Take me to the hidden lake
let us wander through 
the valleys of your heart
Let us revel in the splendour
of all that rests within
Accumulations, it’s what we are
everything we’ve felt and seen

Let us swim in the hidden lake
in that secret world
deep at the core of you
Make it rain, bring forth the sun
We’ll watch the waters flow
across your canvas 
into the sea, into reality

Whe...

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I can’t remember how or when I began
to think I could create something
new maybe I started with
imitating my mother
who sewed,
cooked, 
painted,
grew flowers.

I too began
to make new things
I could see that this was
how to live in the new world
to which I had entered I learned
how to live and to shape my life.

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Ostracised by society for my ancestors blood flowing in my veins,

Was once kings and queens but now stuck in postcolonial chains.

Our people in power are now corrupt playing the slave owners games,

As their puppeteer allows them small wealth as long as they keep us all tamed. 

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I love being surrounded 

by books, music and poetry. 

Each one comforts me, 

provides a healthy escape

from too much reality, 

an alternate destiny,

full of adventure, passion,

rhythm and rhyme.

I will choose books,

music and poetry 

over life’s drama

every time! 

https://youtu.be/_yv7lRMWDlU

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You are enough. 

Insecurity or 

grandiose confidence 

isn’t necessary. 

Doubt, distraction, 

procrastination, fear, 

impostor syndrome,

borderline lunacy... 

are costs of the 

creative process.

Keep creating 

through it all.

But, then again,

what do I know.

https://youtu.be/sIaT8Jl2zpI

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I want you to be unruly
write hard and clear
about tangled emotion
those who don’t
make me suspicious
I know there are other things
like genocide and selfish parking
and the bruises received
behind closed doors

I want to know people 
who are walking antennas 
sensitive and gifted
nerves nakedly exposed
flailing in the fallout

I was raised to keep all hidden
I was raised to deny ...

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Living in the shadow

of someone else’s life

is a safe hiding place,

most of the time. 

You get to observe, 

detached, 

no fear, no pain. 

Fertile breeding ground

to create art, music, poetry...

Until the shadow turns around,

chases you down, 

strips you naked in front of a

stone-casting society. 

Do you stand erect

in the blinding light...

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Here's the science bit... the left side of the brain is where visuals and imaginative ideas are constructed and so....

Is someone being misleading

Telling tales Oh So deceiving?

With every word they utter

There just ain't 

No believing

Still searching for the truth

But not a single trace

One thing  that you must do

Look straight 

Into

Their face

As soon as you'v...

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Don’t be scared to put it out there
Don’t be scared to speak
sometimes what you choose to make
is pure gold

Don’t be afraid to paint what you love
Don’t be afraid to create
some things are bigger than you ever knew
eternal beyond our lives

I say go
and keep going
go and keep going
murmur love, if that’s all you’ve got

I love the way you carve it
I love the way you write
I love ...

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One day, I would love to sign my name
be wildly proud to autograph a volume
My words printed there in glorious black ink
Type-set, spell-checked and bar-coded
head-shot just inside the hard cover…

And the girl opposite says she loves my work
the way it resonates with her own feelings
gives a voice to what has gone unsaid
she and her beau read them at night

I’d be be one step closer to...

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Poets are renowned for navel gazing and being introspective. Here are three poems to prove the point. But hey, all navels need an occasional inspecting now and then. :)

The Unpublished Poet

He took a clipboard and a ballpoint pen.

He sat in the sun and then …..

He gazed at the sky, the inexplicable clouds,

Listened to trees sigh, untranslatable tones,

Thought of all that he...

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Poetry about Real People - The power of poetry in hospice care 

There is a tension between the advance of medical science, that pursues its ability to fix and treat, and an acceptance of the natural order of death and how that may be experienced. Atul Gawande, a surgeon and health researcher, has reignited this debate with his book 'Being Mortal' (and also presented the 2014 Reith Lectures on B...

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https://youtu.be/ZYTq97CreoQ

To all you writers and poets out there.

Thank you for your words of courage, 

words of truth,

words of encouragement

and nourishment.

Thank you for your solidarity,

for lifting us up.

Thank you for breaking ground,

cutting the edge,

standing on that soapbox 

with daring and drive,

having the nerve to shout out

what many ...

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I need to buy tablet pen tips

Forty two hours since my last nap

Forty two thousand taps, scrapes,

And frustrated sighs

How much in sales today?

Can I sleep yet?

Is it enough?

How many strokes across digital canvas

To correct the damage done 

One commission to the next

My heart left these works long ago

Onward, fingers, onward 

Create the things they want to see

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Let my energy flow effortlessly through the wind.

Let it travel the distance,

To make the difference,

Within each person it touches.

Allow those who could not see,

Witness the potential that I carry within.

Let the beauty of my creativity,

Shine like the moon high in the sky.

Like a feather,

Let it flow,

Let it be guided by the wind...

Let it reach it's ...

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Drops of night crash into the sky, bye bye daylight, no more sunlight, say goodnight, darkness falls, the stars stand tall to shine, the artist hour has arrived, imagination now is at its all time high.  

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Let Me Sit Beneath An Old Lamp

Let me sit beneath an old lamp

With its shade tilted at an angle

Tracing my finger along rough paper

Glowing in a yellow light

Lost in worlds of other’s making

Drawn from the ebb and flow of words

Upon a dim-lit page

As evening draws in

Closing around my imagination

Unthreatening, comforting,

Time passing unnaturally

Against t...

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Rubies and Diamonds

To the dreary and the lonely,

To the cautious and the weary,

To the listless and enlightened minds,

Let them hear what my words describe,

Through humble prophets speaks The King,

Who urges and pushes for The Reckoning,

Answer your soul for it is beckoning,

Cast away shadows,

Cast away strife,

You must answer your soul,

And answer your ...

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So I hear from you all that he has died,
the man that touched so many lives.
He has not left you in your heart,
now it's time to do your part,
keep his music alive through the dark.
His shining light will never depart.
He left a legacy to show,
his wishes for those who know.
Never let your creativity die,
From the starman waiting in the sky.

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They say home is where the heart is

and my heart is where the art lives.

So where is my home?

Art lives within us all

and begins an internal/external exchange...

a process

like humanity to trees.

We stop, relax, breathe

as one.

So where is my home?

First Contact was my spiritual home

gave meat and marrow to

broken sp...

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