Sunday, 9 January 2011


It is dropping
Into those pebbles
And now I know why I had to walk.
Until my tears mixed with the rain
In a torrent down my poor, tired
Because my heart had stopped.
It broke and it wrenched and it
stopped me from feeling like I could breathe
Until I couldn't say a word because
And every
Was too painful.

Every step hurt.
It hurt my feet and my stitch
and my being
Until the tears couldn't mix with
the rain any more and I was just
On my own.

With every foot forward, my
exhausted mind took two steps
I was on my own still
Walking in a straight line but never having felt so sorry and so twisted.
It tore at me with every
remembrance of every scenario of
every word
Until it turned into a lighter drizzle
That let me take off my hood and
shake my hair loose
And look at the sun and the beauty
behind the rain
And to realise that there is so
much to see.
Even when you feel like there
might be no more good and no
more beauty beyond this pain,
there is light and there is colour
and there is a smile,

Friday, 15 October 2010

By Paul

Would it really be nice if we were older?

I think no.

I don't mind waiting so long.

Thursday, 16 September 2010

My Night Sky

It had drawn a line across my sky
And when I turned, there was another
Splitting it into a magic 4 and
telling me that everything was
going to be just fine.

Thursday, 19 August 2010

Based on 'Mattens', by George Herbert

I can't open my eyes,
Yet you're already there to catch
my morning soul and sacrifice:

So, Mine, what is a heart?

Silver, or gold, or precious stone,
Or star, or rainbow, or a part
of all of these things,
or all of them in one?

What is a heart?

That you should look at it
and pour upon it all that you have,
as if you had nothing else do?

Teach me your love, Oh Mine;
that this new light, which now I see,
May both the work and workman show:
That by a sun-beam I will climb to you.

Tuesday, 10 August 2010

All these things


All these things are literally making
me forget to put detergent in the
washing machine
rinsing my clothes but not cleaning them.

Trying, rinsing my Self too
all these things, but not cleaning it.
Not cleaning me.

I'm just warmer now.
Warmer and smelling like ylang ylang.

Sunday, 30 May 2010

On crying.

When is the exact point
---> .
that those tears you sob
become dry? And with
that, you feel better?
Like a star ---> *


Greys like Rimmel, and
dark blue like home, and
with that cherry blossoming
like me blushing, I'm
wondering whether...