In the way the walls

Do not descend and crush

Every speck of happiness



Reflected in the eyes

Of stranger folks than I

Crazy waves of happiness



In the casual acceptance

That my beauty shines

Every word is freedom



Copyright January 2014

The Gloom of the Butterfly

{Inspired by the painting Butterfly in Gloom by Jasmine Becket-Griffiths}


Long dark journey of her soul

Cocooned from all distractions

Wrapped within

The metamorphosis

Here will begin

After much sadness

She emerges full

Of hope and joy

To find


In the gloom of the world

Sad eyes

Her wings too small to fly

She cannot emulate the butterfly


Copyright June 2013

Mr. Nimbus’s Halo

It is said that if you squint in a certain light you can see the halo surrounding Rain Cloud Nimbus.  It is also said that Mr. Rain Cloud Nimbus believes he has a light shining from another part of his anatomy, but this is a story for another day. Today we will write on Mr. Nimbus’s halo.

The halo had come to Rain Cloud on the death of his grandfather. His own father, having died, was deemed ineligible. He was two years old at the time the halo descended, consequently he did not remember a time without one. Before he went to school he believed all children had a halo. After he was beaten up on his first day he realised this was not so.

His halo shone bright all through Primary School. When he reached puberty some of the shine came off it. Throughout his teens, and teenage exploits, the halo took on a tarnished glow. This tainted halo served him well throughout his University days and even into the workplace afterwards. Women were attracted.

As he aged into his thirties and then forties, the tainted halo tainted him. Women were no longer interested in his bad boy ways. He became lonely and sad. His halo began to droop.

One day, his mood low, he tried to hang himself from his halo. What had once seemed so substantial proved to be mere ephemera. His halo, the family heirloom, was an illusion. His whole life based on this lie.

So he forgot his halo. Got on with life. Took a new career path. He had business cards printed. Mr. Rain Cloud Nimbus: Rain Dancer. He was happy at last.

Still, it is said, if you squint in a certain light, you just might see the remnant of a halo surrounding Mr. Rain Cloud Nimbus, especially after storms.

Copyright April 2013

The Jug

He’d bought the jug for their first anniversary. She’d always hated it. It had become the focus of all her resentments. It symbolised all that was wrong. As he brought home his “sorry” flowers she dumped them in. Not that he called them that, she did, in her mind, as she watched him charm and flirt with anything in a skirt. He thought she didn’t know that he only bought flowers when he had something to hide. Was he in for a surprise.

As the removalists backed out of the driveway with the contents of the house within, she carefully place the jug in the middle of the bedroom floor. Symbolically, she left it empty.  Then she left the room, left the house, locked it behind her and left the key under the mat. Without a backward glance she drove off to her new life.

Copyright April 2013