Thursday, October 28, 2010

To my second daughter

To My Darling Daughter,
Can you believe it?  I've had  a flip around.  I've realised that having children around you is just the BEST thing!  It makes you feel so alive doesn't it?!  Who would've thought?!  And all those years I regretted having you four!!!  All those times I lamented the loss of my youth to fatherhood. Life's funny like that isn't it.
Your loving father.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010


What an amazing thing we take for granted. A fresh, new person. Bloody hell. It’s sad really, we start out all fresh and clean and pure and new, and look what we become: Inside and out we become faded and ripped and torn and dirtied and damaged as we pass through our lives. We lie, and steal, and kill, and hate, and hurt, and waste and envy and hunger. Our skin hardens, our hair becomes coarse and then grey, our eyesight fades, our muscles at first become large and powerful but then lose strength and diminish, we develop wrinkles and sunspots and cancers and ... but what am I doing?! I was thinking about how beautiful new life is.


Into the fire she strides deeper
Her body aching.
In a moment which is at once both fleeting and forever,
She is consumed by the flames.
The heat is unbearable.

There is nothing but fire now
Roaring against her.
She pushes on through it,
The world cracking open,
The flames all around her,
Her small body broken.

And just when it seems
As though everything will be destroyed
By the intensity of the flames,
A sudden gush of water
Bursts through the crack in the soil.

Wednesday, October 20, 2010


Sometimes I get distracted... I'll start out just looking up a word and find myself half an hour later, engrossed in my dictionary.


There are weeds growing.
I've raked the soil,
I've tilled the land
I've watered and tended and cared,
There are weeds growing.

Oh, the weeds have lovely flowers,
And I might collect a posy,
And the butterflies dance like children, madly,
But still,
They're just weeds growing.

I should pull them up by the roots, discard them,
But I keep them pressed and flat and perfect,
A memory of the times
There were weeds growing.

The big old oak's not bothered
It's roots are deep and strong,
It does not concern itself with
The fact that
There are weeds growing.

There are weeds growing.
But I will not weed them out,
I like the thorns and butterflies and scattered seeds,
Nobody needs know it.

Dogs and Lambs

Dogs viciously attack their fence lines
Protecting their territories and salivating over carnivorous thoughts.
Lambs wander to the slaughter houses willingly,
Seeing the murder,
But pressing on regardless.
The smell of blood sends the carnivores into states of fervour.
The docile lambs bleat pointlessly.
Down the way,
Cutlets are wrapped in in plastic and sold in supermarkets
For $11.00 per kilo.

Friday, October 15, 2010

The Tree

There is a tree in the back of the garden you may be lucky enough to see.
Its little flowers so blue and lovely are always open to me.
There have been times when I have not watered or cared for my little tree.
But its roots are strong and its branches are sturdy, it never needs pruning.

Way up the back past the trees and the roses is where my lovely tree grows.
Neglect and tempest have never destroyed it but the scars on the branches do show.
So bring your fairy lights, hang them upon it along with the nest of a dove.
See how much lovelier that it grows now when you nourish the soil with love.

It flowers in spring time, it bears fruit in winter, it pleases me all the year through.
It shades me in summer, it's golden in autumn,

My tree is you.

The Encounter

A short story.

 i'm not sure if i've finished... i think i want to continue a little more at the end... to tie up some lose ends...

“Claire! Come on you’ve been in there for hours!”
“Okay! Okay! I’m nearly done!” She calls out above the drumming water of the shower.

And then “...shit!” quietly to herself as she runs the razor over her knee slicing off a neat slither of skin. Bright red blood streaks away with the falling water revealing the tiny white slice in her knee. “Shit, shit, shit!” Shaving and hurrying are not good companions.
She turns the shower taps off and wraps herself up in two towels, one for the body, one for the hair.

“Bathroom’s free Anna!” she calls as she exits through a cloud of steam.
“Shit your knee!” Anna says to her as they pass in the hallway.

There is a streak of blood running from Claire’s knee right down the front of her shin. She dashes into her bedroom and attacks the shaving wound with a box of tissues. She looks at the clock. Five thirty two. That’s okay. Still plenty of time. She presses play on her stereo.

Right so what to wear? She hates this bullshit. Why she’s agreed to go on this date she’s not quite sure. Anna and Jacob and their bloody meddling. Oh but it might be fun, or so Anna keeps telling her. She goes over to her wardrobe but catches sight of herself in the mirror. Her leg is a mess.

She sits on the edge of her bed. She starts to reach for a tissue from the box on her bedside table but changes her mind and opens the top drawer instead. She knows she shouldn’t, not now, but she does anyway. She reaches in and grabs the small metal framed photo of her and Pete from that last summer before chemo.

Read the rest of the story here .