Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Small Cracks

Small cracks

I waver on the edge
and ask myself
How deep is it?
this fiord beneath my feet
The crack is narrow
the ice has pushed up
on both sides
The tide
showing of its strength
This seems to be a
habit of mine
Teetering on the edge of
small cracks
Places where others
simply stretch their legs
and walk over
I am such a timid bird
embarrassed that 
with all my strength
I'm not an eagle
soaring off
a real precipice
drifting down
into a real


Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Something Missed

I have
but what is it
I have
I have travelled
a long way
to get here
I am sometimes
very tired
I hold up
in quiet places
I walk through
I listen
to birds
I pick up
I think about
the past
all the
The fireworks
at dusk
The stars
in the night sky
Where is it
This thing
I missed
I will only
I find it
If I
find it
to late


Saturday, November 24, 2012


Every day is
a new life
every hour
a second,
third, fourth,
every second
an adventure
so minuscule
we don't
the beating
of our hearts
each breath
we take


Jigalong Song

We came
to this
as adventurers

You felt
on the edge
I felt
I had
to the

for position
in a place
there need be

A place
of peace,
and ever

During quiet
we sat
knee to knee
hand in hand

the spirits
to give us
to the

Answers to

does love
come from?

does love

What is
the sound
of loss?

Jigalong song.


Jigalong Sunset (photo credit)
Jigalong is a remote Australian Indigenous community of approximately 427 people located in Western Australia. 

Wednesday, November 21, 2012


At times of their choosing they
travel to a meeting place
beyond the restrictions of their
every day world

In silence they drift toward
each other and lie quietly
floating and dreaming together
of yet to be discovered
days of wonder

She touches him and her body
comes alive, awakened from a long
self-imposed exile and she marvels
at how her senses
never forget

They are comforted and sated and
filled to the brim with old emotions
made new through this discovery
of a shared vision
intense and personal

They stay in this place for as long
as their minds allow, until the ordinary
world infringes again and returns
them to the duties
of the every day

Except now these gifts remain
just within reach
the body and spirit are
from the memory of their meeting
and they rest
in that joy


A note: These last two poems of mine are really old but when I encounter them again they bring back
memories and a sense of  an endearing history, something special to share again.


She is the one haunting
and the haunted,
the chalice and the wine,
the lover
and the beloved
the singer and the song

Because he can come to her
only in dreams
she feels their roles merge,
separate, merge again,
their energy moves, mingles,
passes away

A spiral downward into an abyss,
a deep cavern
echoing with the sounds
of joy


Monday, November 19, 2012

The Couple

They are woven together
no - punched,
a rug of many colours
all dark
Misery blended
with misery
until the pattern is
causing their neighbours
and strangers
to mistake them
for joy


Lost Poem

on a sea of unease
the wind rising
stirring my unwritten
blowing them
out of my mind
I weep
as I see them
against the shoal
Fair weather friends


Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Too Sweet

I am sickened from
too much sweet
yet I crave it and
rush to Woolies to buy
chocolate and liquorice
by the 100 gram
and eat until I am 
saturated and unsatisfied
silly and sick
confused again
What would suffice?
I wonder
instead of this



She likes to lie down
with her cheek pressed to cold cement
worn smooth on the surface
from being trod upon
by so many feet


Friday, November 2, 2012

What To Do

I've walked this
street one hundred
times before
Breathed deeply
the scent of cherry
blossoms in spring,
the cool fall breeze
has caressed my skin
as fallen leaves rustled
at my feet
Through winter wonderlands
and summer heat, sultry and
and then I met you
a chance encounter,
you were lost, walking down
the wrong street, looking for
the wrong house, not my house;
You smiled at me, reached out
and touched my arm
Destiny sang, karmic, cosmic
coincidences collided in colours
of every hue
What to do?
What to do?

Post Sally

You have to keep going
that's what everybody says
but what do they know
and what to keep going for?
Budding flowers,  falling leaves,
cantankerous old men, laughing children,
rebuilt houses, home made stew, joints,
dill pickles, apple pie, tequila, beer,
sunsets, beach walking, dreams, sex,
making love, birth, rebirth, etc, etc,
because the alternative


Friday, October 26, 2012


We used
 to dance
a slow waltz
Moving to the
music with just
enough attention
to be decent
You smelling of
spruce and Old Spice
and I


Beloved Gnome

Below the surface of the external
you move,
skillfully gathering treasures for me.

These you push to the surface
at appropriate moments
and I am filled with awe
at your artistry.

I poke about in this grubby
searching for signs of your
being near
A keen desire to possess this
wary spirit dominates me.

But you have disappeared into your
special subterranean world
of wanton fantasy

Silence engulfs me and I wait
willingly, longingly, for the


Thursday, October 18, 2012

Bag Lady

I could be that bag lady
you know
the one who stands outside
your favourite Greek restaurant
and holds her hand out
and says
"change please"
as you walk through the door
and stand by the bar and order
Greek salad to go and
when you get your food
you pass by her again
on the way out
and you walk home to your studio
and sit down in front of
the TV watching
Saturday night hockey
and you eat the tomatoes first
as usual
and then you go to the fridge
and crack a beer
just for a second
you remember
she touched your sleeve 
on the way out
"Christ" you say
"I'd better get that
jacket cleaned first thing
I could be her
I could be that bag lady
you know
for all you see me


Boys to Men

Boys to men
is history
but when this takes place
is a mystery

When he turns from
toy pistols and tiny cars
and takes up automatic rifles
and sends missiles to the stars

He runs away from girls,
is nervous and blushes
but before very long
he's number one with the rushes

He dreams of power
perhaps money and fame,
he's a little shocked to discover
how it's all such a game

But he plays it well
'cause that's what "men" do
he may never let on
that he's sensitive too

Like the smell of a battlefield
makes him so sick
but a toke or a rum
gets rid of that quick

Falling in love is a
short trip to bliss
But hold onto your head man
you can't live on this

He's got his priorities
lined up in a row
He knows for sure where
he's got to go

Boys to men
is history
But when this takes place
is a mystery


Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Night Street

Behind and beneath the
kaleidoscope of city lights
the homeless sleep on
cardboard mattresses and
cover themselves with
yesterday's news

I speed by their outposts
enclosed in a yellow cab
and admire the dramatic beauty
of reflected light


He & Thee

He's a pixie, fast and nimble
She's a fairy
she makes him tremble
She touches him
and sparks ignite
You see them as
falling stars
at night


Saturday, October 13, 2012

Old Fashioned Letters

delivered to boxes
known yet unknown

Beginnings on smooth white paper
she touches with her fingertips
wishing it were his shoulder blade
fitting into the palm of her hand

Black letters darting out
from her typewriter
forming new words
discoveries of her mind's eye

Letters to paper
as tongues meeting
delivering their special message


response or no response

Delightful tension
committed to the mail
from her hand to his
whatever mileage lie between

As he opens the envelope
as he unfolds the white sheet
as she transmits through this
the strength of her desire

the letter disintegrates
in his hands


Wednesday, October 10, 2012

An Inconvenience

She has been a nuisance woman

He could have done better with a Lab retriever,
faithful, obedient, and speechless;
unable to write letters
or call on the telephone

She, the cocoon lady,
locked herself away
from the rape of cold suitors
Filled with suspicion and disbelief
unable to open in a night

Inconvenient woman
wanting to make a mark on him
invisible to the naked eye
but felt in his heart

Wanting to emerge sometimes
through the words of a song
in a quiet office by the telephone
through the liquid warmth of a cup of tea
or thoughts of field mice in a country kitchen

a dance


Nuisance woman
feeling memories
through the palms of her hands
and coming up


Saturday, October 6, 2012

Winter Olympics

Too high to see anyone
and talk about the winter
olympics or how much
snow has fallen in the
Maritimes this year

So she sits at the sports bar
and drinks Guinness
She relaxes and lets her mind
trace outlines throughout
her body encircling the
places where her senses
have come alive again.
She waits for the old, resurfaced,
needs to subside

It’s an effort not to cry
the tears are right
there, She can feel her
eyes coated with moisture
The bar maid must be
thinking, “she’s high on

Or maybe just pathetic
and too old for this sort of
nonsense, she probably
thinks, “it will never
happen to me”

As if passion stops at
55, punch the time clock
and your card’s rejected, no
overtime allowed.

The second Guinness helps
She starts to watch the big screen
Olympic snowboarding
Wow, would you look at
that! He lifts off, spins in
the air, lands dead on and
finishes with a flourish,
snow flying around his feet

38.9 seconds
Is that a record, do you think?


Friday, October 5, 2012


I sketch strangers
on the street, endlessly,
until they cease to be
the others


Thursday, October 4, 2012

Are You There

If you only look on the surface
nothing moves here in winter
The thick ice seems dead and silent
The snow never melts
But when you walk on the ice
you see it differently
The ice is blue or green in the places
where gases are trapped within
Deep cracks appear
forced openings from the continuing
pressure of daily tides
The ice breaths as you walk
subtle and ghostly as if it is alive
under your feet
Steam rises from the crevices
The snow crunches underfoot
There are tiny tracks made by
some animal searching for food
If you listen closely the silence
is broken by the sound of the sea's breath
or the scratching of tiny feet on the
crust of the snow
If you only look on the surface
nothing moves here in winter
but when you walk on the ice
You see it differently.


Monday, October 1, 2012


These days are cold
yet no frost forms
on my windows
My view is clear and
what I see
are memories.
Rooftops covered
with snow,
wisps of smoke from
chimney tops,
a frozen fiord,
a full moon.


Saturday, September 29, 2012


She has escaped bonds
she is flying in the clouds


Freedom comes after
30 days with Haiku muse
strange bedfellow



This has been a perfect month of challenges. I have enjoyed it very much. The writing but also the reading of so many wonderful creative haiku. Thank you all so much for commenting on my contributions. I appreciate you stopping by. Thank you, Leo, for hosting. Until the next time,,,,,,

Friday, September 28, 2012


She has all the answers
and will always prove you wrong
Choose your battlefield


Battle fields abound
protagonists claim their truths
Futility reigns



Thursday, September 27, 2012

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Monday, September 24, 2012


Under the covers
thighs touch occasionally
Unconscious knowing



You love me
still the sad quarrels


A note - My pup had an emergency visit to the vet tonight and I didn't think I could write something - but changed my mind and tried,,,,,


Saturday, September 22, 2012

Friday, September 21, 2012

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Monday, September 17, 2012


Black & White

I will never starve
your love fills all of my needs
Consistent giving

I starve without you
the light is gone from my life
Rigor Mortis


Sunday, September 16, 2012


Tall grasses and flowers
a path you can barely see
Lure of the meadow


Saturday, September 15, 2012

Friday, September 14, 2012


I created you
you blossomed under my care

Fretting over seeds
always tending to new growth
Sharing creation


Thursday, September 13, 2012

Tuesday, September 11, 2012



Raindrops are falling
caught up in the peace of now
I lie and listen


Monday, September 10, 2012

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Friday, September 7, 2012

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Monday, September 3, 2012


Wilderness calls me
 full moon in a cloudless sky
the smell of burnt bush


Friday, August 31, 2012