I’m writing as my personal self on Instagram again. As writers, we have an audience — but not all audiences are the same. When I’m writing to the WordPress community, I come as I am. I always have. The fact that other people outside of WP can see what I write in my slippers and […]
The Winton Writers Festival is drawing to a close. Some have already left. Some are off exploring dinosaurs or sitting quietly with new books and thoughts. There were sunset drinks and final conversations, photos taken in golden light, and that strange sense of holding something while it’s still happening — knowing it’s about to become […]
A dog digging a hole is happy Sometimes they are digging to bury a bone Or investigate a noise Lost in the digging they avoid all thought other than I Am Digging But when they surface happily panting A little wild eyed Is when the reality arrives And they wonder if perhaps that great and […]
The Bridge I’ve Been Building I’ve been walking toward this for a long time. For me, writing poetry has never been about craft or output.It’s about return.It’s how I come back to myself when the world — or my own patterns — have carried me too far away. I was thinking about it this morning […]
What if what’s up there isn’t heaven? What if hell is not below? What if both are not places but presences — things that live in the spaces all around us, shifting their nature according to our thoughts? What if we know nothing about death or dying? What if we don’t go anywhere — we’re […]
A poem that asks how a writer can hold space for people to arrive at their discovery without explanation, honours presence and personal insight over the presumption to give advice, or explain anything.
A poem written beneath the sky and the pressure of being. A reflection on solitude, soul, and remembering who we are before the noise.
This piece explores the voice behind the poet, the stitching of memory, and the anchor points that root us in a world that often slips past.
Perhaps the part of me that has something to say About grass And the broad expanse of ink black sky Sprinkled with stars An orange moon Surprisingly wonky Reminds me to breathe That life is more than pressure And bustle And hustle That people should really be told What I yell sometimes in my heart […]
Who are you at 3am Sitting on the front step Staring into the darkness Lit by thousands of stars Perhaps a full moon (But not together They are sort of a one or the other Shine The stars fade when the moon is bright) Who are you then? At 3am As you sip coffee and […]
