Self Perception


a glimpse of self

reflects off glass

a haunt settles in a mirror


drawn with the finest of strokes

on grease-proof paper for posterity

another self disintegrates


seen from the inside

oblivious to the realities of time

a third self sings lullabies



Copyright July 2017


Imperial Thoughts

back and forth the argument goes

she could follow the thread if she wanted to

but her mind drifts on other thoughts

of sunny endless times

and 26 inch waists

{she wonders when she stopped mentally translating imperial into metric}

she thinks of diets and books

and who in their right mind would pay $32,000 for a dress

{skewed priorities}

when it could buy a whole library of adventures

she thinks on landlords and a quick buck

of people trapped in life

and burning infernos

she tunes back in for a moment

only to realise the argument

has tied itself in knots

it could take years to unravel

{keep them occupied for the rest of the term}

she sidles back within

has a cup of tea and a chat

with the various demons who have taken up residence

in her mind over the years

“give a man an inch and he’ll take a mile” she thinks to herself

{mentally translating the measurements into centimetres}

before picking up a book

and escaping for a while

into fantasies



Copyright June 2017


Something Little This Way Comes

she broods as she potters about

filling up the day with little happenings

she tries not to tell herself off

for getting something trivial so wrong

but underneath she’s mortified

the world shakes a little on its axis

and a collective gasp of horror reverberates

at a level only she can hear

tomorrow I’ll delete it she thinks

and then no one will know

except memory



Copyright June 2017

A Few Haiku

toot my horn to warn
this is my road to nowhere
beep, I’m coming through


running out of time
as we stand in our corner
fighting with phantoms


around the edges
sunlight filters into rooms
even in winter


the red dragon squats
meditates on golden hills
glorious sunset


don’t shoot mockingbirds
the power is in your hands
freedom at a price


tonight the moon sips
light directly from the sun
drunken beaming smile


page after page rips
stories from another space
the fabric of time


today the sunshine
goes to battle against winds
a shivering peace


broomsticks and black cats
as the wolf howls at the moon
tides wait for no one


this cold afternoon
adorned in a cardigan
wet towels outside


this sad winter tune
lost in the silence of night
do cicadas sleep


tracing the rhythm
each beat a poetic tone
faster than sonnets


widening the gap
revolutionary times
a long way to fall


the sound of jack boots
marching over civil rights
a shifting focus



Copyright June 2017