Dear Rosemary,
Your scent is so lovely;
Piney and fresh
I want to mesh
Your menth with mine,
You taste really divine 
With lamb, red wine and more
You linger in my garden galore.

Last intensive, last counselling lecture, last semester, last chaplaincy subject…
Last—
This won’t last, soon it will be in the past, right now I can’t wait for it to fly fast,
But I’m sure, sometime, in the not to near future,
I will look back with forlorn, how could it go so fast?
The future looms,
I need to zoom out, hold the prospects lightly, noticing how they feel…
I feel!
Exciting, overwhelming, the usual anxiety-producing sensations.
Could there be another way to feel about the future?
Could there be faith in the unfathomable, not too distant future?
Could the unknown become my friend, inviting me to see new possibilities?
Welcoming risks for pure bliss?
From this vantage point, it has flown,
But I know there have been times when it just felt slow, and my spirit groaned.
So, can I sit here, in the now, embrace the future full of confidence?
I am here now!
Four years ago the challenge loomed,
Felt like carrying bricks up Mount Everest: impossible.
But here I am. I am here.
Celebrate, clap and cheer
the impossibility is thus so near.
It whispers: come closer, lean in, don’t be afraid, peer…

I am enough,
I am tough,
I won’t lay down without a fight,
I am bright,
And if you don’t stop, I’m going to get rough!

You are nothing,
You are smothering,
You try to spread lies,
To make me panic and cry.
You think you're big, but I know the One who is enduring.

So I look to Him,
Breaths calm, anxiety falls back from the brim,
I can change,
I will focus on the feelings that don’t feel strange,
But on the One deep within.

When one quietens, life speaks.
In silence, the volume turns up on that which we are too busy to hear: birds bleeping, frogs frothing, lambs leaping and the wind whispering in our ears; the
Soul booms: remember me, I'm all you truly have
Listen.

Oh, Mr Darcy,
You truly are
One of my first and longest loves.
Those dark, brooding eyes,
And sparse words did his tongue speak.
I always did hold you up as
My favourite,
But I have come to find out,
not too handsome to tempt me.

The air sagged,
Like an old and ***** blanket.
If mothballs had set in it their tapestry,
That may have been a delight, 
And a slight respite from the 
Grey and wrinkly clouds that 
Stared dreary-eyed offering
No hope but empty promises:
You will be fruitful again!
When?!

I just overheard,
A gentleman slip out casually:
“We all have our secrets…” And I paused,
Self-reflectingly,
“Yes, i’spose we do…”

I always feel
like I am behind.
Like everyone else knows
The secret, or look at me
with those kind, sad eyes...
"You'll get there, honey...
in 10 years' time."

Okay, so maybe
I am a little beyond.
I come to things so **** late.
But at least I own my mind.

I choose my way!
Even if it's a pebbled path in the desert...
That goes round and round,
and round in circles so things aren't unlearned.

But when I look up;
take my nose out of a book,
I see that I am still reading Jane Eyre
other than cinematic thrillers with never-ending hooks.

Even today,
As I ponder this profound?
thought, I make sure I slurp coffee, [yay!!]
observe with all my senses, surround...

Are all our words
enchanting works
of witches--
We wield them into submission
while we drink
from others'
intoxicating feasts
of fruits;
blood, sweat, tears from the gloom
And words hidden in remission?

Being me — 
Truly me, flaws and all — 
Glory and all — 
Opening my eyes to see.

Accepting: exquisitely me — 
Yet filled with sin — 
Not holding back, but fully accepting — 
Having a measured conceptual aid; see — 

Forward-thinking, but living now — 
Grateful breathing — 
Cheekily teasing — 
Knowing the past; living in the now.

Kaleidoscope of moments — 
Divine yet, still fall short — 
Seek The Source, by whom our heart is fraught —
Community, not nomads.

Gratitude
Is Goodness ****?
Noticing goose pimples, because
I think it’s the heart of noticing the Holy Spirit, attuned.
Resilience; overcoming the setbacks
in life and spinning them into gold dust.
Rejoicing in difficult times;
Fear, and expanding into ever-increasing wanderlust.
Faith;
Play like no one’s watching,
giving legs to the dreams you’ve been harbouring
in your heart
Persist and resist the shameful stares and unrealistic expectations; depart.
Start a new and see your dreams through.

Known

Slow down, everything’s moving too fast:
On a beat that’s pushing forward, releasing the past.
But here is where I am;
The cool morning air gently caresses my skin; sirens sound far off: an emergency of sorts, lives in danger, rescued: comforting.
Yes, there are lists, present problems praying to solve,
But this is a 'lent' moment, and I won’t let that get old. I smile; these are the ones foretold.

the smell of freshly cut grass;
so infamous that companies
have tried to bottle it a mass
but it doesn't include the many
mud, smashed sticks, twigs
insect bits, that accumulate
and get thrown in the trash.
the smell of success!

Cold isolation,
Hibernation, and intense fascination,
With self. I needed to do this to reclaim the lost, broken-hearted, and wounded parts of me,
Lonely seasons bring out despair: depression, desperation.

But then things crack and light streams in,
Warmth and life overpowers darkness, enveloping,
With love, grace, a heavenly face that wipes away every tear and love wounds that trace
The maker of our seasons, the one who writes new story endings.

Liberation is a fire that burns deep within, new rumblings, in the heat of new adventures,
New maturity emerges, new insights replace old that are purged,
There is freedom here, new dreams spark, courage is abounding in my inner nature,
New possibilities are seen, tasted, and felt,
Small steps evolve into giant leaps into the future.

To stabilise all this growth, you have to take stock,
Step out of the spotlight, and tend to the flock.
It’s time to reflect, marvel, and enjoy, all the moments in life: good and bad,
And embrace the confidence of standing on firm rock.

From this place, I step into my reward,
Rejoicing that all things are made new, on his accord,
New wisdom is found: pockets with pearls, lavish plunder, so different from the darkness that once hung,
But now I fight my battles with a double-edged sword.

I just had a vision;
of all of us @HelloPoetry poets
online around the world, reading and writing poetry.
What do we look like; this precious community?
Are we similar or vastly different?
Tall or small, dark or light, and handsome or indifferent?!

I would love to see, all of us from up high,
flourishing, or anguishing, in our creative drive.
May we collectively motivate one another,
as we strive, applaud as one hovers,
and empathise as one dives,
down, deep low, crash and burns, as we try.

We become blind when we cease
To see, the extraordinary within you and me.

We blame and name and attempt to tame
Others to be the same, for peace?

Open your eyes anew, please!
And open your hands trustingly.

Loved

I am…..




                                                     …LOVED.

These are the best days of our lives, or
Are there better days to come?
No more sorrow, no more pain, so much more to gain,
When we trust in the rising Son,
Now, smile. Joy thrives;
Saved lives, new creations, in time with the eternal drum.

Start Small

Betrayal with empty words and no action, except to line their pockets with the fat from profits.
Profits from products that have served to distract us from what’s important:
Relationships. Relationships with our land, relationships with others and relationships with ourselves.
Meaningful action is what we need. It’s our only hope.
Action stems from hearts connected to the one that gives life.
Change is constant. Climate change is chaotic and killing us slowly,
But part of our cosmic life.
We need to change within and live change out.
No more empty words, empty thoughts, empty hearts!
Just act now in meaningful ways that bring life!
Just start small, but with love.
Just don’t continue to sit on hands that are meant to serve, with love.
Just start; it will suffice.

time and times to remember
sailing mostly quietly by

a memory worth remembrance
-love you found despite yourself

travelling a finite road
-with eternal consequence

friends and past lovers gone
-often prayer leaves the lips

a whispered personal conversation
-with the God of Love

in your loneness
this is the best you've got.

Our thoughts,
And our ways,
Become whiter than snow
When we gaze, without haze,
Lovingly upon the Lord.
We rest, cease the quest
And invest where our fortune
Is outside of time;
outside of oughts.

Poems pepper every waking wonder,
all peccadillos are fodder,
for the poetry potting mix.
Perfectionism once the precipice,
although still my poking stick,
creativity is my ignition, really revs my engine,
and, I hope will burn brighter.
Poems take me away, far, far away,
to a world so wonderful,
I wake up thinking of no other.

I've been cut —
Down on all sides.
I've been lashed —
From the pain within.
I've severed —
Head and heart,
To avoid any further future fracture,
You could say:
“I've been to hell and back!”
But, extraordinarily
A shoot of hope
Grows within,
And I will water wastefully
Because I am worth it!

Even though I hold a bouquet of regret,
I shall not fret --
        Because You will ensure
        I never fall.

As a rule of thumb,
Read things twice.

I’m calling you back deep, dear one.
Deep, into the fullness of love.
Unceasing. Deep work has begun,
Everlasting, freedom-flying dove.

yearnings called me back deep,
pulling me in the opposite direction.

Just stop, trying,
Just, stop, trying. No more,
Let it pass, stop denying.
Wipe the tears, drying, lift your eyes,
No more nigh in, or fighting or sighing,
But more yes.
And more success!
And more belief through accepting divine relief.

Glued, we’ll stop and sit
And watch that race capture our Nation.
We admire the breed, stamina and steed
Both mare and filly together.

We may get dressed up,
Even if we’re not there trackside.
Big-brimmed hat or bunched boutique,
Mini skirt or pant-suit joined
With man on hip wearing a top hat.
We whistle and cheer,
Throw our hands in the air
As the horse rounds the bend.

We feel so close to the action
That we’re all bopping up and down
As if we’re the ones striding,
But it's the TAB that's riding us!

When we all bet on our favourite horse;
The pink and yellow stripes,
Got me, I’ll smile and swallow
The next glass of champagne, or sparkling Chardonnay,
because we’re in Australia,
Far outside that region.

I remember grinning,
As I claimed my winnings -
gold coins and sipping sparkling cider,
And declared: yeah, I picked that rider!

To silence the chatter in one's head, one needs to watch it, listen to it, discern it, and master the response.

We all want to be seen and heard, but too many of us don't. As we chase that desire for attention, we forget and miss the need to see someone else.

Busyness has become the currency of this day. "Are you as busy as I?', screams our social media posts. We yearn to be valued and significant to someone else. So much so that we will devalue ourselves and gain our desired attention.

Does that sound familiar?

Of course, others don't have that same craving. But they have other cravings. I think it was St Augustine who said we have a heart-shaped hole/wound within; aching to be filled. And in our haste and uncomfortableness to sit with that ache, we stuff it, numb it, ignore it with stuff that distracts the call to seek our maker. 

But what we need is to accept God's love. Not the duties. Not the need to 'be good' but the call to be loved.

Time tells tales: of where we find our fortune,
Seven years of recovering, seven years of dependence, seven years of healing, seven years of growing freedom.
After seven times seven minus seven days on life support,
lying in a coma, wondering when I would wake up, if ever.
These years were spent learning: from unknowing, awkward, and uncertain to knowing, revelation, and authenticity.
I saw my underbelly, I wrestled with my inner foes,
I reconciled with my complexity,
And was held by the One who truly knows,
The future, the road that’s still ahead, and
The enlargement, the promises fulfilled.
The love and acceptance, the rejoicing.
I step out into the unknown more bolder now,
Holding the hand of the One who is more known.
Time is ahead of me, I don’t need to speed it up, but rather I desperately want to slow it down: and
Savour the moments, minutes, and the memories,
Of life here: now that’s a fortunate tale!

I peer out as the train moves by;
Sights, sounds, and smells all combulate,
It’s early, I sigh.
At each town, I ponder
The lives of those yonder, what secrets here make sleeping dogs lie?

Waiting’s heavy yoke; a punishment beareth I cannot,
Unknown steps before me terrify; well-known potholes behind I've trot.
Weighty dreams consume the ego’s choker chain,
Releasing all this right now, trusting there's so much more to gain
Travel to far-off places experiencing life in new ways
Adventure abounds, and destination awaits; confidently claim the future and graciously inhabit new traits.

I used to think,
Joy was the absence of sadness;
Of fear, suffering, and
Fault.
But now,
I see joy as
Embracing pleasures in the pain;
The simple and sublime,
The now and not yet.

I surrender.
The wars of my ego,
Exhaust me.
I look back
And remember victory,
Because looking forward
Just seems like fantasy.
What is this state of being, exile?!
Life, call me back.
Help me, plant my hope again.

What are our lives for? But to reveal our maker,
If we try too hard, we end up highlighting the faker.
Taken off path and into uncertainty, we copy
Others to fit in and minimise the ill feelings of being a nobody.
But it's not too late; turn back around and seek,
Another vision; your authentic self, even if she is meek.
For, one day she will grow tall; into herself once more,
She will be stronger, as she releases the angst from her ankles and pain from her core.
Masterpieces take time, discovery and delight,
Open your eyes and welcome new sight.
The path may not be what you dreamed - but it may be better;
Sweeter, freer, costlier.
But Yours.

tortured poet
I sometimes am,
when all thoughts
and motions once clammed,
convulses through me;
vibrations from a soul, man,
within.

when I notice
and lean in,
words spew out;
liberating me
from deep yearning.

I went to bed last night
With a little square of chocolate,
And woke up with
chocolate sheets --

Old Stanley pub,
Known around here for its blues
And delicious grub.
Fueled by blanc De blanc,
Makes you sway 
Infused by all intoxicating effects,
as the croons slay.

How quickly we’ve been brought down,
On bended knees, crying please,
Stop the disease, we’ll take off the crown,
To our lives; listening to lies, mantras of self-help tease,
Hope beyond now. Clear the mental fog and refocus.

Through poetry, I found my voice.
Lost, long ago, shame gave me no choice.
I used to speak in front of hundreds,
thousands even,
and now I don't speak, I listen;
to the ballads;
to the tunes of the heart; the words we don't say.
The beats are the words I wished were okay.
But, by not talking, I had come out of sync
with who I became, needing to re-ink
Become proud even, to reclaim.
My voice sounds different now, softer and older, but the essence is still the same.

You have a right to change your mind about me,
yes, you are free, to think what you like about what you see,
and what you think you see —
don't see —
about what you want me to be.
Because that's more about you than me.
so, go right ahead and think differently —
it is freeing then, immediately.

I've spent the majority
of my life performing to your tune,
the one you fiddled on your flute
rather than changing your own swoon,
it must be pretty difficult
waiting for others to change
all the while stagnating
in your narcissistic slime.

You have a right to change your mind about me,
I'm a maverick, you'll see!
Through trials and forced transmutation;
I am a girl and a woman,
I am a heart and an evolution
of a story still being told —
That's just it, never will my spirit grow old.

Some men
get knocked down far too easily.
They're as solid
as a sandcastle when the air is breezy.

Are we now a world
where our values do not matter?
They beg for coin,*
but deliver poisonous words that shatter --

I am not a "man hater"
I am desperate to find,
Men who can stand the test of time,
And know and whence speak their mind --

But all I see are puppets --
tied to the TikTok
Of public opinion that changes every season,
dancing to the worthless tune run amok --

I hold this space
For you to be —
Vulnerable and wholly.
I hold the space
When you stumble,
I come alongside,
on bended knee,
So that I can see —
Your bright future in my eyes.
I tell you what's ahead
It's more exciting than you can imagine —
I encourage you to look up
And out,
And live with no regrets.
Isn’t that what it's like to love?!

Change me like a Rubik’s Cube

Can we taste glory, not shame?

Faith is a full-sensory experience;
Enliven our senses today that we may claim Your glory.

We often live deep in our thoughts,
Surrounded by the shame
Of this world.
Tasting the fruit of evil,
But You are calling me to life.

Love me; shower me with Your sunshine,
Change me like a Rubik’s Cube,
And free me
From the entanglements
Of my shame.

May I never be the same!

Step by step your dependence grows;
Worldliness discarded: trophies, titles, triumphantism — the tyranny of the soul.
Eventually bare: standing face to face with the glory there,
No distractions; joy starts to pop up in simplicity
A smile, a glance, a taste, a dance, a puzzle solved, an encounter by chance.
Now you can live more healthily.