Honest And Hard Earned

A farm girl decided to survive in a big city.
She tried all decent work to bring in income
to pay for their daughter’s education,
so she would not need to follow her footsteps.

She sold rubber sandals in the market.
She mixed cement, dug trenches
and laid bricks on construction sites.

She is 5 feet tall in sun tanned skin.
She rode on a 28 inch wheel bicycle
carrying an ice box filled with ice blocks.
She waited outside her daughter’s school
in many scorching summer afternoons.
Children swamped out the school gate
at the sound of the bell.
That was the best time of her sales.
Children were reaching their hands high
to pay for the ice blocks.
It looked like a vigorous bidding scene.

She barely kept up to collect the coins
while giving out the ice blocks.
Yet her eyes always spotted her little girl
once she appeared outside the school gate.
She reached into the bottom right corner of the ice box
to retrieve the special perfectly frozen vanilla ice block,
handing it to her daughter standing on the sideline.
She never kept any eye contact though,
for the fear of the children would laugh at
her little girl has a mother working as a petty street vendor.

She received great education opportunities
from her mother’s hard labour and vision.
Every time she sucks on a vanilla ice block,
her mother’s sun tanned forehead
soaked with hot summer sweat
comes into her mind.
The melting ice block,
her melting heart,
shows up as streams of tears
she is too proud to hold back.

– dedicated to my mother

Code Word

Living Poetry prompt – Picnic

Prosecco in the chiller
French brie with rice crackers
Carrot and celery sticks
We were off to a picnic!

We walked a mile
deep into the curve
of the sandy bay
passed the nude beach
waved at saggy breasts and balls

We set up the sun tent
spent a Sunday morning
making out
But we told everyone
that “We are off to a picnic!”

My Eyes Behold You

He is goofy
and into Motown music
He got an old soul
like the oud wood
trailing behind long after
he left the room

I often
stand in a distance
look at him
through a stained glass
church window

At best
I manage to make out his silhouette
I see him
through and through

Simple Life

He is
a philosopher
a writer
a humanist
an advocate

The world swims
in his thoughts

Love coils
within his brain cells

He is somewhat
confine in few

He looks

He enjoys
the simplest things
holding her hand
in the rain
kissing her
with sunshine in their eyes
being with

Pushcart Prize Nomination


We are the first born of this land 
But we are cursed
We are the tail of everything

Our land was robbed
Our blood was tainted
Our children were stolen
Our identity was denied

We bury generations of grief
Into drunken days and nights

Our refuge is the dreaming
Under the watch of our sky father
The only place we are the first
And his favourite

Writer’s notes: This poem is about the Australian First Nation Peoples (the Aboriginal Australians) who continue to suffer from the oppressed and persecuted past. 

Publication – The Short of It Volume II

I am honoured to be included in this volume. I love succinct language. Here, cheers to Susi and all the contributing writers. Available for purchase here.

Reflections & Revelations

Amusement Park

Freshwater beach, Sydney northern beaches, Australia

Cotton candies hung high in the sky
Balancing on our surf boards
we throw our arms in the air
hoping to pull them right down
and taste our childhood again
in this amusement park
floating on a bed of turquoise dreams

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