Torn Edges

As pieces of me

Lie shredded

against the banks

of the past,

I look at myself

In a reflection

And wonder how much

Of the old me is left.

How much am I leaving behind,

What’s going to patch up

these torn edges?

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Ode to Soul Savers

You are a gift
To my soul,
For you water it
With an essence
That only spills
From your lips.
You shimmer it
With a light
That doesn’t cast
A shadow,
And yet
leaves others
and myself feeling
Just as safe
As if we were hiding
In the shade.

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A Vision of You (I)

There you are again,

As I find myself back pedaling

Whilst you are turned aside.

We are heading

In separate directions,

Away from the end of something special

Well, maybe just for me.

But this is not the end,

I say it in my head

And politely ask it of you

In my imaginary voice.

You must be someone

Who’s come from above,

For as I thought this prayer

I swear you could hear it.

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Inspired by the words of the wonderful, Himani 🙂 

My search has me
Wandering in circles.
For years I’ve wondered
Why this is?
Why is it that we,
Who search for the wonder of love
Always seem to finish where we start.
Love seems to be the journey
To finding those first footsteps
We left in the sand,
All those years ago.

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So Long, Leonard

This poem is dedicated in memory of Leonard Cohen. One of the Great ones. 


I can smell
the cigarette
in your voice.
The shade of dark blue you wear,
so dark
it’s almost black,
is the vision I
When I close my eyes.
And within
the depths of this blue
I see smoke
And I am reminded
of how much
you loved them.
You treated them
Like children,
So tenderly
was the way
they emanated from you,
I hope
the place you’ve gone to
Is as blessed as we have been
to be swayed by your words.


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I’ve collected the past,

Bottles upon bottles of it.

Now and then,

I pick one of them out,

Unscrew its lid,

Place it on my lips

And get drunk

On the memories

Of you and I.

When I’m done with one,

I grab yet another,

For the intoxication

Of days past

Only makes me want them more.

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They say I’m too soft,

That there aren’t enough rough edges

On this shape of mine.

I hear them

Say all of this,

And it feels like

The hammer and the mallet

Are only moments

Away from striking me

Into things people wish to see.

My biggest fear

Is losing all the poetry

This softness carries.

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Some More

I could

write and write and write 

And still there would

Be space and more

on paper,

hand and fingers willing,

For me to write about you

some more.

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Fracturing The Light


Parts of the bed where
The light beams streak across
Are merely markers for where
You and I are meant to be.
It’s a sort of beginning,
And sort of end.
This is where we become
Children once again,
Tackling each other
whilst fracturing the light.


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A poem I wrote for a friend whom I absolutely hate saying goodbye to. 

Every anxious breath

I take,

feels like the ocean

swelling as it heaves, heavily,

The salt in it’s lungs.

And yet here you come

Once in a while,

To ease the weight

And break through the brine,

The churning waves,

making me forget

The stinging in my chest.


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