Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Greater good

in secure
it becomes
for outsiders
to be
in, so curiosity
leads us
to ask
whether we should
in, so curating
for the other,
such that
they can be apart
and still
a part
of what
we offer
in so curing
the world
of its follies
we need

About this piece

I don't normally give too much information about the subject matter of a poem, but it's important to me that you understand that this one describes the tendency for privileged members of society to ignore the plight of others in favour of imposing their own views. It was first published on


It’s not a case of there or not-there; it’s always there.
You can’t switch it off.
You can tune it out, but it’s still there.

You can pretend it’s not, but it is.

You can’t tone it down, defining it in physical terms of no relevance:
it’s an electricity thing, it’s a magnetism thing, it’s a chemistry thing.
It’s no thing at all.

But that doesn’t mean it’s nothing. Oh, it’s something, alright.

You can try to turn it into something it’s not:
doll it up, or pare it back, or add a fine glimmer of mystery.
It’s unchanged.

Always has been. Always will be.

You can’t segregate portions of it and assign those parts labels
like you try to do with people. It’s not like people.
It doesn’t even lie or cheat or steal or war. It doesn’t do anything.

It just is.

You can feel its warmth and you can see its glow but
you can’t contain it. It’s already got a home.
You can try to make it mean something more—but how could it?

It already means everything.

About this piece

I wrote this in response to a Medium piece, at the end of which the writer asked for our thoughts. It was first published there, too.

Wednesday, October 12, 2016


Some mornings we make breakfast,
some mornings we make love and
some mornings make no sound, they just
slip by unnoticed while we make what we can
out of what we have — not much, but enough.

Some days, this world gets too much
and I want to cry out for you but I don’t dare
seek you because you’re already too much
for me, and even when you’re all I want
you’re not my everything — but you are enough.

You can never be my everything;
I won’t let you be my everything,
but if everything else was taken away,
I’d be okay, if you were all that remained —
if you were all I had, you’d be enough.

About this piece

I wrote this poem in response to what I believe is one of society's most foolish myths: that my lover should be my everything. It was linked to an essay I wrote at the same time, with the rather long title I don’t want you to be my everything. I just want you to be enough.

Enough was first published on, where it was also featured in the Reading Roulette curated collection on 12 October 2016.

Saturday, October 08, 2016

Muse…a double acrostic tanka

Prisms shape my flow
of fond memories into
each awaiting ear,
mirrors to my soul, dated
symbols, created in dreams.

About this piece

I wrote this in response to the second Poetry in Form prompt on, and that's where it was first published.

Tuesday, October 04, 2016

Thunderstorm…an acrostic Parallelogram de Crystalline

Carry me
up with you, soaring on
majestic wings and rushing voices.
lust wells up and crashes
over me, tide of turbulent air.
Numb inside,
I tumble down again,
made heavy by your Antarctic words.
Building me
up always ends with me
sublimating to nothing once more.

About this piece

This poem is the first in Weather Our Souls, a series exploring weather patterns and elements as metaphors for the human condition and our relationships. There are few single-stanza poetic forms with the 12 lines I wanted for this acrostic; the cyclic nature of the Parallelogram de Crystalline suited my image of a relationship that grows and breaks down like rain or hail in a cumulonimbus. Thunderstorm was first published on

Saturday, October 01, 2016


as possessed by Rose, and used on her owner (me)

It melts my heart,

that way you look at me,
those big brown pools I see,
the way you seem to be

a work of art;

but then you fart—

it hovers in a haze,
it leaves me in a daze;
you never break my gaze—

you little tart.

About this piece

I first published this on You're not meant to take it too seriously!

Thursday, September 29, 2016


Look —
skittering downtown…
frosty, windblown, grass-laden hill
bald on top, much like the one who brought me here to run.

About this piece

I spent my last night in deluxe boutique accommodation just outside Queenstown, which prompted this Fib poem.

First published on

Friday, September 02, 2016

Flamingo…a trib-Fib

Three Cupcakes, by Elegantly Frosted

layers — 
decadence — 
swirling dark ganache,
floating, fluffy buttercream clouds,
morsels of delight: each Elegantly Frosted bite.

Ice Cream Sundae cupcakes,
by Elegantly Frosted (Instagram)

About this piece

Tonight I wrote a trib-Fib to the delectable cakes you can get from Elegantly Frosted. Trib-Fib is a name I came up with to describe a Fib poem written as a tribute. A Fib poem has syllable counts based on the Fibonacci sequence.)

First published on