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 🙂



At First Breath


ants playfully work
tree branches lie still
short nights awaking

lively leaps and bounds of joy
fawns nuzzling ‘gainst the sunshine

Written for Heeding Haiku With HA: A Change in Season and Yourself. As I am in the Southern Hemisphere, my tanka is set in late spring to early summer. I also find that the change in weather brings a change in me, and conversly, a change in me often brings a change in weather!

Those Times


We basil and thyme
to each other wave
motions up-and-down
By currents tied
as the sun-shine
hugs us warm
Here we sit
basil and thyme
happy to be

Inspired by the story Now I remember why, by Stuart M. Perkins. The times that I have enjoyed the most have been spent with friends, informally gathered, discussing the ins and outs of life and having a good laugh! Those times became the foundations of life-long friendships, though I can’t for the life of me remember what we talked about. They are and continue to be my most treasured moments. I look forward to many more simple, uneventful ‘times’ for myself and for all people everywhere.



open tomb the sea
a fading star walks the night –
justifying the path

as is the darkness, so the light
formed in secret, set alight


Written for Heeding Haiku With HA: Drop your haiku somewhere! This week we were asked to write a haiku/tanka and leave it in a random place for someone to find. I left mine in someone’s kitchen, but it’s pretty high up and I’m wondering whether anyone will ever find it. Knowing my luck it will probably fall to the ground, get swept up and thrown into the bin! 

The poem itself was inspired by one of my favourite psalms.  When reading it my thoughts turned to the star which travels through the darkness of life, whose light has faded.  Looking down on the world, which is like a raging sea – an  open tomb – it tries to justify the path that it has taken, simply by staying on it.  Determined not to give up, it hopes in the light whose strength is just as strong (if not stronger) than the darkness.  Though it was formed in secret, before our time when we were unaware, it will be set a light for all to see.


Living Tapestry



rain drops stir from sleep

colours divers weave and sing –

making room for all



Written for Heeding Haiku with Ha – A Haiku Moment. The prompt is to listen to the music, feel what it has to say to you and then write a haiku. Listening to this piece I could hear the distinct sound of both instruments and yet they came together beautifully and seamlessly. The harp reminded me of raindrops falling on dusty, lonely ground. In the eye of my mind, the voice of the violin was like streams of bright colours weaving through the air and the trees. The idea captured In the haiku is that although we are all unique, we have the potential to come together as a seamless whole, in a place where everyone belongs, both great and small. In doing so, we arise from our bed of idleness and despondency, because we realise that we are in fact not alone.


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.



In a quiet suburban street lies a small block of land; modest, somewhat unkempt. People pass it by, day-by-day, yet it remains unnoticed by most.  Fine yellow-green stems, waist-high, stand somewhere between life and death. As the breeze channels through it’s brittle stalks, gentle whispers fill the field. Anyone who walks it’s breadth feels at peace, whilst those who dare to venture into its depths know they are safe to just be. “Closed little lot of crumpled earth! But who would hazard a walk on a hidden land unswept? To level you down and raise up stories, to tear out all of your morning glories?  Or perhaps to bury within your soil rich, seeds to yield; wealth to make the heart grow yonder?

field plain and simple
odd markings unrecognised –
potentially claimed


Written for Prompt #76 “Self-Portrait”. The challenge is to write about yourself through the eyes of someone else. I found this was an impossible task as I don’t know how people really see me. However, I was saved by a friend who informed me that there are old Greek grannies going around telling handsome young men that they should consider taking me as their wife because apparently I have inherited properties from my predecessors! (Hehe, why hadn’t I thought of it sooner? Emoji ) Thus the metaphor…