I knew your sweet smile
I knew your celestial sound
I knew your sensual smell
I knew your subtle savour
I knew your silky skin
now that you’re gone
our fate is sealed by
the art of psychometry

I knew your sweet smile
I knew your celestial sound
I knew your sensual smell
I knew your subtle savour
I knew your silky skin
now that you’re gone
our fate is sealed by
the art of psychometry

break off the commitment leash
jump for joy over the fence
to ever greener pasture
run wild on hills and in valleys
summersault adrenaline ignites every cell
I can breathe!
I can breathe
the wildflowers’ subtlety
the wildfire’s smog
and
the summer love
once more

she has gone so soon
like yesterday’s post delivery
wasn’t open in time
the tea pot is still lukewarm
looks down into the cup half filled
the scent of dry roses from her room
gives away the truth of her absence
grey hair mourners gather pebbles from
the garden she so lovingly tended
the rabbi sings El Maleh Rachamim
all the way to the interment
it gives us immense sense of peace
we place stones around her resting place
so her memory continues to live on
and through us
she has gone so soon from us
like a pleasant surprise
when heaven opens the door
-dedicated to an angel who lost her fight to Bipolar in 2004

Poets are like clowns sometimes
We painted beauty out of wasteland
Clowns expressed humour from despair Sometimes

let’s look up to the sky
to count the miracles of love
before the meteor shower
how love made us
soared among the avalanche
swam in a whirlpool of clouds
poured out composition of
distinctive colour contrasts
from a desolate interior
created masterpieces that
transcend emotions and impact
with buzzing noises
smiled brightly in monochromatic suffering
wept deeply for the oppressed in our triumph
love is boundless
even the shooting stars are
no match for her

when I see your face
my soul sparkles through the crescents
to absorb the mirror image of yours
my wrinkles flee from the past
to foretell the future
when I see your face
my darkest days are merely inconvenience
like a cup of ill-made coffee
my ailing body is just an excuse
to curl up next to you
when I see your face
the world around me dims
to a backdrop of the milky way
when I see your face


Photo taken by Cassa Bassa at Crosslands Reserve, Sydney, Australia
born lacking of a physique for speed
sloth looking
agreed to a race with
a born to run anxious jumpy stick
winning the race was
not by luck
nor by strategy
purely by being one’s self
failure is not guaranteed
to realise that is
an identity affirmation
success is not guaranteed
to accept that is
an achievement in itself
an empty plastic bag
danced in the wind
Fouetté, Grand Jeté, Plié
took a bow
blown away
hung on the tip of a mast
sailed towards sunset horizon
with a distended belly
rolled away
whiplashed by ocean waves
deflated under the
anaemic moon
drifted off

Earnest
Reading
Of
Tantalising
Imagination
Creates
Arousal
