I wandered in search, of what makes me human, Down to the creek bed, along the corridors of the library, made eons before words and...

Silver Ball, Sparkling illuminant Light my black heart, with songs so nascent, Sing me a song, of ancient ocean tides, rising and falling...

It says on the Gate ‘Three Goat Farm’ Your pretty little heads, dark brown and black nod gently at farmer Jo. Your beards dangling under...

Melt the mind and enchant the heart These two no longer set apart, To seek the lotus of the light, Is to seek the day but find the night,...

My tent billows and tugs, like a boat on an anchor rope. The great easterly springs to life. cooling the scorched earth. Tiny beads of...

My Poem Speaks, When I taste the yoke of my soul. The quest to taste the yoke and grasp the poetry, Here in W.A, north of Perth, As far...

Last night I took a journey, across the moon, Guided by a periwinkle star, I mapped it as we went, through massive caverns, on the Milky...

Drums beat, Heart beat, The dark moon Hangs overhead. The Wind blows. The palm tree sways on the beaches edge. My mountain island protect...

Amid the starlight the moon is waning. Moon too bright and sensual captivates my being, Dance me through the starry sky, play me a tune...

The harlequin, court jester, the trickster, You are a humorous treasure. The secret and the meaning you hold. You are the crossing, the...

2/10/2010 Sun, sea and sand, walk, promenade, food, risotto, red wine, camera, waiter, hats. The feast of the moment. We are in the...

The window where I sit, Is the place where all thought and, contemplation comes. Speaking to me through the trees, the birds and sky. The...

Always searching for the beauty, and the colour of a rainbow. We look out there, only to realise, we are wearing it, as a beautiful...

Following and following and following, All the days crawl on bended knees, Into the abyss of hollow shadows, Returning and returning,...

Tragedy befell my blackbird’s mate last year about this time. I wept to find its feathers strewn about the garden. Its mate frantically...

The stones in the ancient creek bed, Are there to teach us about the birdsong, and to know I am not alone. One Village One Life.

Belying this dry brown place, Green Lake you draw me in, your fertile bog, moist and dark, a crucible of stirring primal life.

Out of the mist of time, The poppies dance, drifting into the painting, on a sweet note.

Mountains inspire, Lovers save the world, relinking the stars to the beauty of you.

Why paint onions, bottles and things? If not for fquiet reflection, in quiet corners, But to unearth the essence, of their unique design,...