Yesterday, Geelong Cereal published the third part of my dragon series, My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 3, My Dragon – Can He Fly. Geelong Cereal is a free online magazine showcasing local writing and creative arts, with a special love for serial fiction and stories from the Geelong region. It’s a welcoming space for writers at every stage of their creative journey, and I’m delighted that my dragon has found a home there. A heartfelt thank‑you to Mel, Geelong Cereal’s editor, whose care and encouragement helped bring this latest chapter to life. >> My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 3. My Dragon, Can He Fly
Below is the image of the poem as it appeared in the magazine.
As I finished Part 3 of my dragon’s journey, this song seemed to capture his spirit perfectly. A reminder that before we learn whether we can fly, we first need the courage to look toward the sky.
Yesterday, Geelong Cereal published the second part of my dragon series, My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 2, My Dragon – The Revival. Geelong Cereal is a free online magazine showcasing local writing and creative arts, with a special love for serial fiction and stories from the Geelong region. It’s a welcoming space for writers at every stage of their creative journey, and I’m delighted that my dragon has found a home there. A heartfelt thank‑you to Mel, Geelong Cereal’s editor, whose care and encouragement helped bring this latest chapter to life. >> My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 2. My Dragon, The Revival
Below is the image of the poem as it appeared in the magazine.
With Dragon’s Young Years drifting through my headphones, I returned to the world of my dragon. The song’s gentle reflections on the passage of time felt like an appropriate soundtrack for a tale of revival and second beginnings.
Earlier today, my dragon returned to the page in Part 1 of My Dragon, TheTetralogy — a story of flight, memory, and the quiet ache of what might have been. For this week’s Throwback Friday poem, I’m revisiting a poem from May 2019 that carries the same creature into a different sky. It’s a dream‑journey through New York’s mythic corners, where dragons brush past torches, faeries linger in the trees, and hope rises from the ashes. Below is the poem as I first wrote it — now gently punctuated, but still holding its original fire
Scenes from my 2019 wander through New York — the places where dragons, dreams, and Lennon’s whisper still linger.
This poem first appeared in my debut bookTullawalla, Chapter 3 — “Dragons, Wizards, Faeries, and a Spacecraft”, page 55.
Dragons and Faeries
My dragon flew me to New York, His scaly tail was singed by the stoic statue’s torch as we were landing upon Central Park.
And in the city’s mystical forest I stood among strawberry fields and woods. Atop the plaque of my dreams, I imagined how life should’ve been – my naked soul, a vision unseen.
I have a dream, like John’s world: Togetherness, love pristine, the apple uneaten and the snake shyly beaten.
I see peace, within evil’s tiredness, burnt-out flames of the devil’s nakedness leaving us life’s leftover ashes. Then the peace dove shall arise from the ruins, and the lost faeries will return as humans.
And as these memories rise through mist and music, the old dream leans in once more… imagine.
Yesterday, Geelong Cereal published the first part of my dragon series — My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 1 – My Dragon. Geelong Cereal is a free online magazine showcasing local writing and creative arts, with a special love for serial fiction and stories from the Geelong region. It’s a welcoming space for writers at every stage of their creative journey, and I’m delighted that my dragon has found a home there. A heartfelt thank‑you to Mel, Geelong Cereal’s editor, whose care and encouragement helped bring this first chapter to life. >> My Dragon, The Tetralogy: Part 1 – My Dragon
Below is the image of the poem as it appeared in the magazine.
Before Part 1 settles into the dark, and as my dragon drifts back into shadow, here’s a song of solitude and wonder to close the first chapter.
A moonlit whisper drifts across the strawberry field, where the night’s small wonders gather for their secret celebration.
A Magical Mushroom Party
Did you hear — on the grapevine about the magic mushroom party? The local fungi have peacefully impregnated the neighbourhood strawberry field and all moonlit buttons are welcome. Grab an umbrella and your gumboots, bring your own spores and a watering can.
…join the cheery clan, there’s plenty of toadstools, and the soirée’s fairy rings of our magical and mysterious land have conjured up the old Beatles band.
And as the fairy rings keep peacefully humming, the old songs rise again beneath the glowing caps of night.
In the hush of twilight, a pink glow threaded the treeline — a hint of the hidden realm where fairies hover above the causeway, chorusing something tender and otherworldly
Beyond the Pink Horizon
Deep behind the trees’ silhouettes and beyond the horizon’s pink curtain, in that ambiguous twilight zone there lies an earthly paradise — a glimmering crimson kingdom where our magical, luminous fairies hide.
And I wonder: where is the missing archway into this purple-haze never never land, or is it simply reality’s mysterious causeway calling me through the transient light.
Through the transient glow, the fairies’ lullaby drifts across the horizon.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in July 2022) is drawn from my third book, Until Eyes Hear Sound. It appears in Chapter 5: Observation, Until Eyes Hear Sound.
A Torn Thesaurus
With my fiddle and riddles Here in the middle Of this unopened universe Time spirals in reverse
Quills fly in from cyberspace As alien words unravel and interlace A torn thesaurus is my database I wonder Have I landed in the right place?
Today’s Throwback Friday poem (originally written in August 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears as the first poem in the Fairyland section of Chapter 9, Humour, Fantasy, and Fairyland: Timeless
Where Have The Fairies Gone?
Deep in the enchanted woods Under mossy rocks and water-reeds I saw an iron-bar prison door Lying over a cave in the dry creek bed
I wondered and yelled out “Hello! Is anyone down there?” Eerily, a gentle voice whispered “Do not worry, we are sheltering here.” “Why are you hiding?” I inquired “We are waiting for humanity to stop the carnage on our planet.”
Then, peeping up from lower in the chasm I witnessed that the small luminous eyes Of Earth’s guardian faeries Were joyless and crying
Music/Video: by Sigur Ros, “Ylur”, translated means, Warmth
Deep among the forest’s magical trees Where the rowdy snails do as they please There is a secret garden for frolicking fairies Their cabbage patch is made from layers Of interwoven autumn leaves and bee’s knees Spread upon leftover leprechaun sleeves
Here, the sprites flit in on the breeze With an occasional wheeze and sneeze Sometimes the bold winter freeze Gives them an overfriendly squeeze And you’ll hear the fairies squeal in Sinhalese
