Impossible Love

I don’t know
why I always love the impossible

I am incapable of loving the possible

I interpret love
to be an impossible notion

An imperfect soul
chases the impossible perfection

My Reasoning

You didn’t live in my yesterdays.
You love me today.
I don’t see you in my tomorrows.

Isn’t love enough?
It isn’t enough when it doesn’t last.

How do you know it won’t last.
I saw your eyes.
They wandered.


A Woman Can Dream

I don’t want to be awake
from a field of yearning tulips
under the indigo violet sky

I want to stay dreaming of
a future of you and me
in earnest paint brush strokes
waterfalls of poetry


Fading Love

It starts all over again.
The candle light is drowning
in a pool of waxy I love yous.
Silence is the inevitable ending.


close up of tea light candle against black background
Photo by George Becker on

Romeo and Juliet

This is a poetry and painting collaboration with emerging Sydney Painter Virginia Bucknell


demands absolute devotion

The stage
decorated with charisma and wit

Wild possession
seized by concealed undercurrent

let it downpour in crimson

gravitates towards eternity


Oil painting ‘Love Story’ by Virginia Bucknell, you may see more of Virginia’s paintings via: Art Lovers Australia  Weebly   Instagram

South Pole

Our naive determination
to become citizens of Antarctica
to imitate the penguins
and the hourglass dolphins
live in a world of desert
without camels

We are like albatrosses
a perfect icon
for the virtues of marriage
on perspex display

Our hearts live in the same
uninhabitable curve
filled with summer daylight
and cold
drenched in winter darkness
and colder

I wonder
where do we go from here
except going around in circles
of South Pole


standing two black and white penguins
Photo by Jean van der Meulen on

Lover’s Concerto

I keep
a patch of springy grass
for you
in delight
next to me
a bed of luscious green
free of brown needle pines
in the shape of a romantic heart
the ocean caresses us
in soft piano key strokes
how about
we pull down the cloud
from the turquoise sky
to shield us from
the sweep of autumn wind
into our sweet concerto of love


She reminded him of pastel colours
sea green eyes
fresh peachy cheeks
rose petal lips
raspberry kisses
lavender scent

When she was happy
his world was a field of lilacs
When she was annoyed
her kisses tasted lemon
When she was sad
smoke filled their home

Everything about her
was softer
veiled by her gentleness

When she walked out
his trenchant emotions
He repainted their story
with a blaze of fire

Thoughts on Old Photos VIII

Semi teases
Some year some day
Still she will wait here
Shall I quit searching for love

Photographed by Joe Femia

Hearts and Paper Aeroplane

Collaboration with Jonathan Swift Pines

Photo from


No, I’m not claiming that I always write.
When I do, my heart’s like a jar -sealed tight.
And when it pops ajar, you hear it “thump.”

No, I don’t think I always love you right.
When I do, my soul swells like puppy eyes.
When I write, I snort happily for you.

When I’m bad, I’m bad. When I’m good, I’m good.
I’d love to love you right now, if I could.
But if I’m astray, please try tomorrow.

When I’m sad, I write. When I’m loved, I write.
I’d love to store you in my sealed tight jar.
Only let out happiness than sorrow.

Sorry, love, but this is our last “goodnight.”
I’m not always honest in all I write.
So keep your happy times safe and sealed tight.
Don’t let a dreamer like me steal your heart. . .