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Waiting For The Moon

van gogh moon


Slowly cloud drifts in dusk light

as night comes closer

suspended over the remnants of a day.

The view from the window is full

of silence, solitary, almost opaque,

creeping in the darkness.

A tree in front stands motionless,

as if it were waiting for the moon,

leaning gently into the night,

as if listening for her,

expecting her to rise over the mountain side

and shine her fullness bright.

And all eyes will look on at her beauty,

see how she sits in the sky

dressed in an infinity of stars.

And suddenly you’ll feel all alone,

touched by such vast space,

and you’ll weep hot tears in your aloneness

knowing that no-one and no-thing can save you

but yourself.


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Waiting For The Sun

The first morning shivvers do not realize the long arm of sunlight

reaching out into the shadows,

touching the hidden cold with its warmth.


the sun



Soon time will seem suspended

at the apex of the day

and everything shall bathe, shadowless,

just for a moment,

equally under the sun,

as if all life were denying Time  its march across forever,


feeling the burning of its belonging:

that all life was once a star.

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Unshaming The Self

ImageEveryone has a voice,

something that says that we dream too,

and in that dreaming create worlds which we want

to share,

because sharing is what makes us feel real.

Though at times our voices are silent,

as if a bridge between ourselves and an angel had been broken,

that that Beauty inside had been lost to us

and we are like shy children

hiding from our own lives in embarrassment.

Yet there is nothing to be ashamed of,

even those things we’ve said and done in anger

need  expression,

something that says ” I am Human”,

that what I feel is nothing special,

that feelings are what happen to everyone.

Our voice is the space in which they can be loved,

and in being loved,

recieved and communicated.


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ImageWhat makes a star burst, when,

before, it shone brilliantly

flames of innocense,

reflected throughout many other galaxies?

Such darkness could befall any one of us.

That dreadful decent into nothingness,

that shadow that follows incognito behind, like antimatter,

wanting to explode

a sun shinning inside us.

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A Bathroom Conversation with a Lover

ImageDown through the ages it seems water falls,

echoes in those secret places

where words are whispered and

intimacey shared.

Where love flushes red and silence hushes

sounds of laughter

wanting to explode.

Here there is only playfulness,

a fountain of innocence,

a simplicity of life which sparkles,

like light on water,

and bounces off the walls

when shared with one another.

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Morning Text Message

ImageOutside our large windows is framed a world waking up:

that child wants her mother,

those lovers somewhere peeking,

the old man dressing behind dirty curtains

thinking no one can see him,

the emptiness in that flat

pleading to be loved,

the smart phones already singing

instead of the birds,

messages sent to this brave new world

always seeming far away.

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