I woke up feeling uneasy like some mornings. I'm anxious and the excitement from Sunday is not quite over; what adds to it is my constantly planning the future. Sitting in front of the computer, checking emails. Read. Play with the phone. The kettle hums and I make tea and warm the bread for breakfast. I dance to the music from the radio, snapping my fingers, swaying my body. Believe that luck is with me. Happy but remain calm, not allowing myself to be overjoyed – not thrilled. Has my morning shower, put on a smart outfit. Leave home for the poetry class.
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Hands of the Muses
Spinning the wheels A desire flashes in mind Is it an inspiration? Or is it just play Catch it before it's broken, dispersed Into space She slept there, so
calm, a beginning Her image stays, lives within me I hear her whispers in my dreams I see her strolling in my room She feeds my creativity I need balance between before and present I have started this project Reflect. Reveal. Reach Out. Recover. some time ago and now it has reached the final stage - book launch, which will be held on Sunday November 26 2017 at Hobson Room of Parnell Community Centre (545 Parnell Road, Parnell, Auckland). This poetry book comprises work of fourteen artists. Poems are written against paintings applying the occupational therapy. If you are in Auckland, New Zealand do come and join us on Sunday 26, 2017.
The poetry book is now on sale at NZ$20.00, 40% of which goes to Toi Ora Live Arts Trust. You can buy it via email: [email protected] or at Toi Ora, 6 Putiki Street, Grey Lynn, Auckland 1021. the red river flows
among fields of the land moving systematically non stop its tributaries reach everywhere they need it's detremental to life when its running ends abandoning its duty waking up will cease the soul will be wandering searching for the next life she slips off her black tunic
in the mirror she admires her smooth skin how he touched her, he excited her she was in Sydney, Christmas beautiful decorations in the city in Shanghai, Christmas there's no celebration she shakes her torso her fingers run down her naked body she's thinking she does not belong here or there beaches, beauty beaches
under the long white cloud sparkling water I eye the surfers waves break the silent green sea people send in the hooks to catch fish I'm trapped autumn sees actions
echoes of guns and screams of death fill the forest and break the serene silence faces of terror found everywhere the moonlight reflects dying flame of anger burns fueling the fighting winter arrives bleak except for the blood red left behind the survivors sway, lost not understanding why why are they involved these are the seasons when human nature is at its worst They now belong to no where
They leave their homes to escape Should treat them like thieves They, not us, are born into the rife world of wars, atrocities Build walls to stop them We should not welcome them We should not welcome them? Build walls to stop them? They, not us, are born into the rife world of wars, atrocities. Should treat them like thieves? They leave their homes to escape. They now belong to no where. nothing is nothingness
the stillness of figure silence prevails signs of death, hopelessness sun appears brightness twists the construct nothing turns into abundance the satisfaction of hope revives |
AuthorI started late to become a writer, after I graduated from the University of Auckland at the age of 57. It all began when one of my articles was first published in Muse, a magazine in Hong Kong. I just finished my first novel Tree which is about Chinese immigrants here in New Zealand. Being bipolar it hasn't been easy but I'm proud to have broken the vicious cycle and begin to enjoy life. I'm glad to have survived to this age and be able to live a most fulfilling life. Categories |
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