Feature Image Above: Frankie and I, mid-poem at our local café—where thoughts drift between nothing and something, and companionship keeps everything afloat.
Attached Images: Three of my bird photos from today: Wattlebird, Magpie, and Mudlark.
This poem grew from three spontaneous reflections I left on fellow bloggers’ posts—each a response to a moment that stirred something in me. Though written separately, the stanzas now speak to one another, forming a quiet meditation on uncertainty, resilience, and the weight of responsibility. Sometimes, everything lives in the spaces between. The three bloggers in stanza order. 1st Stanza >> Okay, Socrates | Rethinking Life 2nd Stanza >> Tempted By A Demon – I Write Her 3rd Stanza >> Four in a row – Keep it alive
Thinking About Everything
In between nothing, and something — where is everything?
Hold onto a limb, when the body forgets how to swim, and the mind’s in a spin.
Holding onto self-discipline can be hard to maintain — especially for politicians, who hold all the reins in the hard rain.
This live rendition carries a breath of vulnerability and grace—perfect for reflecting on the spaces between nothing, something, and everything. It’s the kind of song that lingers, like a paw resting gently on your arm.
After weeks of angry skies and biting winds, the moon returned—smiling, serene, and softly settling into the horizon’s embrace. I paired this poem with ELO’s Mr. Blue Sky, a song that lifts the spirit just as the moon lifted mine. May it brighten your night as it did mine.
A Lunar Surprise
After weeks of angry skies, And cold winds that stung our eyes, It was a pleasant surprise To see your smily whiteface, Before you settled down into place Upon the horizon’s pillowcase.
In the wake of the recent devastating storms in the Philippines, nature’s fragility echoes through broken branches and scattered leaves. This Tanka reflects on the quiet aftermath—where hope lingers, and the question of restoration remains tenderly unanswered.
Neurotic Wind (a Tanka)
I hope – and wonder – after the neurotic wind shyly stops blowing: who’ll repair the broken trees, and rescue the orphaned leaves?
In the quiet defiance of blackbirds slicing through the wind, I found a mirror to our own fractured grace. This poem, paired with The Beatles’ “Blackbird,” reflects on the quiet unity of nature and the turbulent state of mankind.
A Wayward Wind
The black birds’ little wings cut neatly into the wind, sharper than a bee’s sting – and resiliently, they grin, despite nature’s wayward whirlwind.
The little birds’ stay combined, unlike the lands’ irrational mankind, who become violent and unrefined when they are in an unkind bind.
Yesterday, while we were walking along the banks of the Barwon River, we passed under the historic Queens Park Bridge, so today’s Throwback Friday poem is quite appropriate; originally written in September 2021.
Lights Above Bridges (Revise)
Bridges span our invisible years And carry our forgotten tears Crossing over old hidden fears
Bridges are burnt over time Years turn to ashes in an instant And time is our only constant
Beyond the longest bridges Under the ocean’s bluest seas And above nature’s greenest hues Love’s pulsating Aurora nights renew
Acrux rises over the opal sea—its light, my inheritance.
In the hush of night, beneath the Southern Cross, I find myself wondering how far starlight travels—and why it feels so familiar. This poem is a reflection on cosmic legacy, distance, and the quiet claim we make on eternity.
Celestial Birthright
Tonight, there above the horizon’s dark blue oceans, deep in the black opal sky, I see the bright Acrux Star.
Then I wonder: how far away is a million light-years from today? And why is the star’s infinite light eternally my birthright.
Music/Video:The final 3 minutes of “Sea of Stars” – 10-hour, ambient space music
Wandering down the winding road, Chattering to the friendly birds– Fluttering quietly nearby, Waiting patiently for their replies.
Wondering, do they understand why flying freely in the sky transcends crawling around on contaminated ground.
Lindsey Stirling’s “Song of the Caged Bird” is more than just a haunting violin piece; it’s a visual and emotional journey inspired by Maya Angelou’s I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. Stirling imagined a bird gazing longingly from its cage, yearning to soar like the others. Though it cannot escape, it finds joy in sharing its song, lighting up the world around it. Stirling writes: “Oftentimes, we can’t control our circumstances. However, it’s up to us to determine how we will respond to them. We all have a voice to find and a gift to share.”
Hello, dear readers and followers. I write for Coffee House Writers magazine (USA) fortnightly, and my poem “Before, Between, and Beyond”is in this week’s edition. The full title in my ‘Office Documents’ is “Before, Between, and Beyond (or, Under a Cloud, to Beyond Cloud Nine),” but that was too long for the Magazine. To read the poem, please click the link below to visit my Coffee House Writers Magazine article. >> https://coffeehousewriters.com/before-between-and-beyond/