Coming soon…

You will read my poem(s) in this collection later this month. For now, please enjoy Gabriela’s preface.

Preface of Hidden in Childhood

“If you open the pages of this poetry collection, you will be mesmerized by the talent of the contributors, and by the range of stylistic approaches they use to recreate the world of childhood.  It must be said from the beginning that this is not a poetry collection for children. The pages you will read memorialize the beauty and magic of childhood – remembrance of love and fairytales – as well as its ugliness – abuses, poverty – that unfortunately still exist in our world. Some of the authors of the poems included in this anthology were brave enough to talk about the pain they endured in childhood. I salute all contributors: those who tell the world that childhood is love, and those who still bear the wounds of a difficult childhood…”

Butterfly Love, The Origin of Love

Reading of two poems: Butterfly Love by Jeff Flesh; The Origin of Love by Cassa Bassa

Butterfly Love

I rise from the ashes of past

with a ladle of love in my right hand
and butterflies alighting on my left

thinking about the trees dwelling within me,
how they do always seem

lost in times of chaos, yet they
keep me warm

tangled emotions
cutting deep within, where love and pain
are perfect twins

and life is lived beneath the texture of your skin

The Origin of Love

I sit in the quiet
underneath the white oak
watch the rain rolling from my left
edging the sun towards my right

Isn’t that what grief does to us
chipping away the simple things we enjoy

I remain sitting under the tangled arms
unshaken, unmoved, undisturbed

Here is my sanctuary
and centre of gravity
where we once hid from the world’s chaos
and found each other
locked gaze
in awe

The Short of It

I mostly write short poetry, so it is fitting that my four short poems have been published by Susi’s the short of it.


Older and wiser
Acting more silly

Unintended Strategy

She’s always his unrequited.
That’s how she won him over.


I love you most
When you say very little
And do what’s needed
To keep me smiling


I drink too much
Because I cannot bear
To see my sober self
In the mirror
It reminds me of
Every bit of
what’s wrong with me
The day you left

The Great Escape

She packed two silk dresses
seven different red lipsticks
caught the midnight train
to Paris

The rhythm of train lulled her
to the memory of yesterdays

She was cut off from the world
that she once lived in vibrancy
by a pair of cruel hands clasped around her neck
deceiving her as a silk tie but deadly
Light went out of her in that luxurious villa
Her shadow ghost roamed among the Spanish antique furniture
and priceless artworks

She pressed her pale face
on the tan sandstone wall
longing for the sun to rescue her
She envied the robins sang freely in the midst of bluebells and primroses

The night was starless
But she saw Van Gogh’s cafe de nuit
and smelled the roses wrapped in newspaper
resting casually on the table
by a café allongé
The soft song of J’en connais
calling her home

* This poem was included in Wounds I Healed, published by EIF, edited by Gabriela Milton.

#Publication – The Poets Symphony (re-promotion)

The Poets Symphony
Verses, Melodies, and Lyrical Poems
Published by Raw Earth Ink in 2020
Available at Angus & Robertson, Dymocks, Amazon, Lulu

I have read this anthology again recently, and I feel it’s worth mentioning again. 💚

The First Is The Last

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. 


This poem was published in Social Justice Inks Anthology by Lisa Tomey’s Prolific Pulse Press, available for purchase on Amazon.

An old woman took her granddaughter to the mall. 

She wanted to buy her little girl a lollipop. 

The shopkeeper asked her to pay at the facial recognition machine. 

She was too poor to own a digital device,  

too helpless to be tech savvy, 

and she only scraped by using the money in a biscuit tin. 

The shopkeeper told her that business could not accept cash payment anymore, 

for the public health order said it all. 

She pleaded with the shopkeeper saying they were clean and healthy. 

All she wanted was a good old days’ reward for her granddaughter. 

The little girl looked up to her tear-filled eyes, 

“Nana, you are the sweetest thing in the whole wide world, 

more than all the lollies in the shop. 

Our papa in heaven knows we are clean. 

Let’s go and play in the sun!” 

Writer’s notes: This poem is about the future of digitised technology and human passport segregate the society and continue to drive vulnerable group of people to be the outcast. 

This Used to Be My Playground

*This poem was published in May 2020 in The Poets Symphony by Raw Earth Ink.

We never had a photo together
yet I remember every expression of you
I have never returned the books you left on my book shelf
the only ones without dust

Silent night has never been peaceful
since I heard your car burned into flames
on the highway with extra snow
buried your seventeen years old charred body

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to whenever I was in need of a friend
Why did it have to end

I have never been able to say goodbye to you
maybe that is why nothing good had been with you

You left me a letter before you boarded the plane
You know I have never opened it to this day
Nothing matters really since the day you’ve been gone

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to whenever I was in need of a friend
Why did it have to end

Nothing is as pure as childhood sweethearts
No love is sweeter than sweet sixteen

I dream of you still in black and white
Your linen shirt flying on the swing
Your manic laughter on the seesaw

This used to be my playground
This used to be my childhood dream
This used to be the place I ran to whenever I was in need of a friend
Why did it have to end

There is no he will ever replace you
in the land of the living
You are my perfection
my first
and my destiny

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