I Was Made


Image Credit: Pr. Stavroula Zoumboulis
Image Credit: Pr. Stavroula Zoumboulis


– For my Nona

I remain seemingly alone, unassuming, on a fringe lush and tender. Day-by-day cars whizz me by; as strangers we remain. The world of smiles and laughter, youthful chatter, bouncing life – like Eagles flying, unstoppable, dynamic – and life passes me by. Children take hold of my branches bare, lifting themselves to greater heights. Older folk, picking the wildest of greens, lean on my trunk taking yet one more breath. Those in between, by my side rest, in the shade of my leaves, seeking respite from the tyranny of dreams. And I dream to be like them, to walk and run and fly.

dare I take a step?
roots hold me fast to the earth –
for I was made a tree

Sometimes we are disabled, whether it by by illness, unfulfilled dreams or factors beyond our control. It is hard to watch while the rest of the world gets on with it seemingly happy, successful and fulfilled. Yet even then we have something to offer. The fruit of such suffering, like the humble earth, holds and nurtures all that settles on it often giving birth to new life where there was none.

The photo was taken by a dear friend of mine outside the village of Sellas in the Peloponnese (Greece), many thanks for the inspiration ūüôā



Remembering Footsteps

Image Credit: Anja Partin
Image Credit: Anja Partin

The grass soft and prickly, running along train tracks. Soaring on two wheels, falling through the cracks. Sunlight peaks through leaves, piercing outer shells. Delightful squeals of laughter, spontaneous tales of old. Muted dusk the day after, quiet soles fall on the porch. Snuggle into bed, tucked tight;sweet dreams my child, sleep well, goodnight.

cries the depths of night
where young footprints left their mark –
Tenderness e’er lives

Written for Haibun Thinking in response to the Art Prompt by Anja Partin. The prompt reminded me of my childhood memories. As a child my mum would take my brothers and I out to play at the park and I remember her telling us stories before bed and her sitting on the front porch on summer nights enjoying a port with my aunty as my brothers, cousins and I would ride our bikes up and down the streets.

The Colour of Adversity



juicy sap bleeds, cries
manipulation maims, yet
violence slays death –

hollow walls’ seduction falls
away ‚Äėfore the face of life



Written for Heeding Haiku With HA: Random Words. The challenge is to write a haiku/tanka using three random words. Many thanks to my three friends who provided me with a word each: juicy, seduction and manipulation. The picture was taken in Crete, I was amazed to find this olive tree growing within a small room of a dilapidated monastery.


It Takes But One

The iron watched over them;
it always did

Its cold hard face turned away
feigning disinterest
whilst the crooked wood
stretched out its arms

tiny flowers delicate
fought against the weeds
which would slowly
strangle them
to death

As they all resigned quietly
one flower turned
and faced the crooked wood
throwing it a smile…

’twas then
it came
to life


‘Tis all unexpected really. Shells dig deep into my feet. Stinging blood seeps through layers of sand compact. I run along the soft wetness,¬†arms outstretched, trying to catch the wind as the band plays in the background; drums beating, trumpets singing, feet tapping. Spiralling round and round, I hit the ground and the wet waves wilfully wrap me up.¬† Whisk me away, O fearful waves, to tear-filled graves, that I may swim again.

awkward textures chase
running up, down and around –
that joyful sorrow


Written for Heeding Haiku With HA: Instinctual Thoughts and Raw¬†Creations.¬† I really enjoyed writing this one.¬† I just wrote whatever came to mind at the time, don’t know what it means yet!


On the Platform


Image Credit: Angela Elliot
Image Credit: Angela Elliot


Little girl waiting
For the train to come
For the rain that rumbles
Fallen clouds that strum:

“Destination ‘Hoped For’
So very far from sight
Train tracks sure to take you
Disappear, take flight.

How will you ever get there
To that place of joy
That you forever dream of
In sleep and wake so coy?”

Looks she here
Looks she there
To the sky
She throws a prayer.

Down below in Hades’ delight
Deception grants a case
As empty as it’s promises
With lies and dirt does lace:

“Try so hard to look your best
Trains take none but the lovely
Do not miss it, it comes but once,
¬†Or you’ll be ever lonely.”

A tear drops down, the air is thin
A horn sounds from afar
The train passed by ’cause¬†she missed-took
a black hole for a star.



Written for Photo Challenge #23 ‚ÄúLunchbox‚ÄĚ .



The Humility of Not Knowing


Clouds pass by


A gentle breeze

strokes fine

golden stalks


The sun rises

and it falls

The same day comes

and then

it goes


And all is at peace



That which is not

is a drop

in the ocean of that which is;

For there are

many gifts


And the rain to-s

and fro-s

The faces come

and then

they go


And all is still



A haze sultry sleeps

releasing delight

of apparent monotony;


a lot quite


And the joys come

and then

they go

yet the blessings

never slow


And all about

we are blooming.