek goddess Demeter was young. Demeter was the goddess of the harvest and of crops, the people adored her, for she was so integral in their way of life.
    "Alright dear, you go play with your nymph friends, and don't stay out to late," Demeter said to her wonderful daughter Persephone.
    Persephone left for the meadow, with a basket for collecting flowers, and Demeter went back to making the crops grow. Little did she know, that would be the last time in many years to come that she would see her daughter. Amazing what one can take for-granted when one...

Fifteen Year-old Over-spends So Much At Book Store That She Owes Her Mother Sixty Five Dollars #Conficiens

Fifteen-year-old Evanora Mc-Duff spent sixty five dollars on books at Robinson's Book Shop on Saturday, when asked by a reporter what prompted these so-called irresponsible actions, Mc-Duff used some inappropriate for a wider audiences, hand-gestures, and said: Because it is classics, it is actually a great bargain to buy so many great books for just sixty five dollars. I believe that if you are buying great books you should buy as many as possible because . . .  Unfortunately the recording device used for recording Mc-Duffs words crashed from an overload of book wisdom when downloading the speech onto a computer. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.
    The gist of what Mc-Duff was saying is that in lock-down, she has yearned for good books. Mc-Duff has an uncanny ability to find many, many books that she, and I quote her on this desperately need's. Basically, Robinson's is serene, incredible, and the book-shop equivalent of...

The Hike | #SomethingUnique1

As we walk along the gravel path, the scenery constantly changes. From peaks, with bushes covered in tiny white flowers, to thick eucalyptus bush, with massive, moss-covered rocks, probably five feet high. After a while of walking, the excitement of scenery changes start to wane, it is more of an Australian bush seeming walk than a fantasy trek. But, then, out of the blue, a beautiful beach appears. The water is crystal clear, the kind of blue that you barely ever see in nature, as bright as a Menelaus Blue Morpho, (it's a kind of butterfly). There is a rock ledge, over-looking the beach, but even that is a way down the hill. The weather is mild, the remains of a thunderstorm having disappeared minutes ago, but that doesn't make the trek past the peninsula any less tiring, we all wipe beads of perspiration off of our foreheads. The golden beach looks so inviting, just a quick swim maybe ....


Tear-stained faces at sundown 
Inky eyes will cry, sobs of ocean 
Silhouetted brunette crown 
To wish it to be cured with spells and potions 
But pain continues without fail 
Fire the cannon and raise the sails 
Walls around thy emotions
Like defenses around a base-camp   

Fifteen Year-old Over-spends So Much At Book Store That She Owes Her Mother Sixty Five Dollars #Conficiens

Fifteen-year-old Evanora Mc-Duff spent sixty five dollars on books at Robinson's Book Shop on Saturday, when asked by a reporter what prompted these so-called irresponsible actions, Mc-Duff used some inappropriate for a wider audiences, hand-gestures, and said: Because it is classics, it is actually a great bargain to buy so many great books for just sixty five dollars. I believe that if you are buying great books you should buy as many as possible because . . .  Unfortunately the recording device used for recording Mc-Duffs words crashed from an overload of book wisdom when downloading the speech onto a computer. We are sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.
    The gist of what Mc-Duff was saying is that in lock-down, she has yearned for good books. Mc-Duff has an uncanny ability to find many, many books that she, and I quote her on this desperately need's. Basically, Robinson's is serene, incredible, and the book-shop equivalent of...

Ghost Audience

The violin music floats down off the stage into an empty auditorium. I am the only one here to hear it, though I don't think that Brooke realizes anyone is in the room to hear her exquisite music. When the beautiful, melancholy piece finishes, I put two fingers to my mouth and wolf-whistle. Brooke clasps her violin harder, spinning around on the spot. 
    "Who's there?" she asks pointing her bow into the invisible audience. Then she sees me, standing alone, having heard her entire beautiful piece.
    I nod, smiling up at her, at this girl I didn't know possessed such a beautiful talent.

I have an important question about something, read this!

If I have published one of my pieces, and the group that the prompt was from is deleted, does my piece disappear? 
There was an announcement on the 'in this together' group, saying that if I don't save my pieces from their prompts, they will disappear when it is deleted. I really don't want this to happen, but I don't know if I would have to save them elsewhere, on word or something. 

The Unseen

Those Unseen Houses

The unseen houses
Beyond the fields 
Where chickens roam
And puppies play
The unseen families 
Out in the country
People drive past them
And very few see them
They stay the same
Through thick and thin
Those unseen houses
Unseen people 
And unseen they grin
Grin to the world
Because people can see
Those unseen people 
But their not cumber-worlds
Unseen they work
Unseen they play
Those unseen families 
Unseen today
Unseen tomorrow 
They shall stay unseen
Drive down small lanes
To see the unseen
In the middle of no-where 
Where people love life
Unseen families 
Safe from trouble and strife  

Chapter two, I guess

"Well Girls?" Ms Jacaranda purses her lips.
    "I don't know, it's just that going on a quest is a lot of responsibility. you know, what if it doesn't work out?"
    Circe looks at me when I say this, stunned that I would turn down a opportunity that tons of people in this school would kill for, probably literally. Well not entirely stunned, she knows I don't do quests.
    "I'm going, I mean-" Phoebe is interrupted just then by a knock on the office door. 
    A man opens it and steps inside. He wares a suit, much like that of human mortals in the eighteenth century, With a ruffled vanilla collar, and seems to have carried the strong perfume of Mexican Orange Blossom with him. "I am sorry to interrupt Mam, but there is someone outside who desperately wants to see you. I just couldn't dissuade them."
    Ms Jacaranda glares at...

Sun-Warmed Days

Dirt under my finger-nails
Gardening daisies 
And irises with snails
The wheel-barrow
Filled with weeds
A flock of sparrows
Some honeybees 

Green peach leaves
And apple trees
I find a hoe 
Dig chocolate dirt
Winter approaches
Through sun-warmed days 
Some birds I disconcert 

Tilly wanders
For winter doves prepare
Time mustn't be squandered 
As winter approaches 

Now it's upon us
The season of cold
Dinners a fuss
But still at sunset 
A light of gold

Chapter One

"The queen is dead." Iambus's tone has no mercy, no sympathy for what the kingdom has lost. He speaks very mater-of- factly.
    The crowd gasp, a few muffled screams escape. 
    "We all new this was coming, not many people loved our queen. But those who did, were loyal, and I am grateful for all of you. It will be a hard time; finding a new leader. But I believe that we can get through this together."
    The crowd cheers, cheering on this imbecile, just for the fact that he happened to be the queens advisor before she died.
    As one of the students at Junipers Collage For Trainee Leaders, I am not that surprised that Queen Sofia has been killed. The teachers taught us of the dangers at school, they scared off about half of the students with tales of past leader gory demises. I only stayed because my friends are there....

The Fight for Justice

No Justice No Piece

No justice means no piece
This is the truth
We are far from reaching justice
So we cannot call a truce 
People suffer and die
But we don't do anything 
So donate money 
Or go to protests 
Just do something

The white people twist the truth
It harms people allot 
When people twist their tangled lies
To make them sound believable 
Their tangled  web of lies

It always starts with just one lie
But in truth 
A white lie just means 
A good lie
And these are never white lies
Turning their words against them
At the tiniest slip-up 
Even minorities are people
Believe it or not
So everyone will make mistakes
And if you turn is on them
Well that go's into their tangled 
Web of lies

People are racist 
It always happens
And if you meet someone racist
Just turn your back
If you met someone racist
And didn't realize then
If they usually aren't 
Pull them up...

Another Stupid Love Story Not Worth Reading

Her hand slips into mine across the rug.
    "Is still like you, you know," Elizabeth says. Having her hand in mine makes it feel electric, like lightning flashing through me. 
    "One half of me is yours, the other half mine own, I would say. But if mine, then yours, so, all yours." She looks at me, perplexed.
    "You never did make any sense . . ."
    "What I just cleverly stated in Shakespearean, is 'I'm yours'."
    Her freckles shine in the dappled sunlight of the field. Her eyes wide she looks at me. "That can't be true, because I'm all yours."  

Another Stupid Love Story Not Worth Reading

Her hand slips into mine across the rug.
    "Is still like you, you know," Elizabeth says. Having her hand in mine makes it feel electric, like lightning flashing through me. 
    "One half of me is yours, the other half mine own, I would say. But if mine, then yours, so, all yours." She looks at me, perplexed.
    "You never did make any sense . . ."
    "What I just cleverly stated in Shakespearean, is 'I'm yours'."
    Her freckles shine in the dappled sunlight of the field. Her eyes wide she looks at me. "That can't be true, because I'm all yours." 

Old Sorrow

The blood on my ancestors hands, stains all who adore them's hands today.

The Things Between You Two

Love poetry; it is always about our feelings, I want it to be about your feelings
The way your smiles met each-others eyes
The way her hair was silky
Yours was so wild
And when you smiled at each other
The world was there
In that small piece of chewing gum
Or in many a stolen glace
I didn't know your feelings 
But then last summer
Years later it was
You told us the truth
About you and her
The story of love
And a tale of loss
Most people will tell you
That you will not find true love
At the age of seven
How wrong they are
I want this for her 
And I want this for you
Just tell her the truth
She could have feeling for you
So when playgrounds are empty
And we're children no-longer 
Please remember these words
And please tell her your thoughts 
But for now we're still teenagers
Talking about who fancies...

The Way That I Feel

You'll never know how I feel
I know it is true
You'll never know how I feel about you
We walk near each-other
But still far apart
Each time I call your name
There's a tug in my heart
For I know that you don't
Know the truth about me
I know you don't know 
The way that I see you
I know what I think
But you don't know it at all
The way your sprinkle of of freckles 
Makes me smile 
I think what it would be like
To hold you close to myself 
And I know that it won't 
Happen anytime now
Because I know you'll never like me
I hope that you'll know
The way that I feel
But at least for now
Our friendship is real


Your plait used to fall down your back 
All smiles 
Always joking 
Now your hair falls 
To your shoulders
And now we both
Grow older
But friends we still remain 

You used to say
You were a banana
And not a soul 
Said otherwise
You could say what you want 
And you didn't care
What others thought of you
Not once did I see
You stutter
Like me
I don't understand
Your confidence 
I'd love to be like you
I'd love to understand

You never thought badly 
I can't remember you frown
Everyone laughed at you
Silliness was your crown 
I remember you sarcasm 
Though it's so long since I've seen you
I'd love to see you again 
We'll meet by the bench 

writing streak week 11 day 3

The truth is in the ancient Greek, oh Greek is true, truer that stories now.

Endless Winter

Her bare feet crush the grass beneath, turning it to ice. Tears flow like braided rivers, down her apple cheeks. A cold mist circles Demeter, mimicking the ice in her heart, making it hard to see clearly, making her feel lost and helpless.              
    "Persephone, come home my darling, come home . . ." Her calls are lost to the crisp breeze, heard by none except her. 
    The cliff-side is near, but, through the thick fog, you would never know. Dark, leafless, oak-trees loom over Demeter, tall shadows, cut straight from the darkness in her heart. Not a soul is in sight, only Demeter, on this dark, lonely, hillock. 
    "Persephone! Persephone!" Although the goddess shouts, her heart doesn't seem in it. Like someone who has been searching for something for years, and doesn't believe in it anymore. Demeter calls with the voice of a broken soul. 
    Out of the fog, looms a shape....

writing streak week 11 day 2

It is true that people change, I have changed. When people change, they grow up, into something that they never imagined. But, they are still the same person.

Taking A Stand

There was once a woman
Her name was Rosa Parks
Rosa was brave
On a journey she embarked
She took a stand
She kept her seat 
She didn't let them push
Didn't let them defeat 

Rosa was
the most incredible woman
This because 
She took a great risk
But it payed off
And now we know
She started a change
Like dominoes 

Now people are fearful 
But this we can know
Rosa parks changed a lot 
And that has been shown 

Born Into Hatred

Man, woman, human. They all be slaves to what we call it? Culture. The burden of society lays upon us, like heavy dirt on an ancient grave. The innocents enslaved to no human it be, taken without concern, though it not come naturally. And in an ancient time where no-one is truly free, burdens so embedded no soul without the tropes. Lovers in ropes, people in chains, not 'loud by false leader be to be their own selves. Born into hatred, whichever side thy doth take.

Writing Streak Challenge Week 11

writing streak week 11 day 1

It is true that haters hate
Horrible people the world over
Hating on other peoples joys 
Saying it is unnatural 
People cannot think for their selves
It is the truth 
The whole truth
And nothing but the truth
That if people do what not harms anyone
You cannot judge for that
When people drain
On other peoples joys
Well this it the terrible 

writing streak week 10 day 2

The waves rise high, as tall as a grown adult, and crash down with the force of the sea. Swirling and foaming with the restlessness of all the pent up feelings of the ocean.  
    Our boggy-boards are mere pawns of the sea, out of our control now. The salty sea spray stings our faces, we are soaked to the skin, being tossed around by the waves. Control is relative to us, we must run in order to walk, and we are always weary of the crashing surf. 
    The sky is overcast, the sand swirls around our feet in the knee-high water.

Writing Streak Challenge Week 10

writing streak week 10 day 1

As we walk along skeleton creek, gravel crunching under our feet, the rhythm is steady. Pukekos pick their way across the barren grass, like peculiar stilt walkers, on their long, spindly legs. The reeds sway and turn, excitedly rustling, uneasy and restless in the fading light. They are so tall, we are dwarfed next to their flaxen stalks. The sounds of nature surround us, the rustling of leaves, the chirping of something that we cannot quite tell if it is a frog, or a cricket. Mostly the world is quiet at this time, as the sun dips over the horizon, leaving a blood-coloured wash over the pale gray sky. It is light enough to see, but just dark enough that your vision is impaired, and everything is hazy. The air has a crisp autumn touch, leaving the tip of your nose just colder than it was when we left the house. We cannot see the water past the tall reeds,...

I Wish They Had an App for That

Aesthetic Reader

Aesthetic reader
The idea of this app is that when you are going somewhere, a restaurant, a shop, -wherever you are going really- the app can tell you what the aesthetic of the place is. It would be a bit like google maps, in that you could search for a place on the map, or click on somewhere you are interested in.
In addition, you would be able to chose a popular aesthetic, and the map would highlight everything in that aesthetic.
People would right reviews on how much each place fits the aesthetic that it is labeled as.

Pocket Poem

Love and Hate

Some say love and hate are separate 
But this I don't believe
There are no stone-hard concepts 
That from files we retrieve 
Love and hate are something else 
An abstract concept I think
Love and hate are so entwined 
That there is no brink
You can't be on the brink of love
it just doesn't follow
There is no true and even
Between love and hate
Most love to hate
Some hate to love
The are not set in stone
Love and hate 
Are not like siblings
Clearly set alone
Love and hate is more like mist
With breeze 
Together blown

Writing Streak Challenge Week 9

writing streak week 9 day 1

It is pride month in eight days, I am drawing a picture for the first day of June.

My entry for enchanted forest poem #LBC12

This forest is enchanted
I know it to be true
The trees sway 
In a beautiful way
Like dancers
Under the deep sky of blue
A kangaroo hops away
Like a spirit
Through the trees
A wombat borrow 
A secret spot
People are rare to be seen
The enchanted animals are not
A flash of blue
A sharp hard beak
A kookaburra sings from her tree
This forest is enchanted
The animals I see
A white feather
A cockatoo
It's yellow plume so bright
This forest is enchanted
I knew it from first sight 

Another covid-19 poem because I felt like it

This time is bad
For many at least
Many are sad
Covid-19's a beast
Destroying lives
Ruining things
You cannot high five
And you fill with panic
When the doorbell rings

It's okay to be sad
And it's okay to cry
Just stay as strong as you can
Or just make apple pie
Remember to connect 
Online or on the phone
Just remember there's good
Even if people are stuck at home
Animals thrive 
In places unlikely 
You can see the city
From the bridge near my house
And a good friend of mine
Made a toy mouse
So good things can happen
Even in dark
Just don't give up hope
Remember to take heart

Covid poem

Oh to go outside
How longing we are
To go live our lives
Not just from afar
How boring it is
How tremendously treacherous
To be stuck inside

To be stuck at home
However nice the home
It's only one place
How longing we are
For a familiar face

When troubles at hand
When we're stuck at home
Just remember the time
It took to build Rome
Just remember that all this
Won't seem so bad
When this is all over
So don't be so sad
Remember to talk
Even over the phone
For there are things that can be done
Even while stuck at home


SOme numBeRs

In my life are many numbers, these to name a few
One pet dog
Two sisters
Three best friends 
Until the end
Four best friends parents
My sister best friend and I's
I was five when I met her
Six I don't even knows
Seven at my sisters party
And eight years I've know her

The story of an orange cat

As I walk down the garden, to lounge under the picnic table, that is under the tree, I see something odd. A black and white cat sits on the picnic table already.
    Naturally I hiss and arch my back. But the stranger pays no notice, gazing intently at something behind me. I may not have much respect for this cat, but curiosity overcomes me and I turn around.
    There, on the lush lawn, beside where my owner is playing with one of those ghastly fluff-balls, is a dog.
    The dog is some sort of terrier cross and seems to be having a staring contest with our cowish friend.
    I decide that there is only one decent course of action in this sort of situation; I get the hell out of there and save myself.
    My paws pound on the stone steps as I bound down them. I can hear that...

Challenge Completed

So, one of these is not a ten second essay, I don't know if my writing streak still counts but I am doing it anyway.

I drift of to sleep, in a small cave on a tiny rocky island, lulled into a doze by the song of the rippling waves. The storm has calmed now, so, only a light wind and a sprinkling of rain remains.
    Harper turns over beside me, gripping onto me in her sleep and mumbling something about how she is not a child, not a child. 
    I am nearly asleep on the cold hard ground of the cave, but it is hard not to think to much. From what I can tell the others all fell asleep a while ago. 
    Harper's copper hair is tangled and crusted with salt from our impromptu swim. Her hands grip my shoulder and she mutters incomprehensibly. I sigh quietly and try to clear my...

One For Sorrow

I sit on the park bench, head in hands, my heart aching and body shuddering with sobs.
    You can never know how much losing a person you are close to will hurt until it happens. I haven't even lost her forever really, Lucy only moved country, but as a fourteen year-old losing her first Girlfriend it feels like she has fallen of the face of the earth
    I earn a few strange glances from passers by for my trouble, but they are all to busy in their own worlds to pay much attention to a teenager crying her heart out on a bench in the park.
    Someone walks up to me. I can see them in the corner of my eye, but I refuse to look up until they actually shake my shoulder.
    I gasp a little, someone recognizes me? Looking up I come face to face with a...

writing streak week 7 day 4

Never criticize peoples art if you do not make art, for they had the guts to make it in the first place. 

One For Sorrow

I sit on the park bench, head in hands, my heart aching and body shuddering with sobs.
    You can never know how much losing a person you are close to will hurt until it happens. I haven't even lost her forever really, Lucy only moved country, but as a fourteen year-old losing her first Girlfriend it feels like she has fallen of the face of the earth
    I earn a few strange glances from passers by for my trouble, but they are all to busy in their own worlds to pay much attention to a teenager crying her heart out on a bench in the park.
    Someone walks up to me. I can see them in the corner of my eye, but I refuse to look up until they actually shake my shoulder.
    I gasp a little, someone recognizes me? Looking up I come face to face with a...


Covid-19 poem, (I am not a poet but drastic times call for drastic measures)

Out the window are no people
On the streets or in the shops
Out the window are no lovers
Out of hope when all is lost
But all is not lost
All is not gone
We can 
We will 
Carry on
Send cards
Play games
We must stay together 
Even if we are apart
Our hearts connect us
Our homes protect us
Even in our darkest days 
There will be light
There will be love
Out of my window sits a dove
Living still and loving still
A magpie warbles in a tree
There is good for all to see
So stay together
Don't break apart 
For we will are still together
In our hearts  

writing streak week 8 day 3

Never end a story with 'it was all a dream'. Just don't.

Writing Streak Challenge Week 8

writing streak week 8 day 1

Art is not about knowing how to draw, it is about knowing how not to draw. 

Writing streak week 8 day 2

I drift of to sleep, in a small cave on a tiny rocky island, lulled into a doze by the song of the rippling waves. The storm has calmed now, so, only a light wind and a sprinkling of rain remains.
    Harper turns over beside me, gripping onto me in her sleep and mumbling something about how she is not a child, not a child. 
    I am nearly asleep on the cold hard ground of the cave, but it is hard not to think to much. From what I can tell the others all fell asleep a while ago. 
    Harper's copper hair is tangled and crusted with salt from our impromptu swim. Her hands grip my shoulder and she mutters incomprehensibly. I sigh quietly and try to clear my head. 
    I hear a noise outside and my senses peak, fear of the unexplained is the greatest fear of all. 

continuing from my short story

The rock grows closer, jutting out of the water like some obscure pirate ship.
    "Guy's, we are going to crash into the rock in ten seconds." I don't know how we intend to get home if we are shipwrecked.
    Avery counts down the time until we hit the rock. "Nine."
    I don't think I can handle this.
    "Eight. Seven. Six."
    I rush over to the others and we huddle together, bracing ourselves.
    "Five. Four. Three."
    The four of us who are sitting on deck bunch closer, if we are going to shipwreck, we are going to shipwreck together. I'm worried about Avery though. I think she is counting down so we are all prepared, but what about her?
    "Two. One!"
    The ship jerks violently as our bow collides with the underwater part of the rock.
    I wonder something, "Avery, why...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 8

writing streak week 8 day 1

Art is not about knowing how to draw, it is about knowing how not to draw.

writing streak week 7 day 6

The storm rages on, our boat becoming more and more bashed up with every gust of wind, every icy wave.
    "Well at least you tried," Ebony consoles. She is not exactly great under stress, confidant most of the time but not great under pressure.
    Harper bites her lower lip, "What should we do now?" The question sparks a tidal wave of hopelessness inside me. What should we do now? 
    Avery has worked out which way is north by the position of the sun, but it turns out while I was asleep the main sail broke at the hands of a particularly strong gust of wind, so, we are left with nothing but the spinnaker which isn't going to be enough to get us back.
    The four of us, Harper, Ebony, Krystal and me (Ruby), sit on the deck, dad and worrisome. Avery told us to sit and rest for a while, she...

writing streak week 7 day 5

The icy water seeps into my clothing, making me even more cold. 
    I force myself to open my eyes under the water. I can barely see a thing and the sea is so cold that my heart is racing.
    I trained myself to be able to hold my breath for a long time but in the sea it is hard. The sand swirls around my like the storm above. I look around and can just see the compos sinking to the seafloor. I dive down toward it using all of my strength. 
    The silence is defining. I can hear my heart and little more.
    I make a grab for the compos. I don't think I can stay under much longer. The compos brushes my hand and I clutch at it, hope surging through me despite how worn out my lungs are.
    A massive wave creates an underwater-sandstorm and I have...

writing streak week 7 day 4

The boat lurches, it's deck sways and swerves, it's wooden floorboards soaked with icy water. I don't know how long I've slept for but it's nearly dark, or is it? I glance up at the sky, shocked by its colour. It is dark grey, covered in clouds, rain pores in buckets, soaking my hair and cloths so they cling to me, sopping wet. I realize with a start that Ebony and Avery are awake. Ebony is shaking Krystal with a force almost matching that of the roaring wind. I jump to my feet to help.
    "You're awake! Go wake up Harper!"
    A very powerful gust blows and the boat almost capsizes. On the small deck the others all seem to be doing something useful, I decide to help Avery with bailing out some water that has collected on the deck. 
    Krystal shouts for once in her life, "Guy's! We must have drifted a long...


I have written some haiku's.

My sister makes masks
They are pretty flannelette
Masks for everyone

Ciara makes us pies
Pies with apple and pastry 
They are tasty pies 


writing streak week 7 day 3

The five of us walk along the pier toward our vessel. The day is clear with only a few fluffy clouds skidding across the cerulean sky. 
    "So do you think anyone will notice our absence?" queries Krystal, nudging me from my right.
    Ebony looks over her shoulder to the dock behind us, "They might, but we won't be gone for long, it will be fine." She tosses her ebony hair, and walks of down the pier toward where the others are just starting to board the boat.
    "Harper!" calls Avery, lugging our freezer bag onto the boat. "Grab the other bag and stow it away."
    Harper does as she's bid, before we now it our small 'borrowed' sailing boat is sailing round the point.
    "So here is the plan," Avery states, "We are fishing for flat-heads, we need to get around that point there," she gestures to fisherman's point, "Because...

writing streak week 7 day 2

"Who are you?" the woman with seal fur asked brushing a lock of soaking auburn hair out of her eyes.
    The man widened his eyes, "I am a human, my name is Abraham. But who are you?" 
     The woman moved her feet, splashing lake water onto the shore. She glanced down, brushing water of her seal fur cloak. The man awaited her answer in silence. a cold wind ruffled their hair, The man shivered but the woman didn't seem to mind.
    "I am a selky, my name is August, I am the mother of your child." 

The Brass Owl

An afternoon of camp activities is enough to wear anyone out. Archery, canoeing, wheelbarrow races, it gets tiring. So, I am extremely pleased to be given a half-hour of free time. 
    As I walk into the cabin that I share with Elizabeth and Marlene I glance up and check that The Brass Owl hasn't moved. It's a strange thing, I first spotted it on our second day of camp, I could have sworn that is wasn't there the first day yet here is is. When Elizabeth and I first saw it we thought is was real, before realizing is was only a brass statue, still, I'm sure it moved it's head.
    Inside the cabin Marlene is already here, lying on the bed reading. She looks up, "Hey, has it moved?"
    "Nope, still sitting being creepy."                                                                                                                
    "Alright, well tell me if it moves," she says in mock seriousness.                                            
    Elizabeth walks in...

Five Line Fiction

chocolate biscuits

The cat settles in my lap. Lavender smiles sincerely at me, from across the picnic rug.
    "You know, Foxy seems to really love you." She gestures to the silver cat curled comfy in my lap. My heart warms, the sunshine floats down through the dappled shade, chocolate biscuit crumbs litter the pink checked fabric beneath us.     Lavender reaches out and touches my hand softly, clasping it in her own. maybe there is hope for us after all. 

Open Prompt

Elizabeth's Travels

I walk into the kitchen, my skirts brushing on the narrow door frame. The kitchen is small, just large enough for me and two other cooks to bake the bread, prepare the tea and cook the meat.                                                                           
    "Mr Addington wishes to see you Mam," Carol says, biting her lip.                                  
    "But there is bread to be made, I shall not leave you and Dorothy to do it on your own."        
    "We can manage Mam, he was very specific that you must come today."   
    Despite a rather uneasy feeling about this I walk down the staircase, towards the west wing where Mr Addington's study is located.           
    "You wanted to see me Sir?" I bow.
    "Yes, I have become rather distressed by the, er, rodent problem."                                                                              
    "Do you wish me to let one of the terriers loose again Sir?"                                                                                        
A minute smile noticeable on his face, the man...

Names, Names, Names

Names of things

A breakfast joint: Williams Wacky Waffles 
A new smartphone: Blueberry I-Phone 
An eyeglasses store: So you wanna look like Harry Potter
A dog pound: Lily's no-kill shelter; from Labs to Lakeland Terriers 
A highway: On the beaten track Highway
An island resort: Zeus's Island Paradise 
A new constellation: The Cartoon Dog
A pet polar bear: Lemonade 
A nail polish color: Pond-Slime Green
A new butterfly species: The Round-Bellied Green Butcher

One Day

Frida Kahlo Day

Frida Kahlo Day would fall on the sixth of July, which is Frida's birthday.

The day would be about making the best of any situation, it would be about art as well.

Frida Kahlo day would be a time to celebrate what Frida brought to the world, and how a bad thing can inspire good. On Frida Kahlo day families and friends would do activities such as learning to paint, because anyone can if they try.

The last important thing to acknowledge is that Frida's uni-brow was a symbol of how being different is a good thing, and that you should never be afraid to be yourself.

over all Frida Khalo Day would be a time to celebrate what you love most.

Open Prompt

Elizabeth's Travels

I walk into the kitchen, my skirts brushing on the narrow door frame. The kitchen is small, just large enough for me and two other cooks to bake the bread, prepare the tea and cook the meat.                                                                           
    "Mr Addington wishes to see you Mam," Carol says, biting her lip.                                  
    "But there is bread to be made, I shall not leave you and Dorothy to do it on your own."        
    "We can manage Mam, he was very specific that you must come today."   
    Despite a rather uneasy feeling about this I walk down the staircase, towards the west wing where Mr Addington's study is located.           
    "You wanted to see me Sir?" I bow.
    "Yes, I have become rather distressed by the, er, rodent problem."                                                                              
    "Do you wish me to let one of the terriers loose again Sir?"                                                                                        
A minute smile noticeable on his face, the man...

Writing Streak Challenge Week 7

writing streak week 7 day 1

The city buzzes with energy, it's buildings and lights taking on a life of their own with every car, every person excitedly chatting, every street lamp lighting up the Melbourne night sky almost as bright as daylight.                                         
    My phone buzzes, it's familiar tune lighting a spark in my heart at the thought that Layla might have responded this quickly. I glance down, flooding with disappointment, it's only Mum, telling me to be back to the hotel soon.                   
      For a girl from the country side of England, holidaying in Melbourne, I am already getting good at navigating this city. It's the opposite of that old song; the streetlamps don't beat a fatalistic warning, they beat with the heartbeat of the city, pulsing with life excitement and the never-stopping feeling that something amazing could happen, despite the fact that unless you count accidentally letting thirty cattle out of our neighbors farm, nothing that interesting ever happens to me. ...