I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver.


Below are a collection of my poems..




‘I’ll make it up to you’ he says, ‘one day, I will repay this kindness’.
He looked off into the future to consider a great deed done.

When all she really wanted was someone that looks at her close enough to see that she really loves fresh flowers.

That’s the funny nature of attention. It always tells the truth.
Where it rests it always a record of a choice.

Looking off into some not yet, maybe never, created future was easier than looking her in the eyes. So, he went on imagining repaying her with the kindness of some great future deed.

When all she really needed was to be seen, and fresh flowers in her house.


Matisse flowers.jpg

Image: Matisse ‘Flower’ – pen, ink and watercolour, Private Collection – 1945



When we plant sunflowers in our yard they grow in all kinds of ways.

Some, that are in the best sunny spots, grow fast and strong.

Some, that are in the dirt that always seems a little too dry, take longer to sprout and more time to find their strength.

Then there are the ones that shoot up from the shade. On reflection I wonder why we planted them there in the first place. Why would you plant seeds in the one place that least benefits their growth?

Even when they flower, these shady seeds, they seem weak and ill equipped to carry the weight of the life they birthed.

Note to self: Pant your seeds in the sun.


Image: Landscape with Butterflies, 1956 by Salvador Dali



Kiss me now
Choose only me.
Choose me like it’s torture not to.
Torture me with kisses.
Then choose to kiss only me,
All over again tomorrow.





It’s here, in the spaces in between
When you are not
Doing nor aiming
That enough time passes
For you to finally start to feel
A direction to face
With a path that calls you
Walk this path
Believe this feeling
That which you truly know
Will not lead you astray.






Come pull up a chair,
I made space for you.
And just like that, the truth became part of her life again.



Fallen petals, unfolded and detached.
The rose, so naturally apathetic to the burden of its on beauty.



We idealise freedom.

Forgetting that to be free means to accept the weakest parts of ourselves.

As life is an affirmation to breath,
Surrender is to living.



This amazing artwork is by Willie Hsu – https://williehsuart.bigcartel.com // @willie_hsu_art



You always arrive with a jolt,
pulling open the curtain that separates dreams from reality
revealing the cold naked reflection of the earth for all to see.

For days, weeks, months and years. For lives.
For some, whole lives are spent with the single goal of creating distance from you.

Elaborate identities, oceans of self, created and recreated and stretched and formed, all without a taste of you present.

How is it so that whole lives can be lived without the crispness of your message spoken? How can it be that a living being can consider a life lived, without having swam in the golden liquid of the silence that follows you?

It is only because of your willingness to disrupt and dismantle the parts that we have created in your defiance, because of your relentless pursuit to break apart and break down every untrue creation of ourselves, that we have the potential of freedom.

You separate the “id” from our identity and all that remains is the entity that holds you; our spirit and this very moment.

– –


Photography by Ruvim Noga – Instagram @ruvimnogaphoto


The power.
The pleasure.
The truth and all that is real.
That which she desired deeply was everything she had never embodied.
She unwound the grasp of the life she had created, untangled it and let it fall. It was only then, she became the power, the pleasure, the truth and all that is real.


Artwork by Alice Pasquini – Twitter @alicepasquini



It’s just us and the stars, she said,
and with that they surrendered and the whole universe was created between them.

Creativity became them, and they knew this was everything.

Alexey Slusar 1961- Ukrainian painter - Flamenco dancers - Tutt'Art@ (47)

Artwork by Ukrainian painter Aлексей Cлюсар

23. 04.2019


She rode her bike around the streets, searching for flowers to take home,
knowing that somewhere, there would be a rose ready to bloom in her presence.
The warmth of the morning sun on her skin, under a full moon sky.
It was the kind of meditation that happens when you don’t try.


Screenshot 2019-06-10 08.26.33.png


Unspoken Understanding

My unspoken knowing
You have access here
Take me where you please
Please me as you will
Lead me on a path
Hold me in your gaze
Unfold the places in me
That know no words
So I may exhale pleasure
And in hale you like morning air.

One thought on “Poetry

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