Category Archives: Poetry

Walking with a stranger

canstock0379044She was on my left, between me and the river.

Feeling warmth on my neck but my guilt made me shiver.

Undeserved, she was innocent. It’s just one of those things.

Her eyes are an empty vessel filling with danger.

Holding hands in hope, I walk with a stranger.

Written as part of Morgen’s Online Poetry Writing Group


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A poem from a man who feels like the only way to help is to pray for Sydney



He waits alone, not knowing what the day will bring. Not knowing himself if he’ll sink or sing.

He reads each line and every part. A dimly lit platform matched by his heart.

Sirens sit silently, the commotion is over. Luck means less than a four leaf clover.

A cafe visitor cum hostage is such a short space. With full media coverage it’s right in our face.

His train is delayed but it’ll come and he’ll board. Meanwhile he’ll pray for Sydney beginning with Dear Lord.

Reach out to someone if you’re hurting or reach put to someone else if you think they’re hurting. Yesterday’s hostage situation didn’t highlight the need to debate religion but it did show the dire need for community. Be strong Sydney

Risen indeed

Part 3 in a 3 piece Easter series


It’s been three days,

my heart, it aches.

I loved him so dearly

I pray he wakes.

He was the one,

I’m sure it was him.

Without his light,

the world is dim.

He’s alive!

the words ring

Jesus, my LORD

I do sing!

He is risen,

he is love,

God’s son

from above



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“Good” Friday

Part 2 of a 3 piece Easter poetry series


Friday, the end of the week but a good start.Corss

The day will forever stand apart.

A man thrown before an angry mob, then sentenced to his death.

Beaten, stoned, whipped and jeered. They laughed, he took last breath.

Bloody Friday, wicked Friday; surely anything but good.

An innocent man betrayed, nailed to some wood.



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Part 1 of a 3 piece Easter series


No ceremony, flashing lights or loud speakers,Palm

he rode the equivalent of wearing old sneakers.

It would have been slow and smelt a little bit,

but the king of the world didn’t mind it.

They dance and sang, palms waving in the crowd,

caught off guard, Jesus was subtle and humble not loud and proud.


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Fleet | Seat | Retreat

If I could turn back time;
not just me hearing Cher?
Looking back thirty years,
some are dark, others clear.
If I went back,
it’d be for the good.
Enjoying laughter and joy
like everyone should.
But live is a blessing,
we get only one.
So I’ll stay here thinking,
of all that I’ve done.

Part six in a poetry series called Life

Daily prompt: If I Could Turn Back Time


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You’ve been given a name,
whether you like it or not.
And you’ll be given more,
no doubt it’ll be ugly or hot.
Whatever may happen,
or how sad you become.
Don’t let these labels,
define you or what you’ve done

Part five in a poetry series called life.

Daily prompt: The power of names


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She holds on because she’s told to 

and because she feels secure 

Dad holds on because he fears 

and because of his love for her 

He fears the day she says goodbye 

“I don’t need ten hugs a day” 

She doesn’t see past sundown 

He envies her in this way


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Life will throw us  many curve balls,
some slow, some wide and some too fast.
But will also serve up hot meals,
providing fuel that will last.
It is this warmth that we must see,
acknowledge that it exists.
Enjoy, savor and let it be,
an experience not to miss
Part four in a poetry series called life



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On duty

Seasons will surely pass on by
and only some will bring joy.
During my winters I will cry,
but with my summers, oh boy!
Take the good with the bad I will
keep fighting, never do I bend.
Through falling leaves and frost until,
My duty comes to the end.

Part 3 of a poetry series called Life and a response to The Daily Prompt


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