if somebody is lousy to everybody but you,
some day you'll be everybody too

sense is nonsensical
the way i stretch my fabric legs across concrete
                                         man made
synthetic                and                        septic

the trees blow in the breeze
                      beyond me
there's no pattern to the sway
though it makes sense
                                               in a way

sense is nonsensical
and i wish i could release the weight of my brain
drift into the wind with the tree's sway
if i'm lucky,

                         forget my own name

A BRIEF HISTORY OF A LITTLE GIRL

she's a mere three
demands to know
"...the history of me..."

well, now I say
that was a long time ago
"...try to remember..." she pleads.

I remember when you
first came out of your shell
hatched into a lovely little girl

you were my duckling
everywhere I went
there you were

I could hear you cry
even before you cried
you made me a good daddy/mummy

your dreams
staining the blue
pillow with golden curls

every night the moon
would come to our window
just to take a peep at you

one day your name
perched upon you
and never flew off again

you were a fairy story
I had never heard before
and wanted to hear more

once when you fell
you hit the road
"Naughty road for falling me!"

"No I never!"
she squeals
"Oh yes you did!" I tickle

"Is there any more of me?"
"Oh loads...loads more
but I too old and tired!"

"Well..!" she tells her dolls
"He tells a good story but
shhh...it's not all true!"

the dolls gasp in disbelief
having drunk  down
the dregs of every detail

I HAVE BROUGHT YOU A WAVE

she brings me
the sea to see
in her tiny hands

tamed in blue buckets
the captured sea
sleeps beside her bed

*

It was the first time she saw the sea and she patted it like a pet and said; "See...sea my friend!" The sea fell in love with her and she fell in it.

Her mother was sick and couldn't make it down to the shore so Tilly kept trying to bring back the sea for her to see. But alas the sea would trickle through her little hands so nothing survived the journey. She kept trying and repeating " See the sea Mammy...see the sea!" or "I have brought you a wave!"
She managed to smuggle some sea home in her bright blue bucket with the red stripe and she kept it by her bedside because it was her friend. She would also sleep with twigs and stones and shells she had also befriended that day. She regarded everything as a sentient being and loved them all equally. To her a stick or a stone had as much right to a life as a human being or a bee. I think she believed that we are all here in this moment and so all living beings sharing the same place in the universe. Loving and kindness was her religion and she practiced it daily and embraced everyone and anything she saw.

I wish to see
A poem written from you to me
But would never ask
Maybe it’s best if I see
All poems as about me
Such a narcissistic task
But for every reader who identifies
The poem is about them, too
Personally, I’ve seen
Plenty of poetry
That could have been from you to me
In that it brought you to my mind
From wherever you are
And poetry responds in kind
To you, I’m sure
And then I meet somebody new
And somehow that poem
Becomes
About him, too

Sea-Flower
you were never one of us
not really
I think you drifted
perhaps we cut you loose
I cannot remember
anyway we meant no harm
we had the shallow callow charm of youth
a cruel chant
which slays the slayer in the end
how could we comprehend your need
or the way that it would end
one cold October day among the ****
pale as apple blossom
Sea-Flower indeed

Its not the sharpest teeth
That makes an enemy so.
Sharper be the teeth you find
On friend rather than foe.

I am not within your universe
Where imagination's dead.
I dwell apart in another
I created in it's stead.
Where mood is easily altered
By the rationing of the sun.
Though all the fragrances mingle
I still name them one by one.
My universe without any walls
Yet no entrance either be
Unparalled to any other because
It belongs to only me.