Poetry Blogs (growing-up)

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Ode On A Cold Shower

I’m not a little girl anymore.

I take off my sleeping Beauty costume

and go in.

No more hiding,

No more waiting.


I have no prince to save me.

I wear no golden shield.

No protection.

No  golden sword

To defend myself. 


I’m naked.


I’m exposed.


You threaten me.

I hear the drops:

Drip, drip.

You’re calling me.


My body ...

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a feather called "macaroni"

This is about "living life to the max;" a smidgen of humour is required to get full enjoyment of this poem. Cheers!


Live life to the max, it's a good way to be -
methinks the first mac I may have ever encountered
is a popular fellow to kiddies, called Old Macdonald
who had a rather lively and musical farm
now follows a yummy collection of food
from baked mac to mac & cheese

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30 Steps


The city is drenched in gold tonight
The sea is silver, like my temples
My hands feel older now than ever
But my mind and my grip is so much surer
Than back when I was younger;
I've run from love when it got tough
My hair was bleached in boiling light
I helped as many people as I could
Still, my thoughts were darkened in the wilderness
Felt alone in crowds of s...

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