Wednesday, February 27, 2013


If there was a road,
would you walk upon it?
If you had a coat,
would you don it?
Perhaps this is what you were waiting for,
an adventure knocking at your door.
So grab your bags and pack them light.
You'll be far from home tonight.
If the journey of your life was about to begin,
Right now,
Would you join in?

From One Sense

It was too sweet. A kind of "scraping your tongue against your teeth" sweetness. The taste almost had its own texture purely from the strength of the flavour; a sticky gooeyness that stemmed from one's mouth's desperate attempt to rid the ode to sugar with a flood of saliva.

The light has its own halo. Amid the dark of the night, it shines an aura across one's vision. Needle thin fingers reaching out from the origin, trying to overcome the blackness that surrounds it. Multiple strands scatter their way across the space, blinding and overwhelming.

Saturday, February 23, 2013

These Lies I Lie Behind

Multiple Views

Dry leaves left over from autumn rest wedged between smooth round stones. The myriad of textures create soft shadows that seep through the crevices between the rocks. The golden brown of the leaves drape over the steely blue, speckled creamy white, and streaked and spattered grey of the pebbles; seeking refuge. 

Dead leaves upon rocks. Temporary existence upon permanence. In winter, the remnants of soft green foliage wither away in dry and cracking pieces on top of smooth, dirt dusted pebbles that have endured decades of change of seasons. The thin veins that once provided nutrients to the leaf rise starkly against the decaying bits. 

In death, the drying curves of the leaf curl inwards, reaching for the center of the vein that once fed it life. It is brighter than its surroundings, perhaps trying to cling onto the sunlight it once thrived in. There is a smooth grey stone rising from the shadows. It is time to claim the leaf as one of the inanimate. 


Saturday, February 16, 2013

Rise, Burn, Fade, Fall (New Shoots Submission)

This poem is quite special. It is consists of three words per line. Each word on its own is both a noun and a verb. 


Fire fans out
Sparks jump, rises
Air feeds flame
Burns, spreads, lives
Light bursts open
Licks tips, singes
Size, shape, shifts
Flickers, dies down
Shrinks, fades, falls
Black smoke lifts