POETRY
Living expressions of inner work. Offered as a glimpse of the process towards radical self-acceptance, healing, and growth.
Forever Cursed To Sing
Can’t you hear
My silent screams?
Can’t you see
The rope’s sway?
My head is too heavy
To cradle in your arms
I’m loathe
To drive you away
The bridges we
Walked hand in hand
You returned in secret
To burn
Thus my fate
Is bound to yours
Now the mirror’s eye
Has learnt to yearn
I was blinded
By the shine
Of your porcelain
Handshake
Fooled into believing
That nothing
Would ever
Cause us to break
The memory
Of our time apart
Like the returning
Of a playground swing
Pushing against
Fate itself
Forever cursed
To sing
Oh how
I’ve learnt
To hold onto
All those toxic tears
Created and then
Faced together
You and I
Embodying each other’s fears
The embers of
Last night’s fire
Lie discarded
In their pit
Smoldering
As we dance around
No chairs left
On which to sit
Can’t you hear
My silent screams?
Can’t you see
The rope’s sway?
My head is too heavy
To cradle in your arms
I’m loathe
To drive you away
The bridges we
Walked hand in hand
You returned in secret
To burn
Thus my fate
Is bound to yours
Now the mirror’s eye
Has learnt to yearn
I was blinded
By the shine
Of your porcelain
Handshake
Fooled into believing
That nothing
Would ever
Cause us to break
The memory
Of our time apart
Like the returning
Of a playground swing
Pushing against
Fate itself
Forever cursed
To sing
Oh how
I’ve learnt
To hold onto
All those toxic tears
Created and then
Faced together
You and I
Embodying each other’s fears
The embers of
Last night’s fire
Lie discarded
In their pit
Smouldering
As we dance around
No chairs left
On which to sit
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Love Is
Love is a mortgage,
A debt promise of pain.
Paid with interest,
For those you outlive.
Love is making connections
Despite knowing they will be broken.
And it’s the letting go
Of the guilt for doing so.
Love is for the small sacrifices,
That contain the hidden joys.
And the memory that’s both
Blessing and curse.
Love is knowing when to push,
And when you must concede.
The realisation that you’re wrong,
And the leaving of transgressions unseen.
Love is the give and take,
The unspoken word.
The comforts freely given,
And those gratefully accepted.
Love is the discipline to say no,
Through begging, pleading and pain.
And the careful observation,
Of limits reached.
Love is tempered guidance,
A shot at eternity.
And the words of encouragement,
To try once more.
Love is a partnership,
A bonding of the muse.
A step into darkness,
Taken together in faith.
Love is a mortgage,
A debt promise of pain.
Paid with interest,
For those you outlive.
Love is making connections
Despite knowing they will be broken.
And it’s the letting go
Of the guilt for doing so.
Love is for the small sacrifices,
That contain the hidden joys.
And the memory that’s both
Blessing and curse.
Love is knowing when to push,
And when you must concede.
The realisation that you’re wrong,
And the leaving of transgressions unseen.
Love is the give and take,
The unspoken word.
The comforts freely given,
And those gratefully accepted.
Love is the discipline to say no,
Through begging, pleading and pain.
And the careful observation,
Of limits reached.
Love is tempered guidance,
A shot at eternity.
And the words of encouragement,
To try once more.
Love is a partnership,
A bonding of the muse.
A step into darkness,
Taken together in faith.
This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence
Do You Love Me, Or Just The Idea Of Me?
Do you love me,
Or just the idea of me?
I may be your ‘dream girl’
But I am real,
And that reality is different
From your fantasy.
How often must we fight,
Just to clarify
That you expected
Me to speak differently?
How many tears must fall,
Just to realise
That you expected
Me to be something I’m not?
If you love me,
Please drop your expectations
And open your eyes
To the real me.
My body has blemishes.
I will lose my temper.
I judge unfairly.
I get things wrong.
I am not perfect,
No one is.
Unless of course,
They’re just a dream.
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
Let’s Pledge To Repair
I know you care
And that you’ll always be there
But our intimacy?
It’s threadbare
Our bodies are no longer aware of the softness we would once share
It’s unfair
That the first thing to go was caress of one another’s hair
And the impromptu hugs that came from anywhere
No one is to blame
We just became distracted by stress’s snare
And focused on our children’s welfare
I know it’s wrong to compare
But I know we both miss the fanfare
The tender words that would soothe any nightmare
The love we would declare
And the time we would spare
So please
Take my hands
Let’s pledge to repair
To once again become a pair
To take time together no matter where
And no matter what events snare
Let’s swear
To take time daily and simply stare
Into each other’s eyes
Into each others hearts
To see each other bare
Let’s choose to share the same air
To take those gestures now rare
And gift them everywhere
To help each other up the stairs
To listen to the despair
To sit together in prayer
To love
And to be aware
Does that sound fair?
This poem is from the book Poetry from a Dark Night of the Soul
A Moment Fragmented
A moment fragmented
Against a lifetime
Of similar moments
A life shattered
Well before it’s time
Those moments
Replayed, rewound, and reworked
Those moments reconstructed
Into a tolerable shadow
Forever following
Forever protecting
Forever warning
Forever recalling
Those moments
Where life was fragmented
Forever forestalling
Advancement and growth
Forever focusing
Upon the past
And everything it implies
About the future
Another moment
Another fragmentation
Another destruction
Another shadow
Another protection
Another warning
Another follower
Just more weight
To carry into the future
Just more weight
To hold me in place
Just more weight
To remember
Just more
Just another
Just me
Reliving a moment
All those moments
Again
This poem is from the book A Requiem For What Could Have Been: Poetry For The Broken
It's Not Wrong
It’s not wrong to disagree
Just make sure you speak fairly
It’s not wrong to say goodbye
Just make sure you first try
It’s not wrong to say sorry
Just make sure it’s not out of worry
It’s not wrong to up and leave
Just make sure your heart’s on your sleeve
It’s not wrong to be incompatible
Just make sure you stay amiable
It’s not wrong to put yourself first
Just make sure you avoid the worst
This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly
Let Me Be Me
I look different from the inside.
I know what you see,
But you don’t know what I hide,
You think it’s just smiles and glee.
Really I don’t feel safe to confide,
Cause’ I’ve got demons you see.
They cajole, sow doubts and chide,
Making me question what it is to be me.
Showing my faults, destroying my pride,
Highlighting how I act differently.
They remind me of when I cried,
And make me think all fuzzy.
They suggest I shouldn’t have tried,
Confusion they guarantee.
I just want to be free,
To be and to be me.
To not worry about what you see,
Or wanting to flee,
Or to fit some unspoken decree.
What’s the key?
Can thee enlighten me?
Or should I hide inside,
Bide my time and chide?
Swallow my pride and wish I’d simply died?
Please confide, be my guide,
And give me what I’ve been denied.
Ah, I see, you lied.
You see me as debris.
You barely even tried,
Before making me feel crappy.
‘Cause you were the one who cried
And spoke with such irony.
Like it was me who beat your backside,
And me who raised you absently,
And me who caused your family to divide,
And me who acted grotesquely,
And me who failed to provide,
And me who never gave an apology.
No, I’ve said sorry.
My actions weren’t justified.
But I am not them and I will never be.
Don’t you see?
You need therapy.
I’m not being snide,
Because in this, you are just like me.
Confide in an expert.
Tell them your story.
Share what you were denied,
Open up and actually let someone inside.
Ah, I see you lied.
You don’t want recovery, just an excuse to hide.
I have tried, and it didn’t work,
So please set me free, and
Let me be me.
This poem is from the book Bound To The Wings Of A Butterfly
Rejection
You are not what I am wanting.
Don’t offer to change.
The desire to change yourself
Is itself off-putting.
I know myself well enough
To know what I want;
And what I want is not to be found in you.
This isn’t to be lamented,
Mourned or concerned.
But to be celebrated.
Because if I had you as you are,
I wouldn’t be happy.
If you were to change, you wouldn’t be happy.
By taking you,
It would be as to someone else
Not having you.
This someone would find affection,
Where I see only flaws.
Would find joy, where I see annoyance.
A union should be frictionless.
Two pieces of a puzzle coming together,
Not a round peg, conforming to a square hole.
Don’t get me wrong,
This is not a criticism of you in any way.
You are perfect, but simply not perfect for me.
You are what someone is wanting;
And in turn you are wanting that someone.
But that someone is not me,
And you can never be my someone.
This poem is from the book Words On A Page