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.

Wisdom

Older and wiser
Acting more silly



Unintended Strategy

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



Love

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



Cracked

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
and
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.

Table for Three

I try to look through the foggy glass windowpane to a far away escape.
My agony drown in the absence of tears and apologies.
Questions rushing through my fragile mind.
The endless waiting, the future without our past, the changed heart without warning, the intrusion of our love, all these heartaches I can’t put into words…

Thank you MasticadoresIndia for publishing one of my short writing pieces. And thank you Terveen for the summary notes in the comment section. I am honoured if you would visit, read the full story and explore more good writings on their site.

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. 

2030

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

Once upon a time

I get to know Alana
she wears leopard print dress
and flaming red nails
she plays the keyboard
in broad daylight
to fight off the blues

We talk about girly stuff
skin exfoliation
hydration mask
hair tossing
and stiletto heels

She tells me about Alan
in corroboree
he wore coloured feathers
and ornamental coverings
he painted white and red bands
across his chest

Alana doesn’t go to corroboree anymore
she cannot bear to see herself
in Alan’s persona with
bare chest and hairy body
she misses her mob
and the land

It is easier to talk about
the Summer makeup trend
balayage hairstyle
slimming corset
and hot pink toes

Writer’s note: This poem was published in Australian Poetry Journal. It highlighted the struggle of being a transgender Aboriginal Australian. They are up against the disapproval of their mobs and elders. The constant feeling of the need to live a double life often adds the stress and mental strain, and subsequently has a negative impact on their mental health.