The Great Unravelling


Here lies 2018,

behind her glass barrier,

shrouded in mystery. The hand I stretch out

cannot quite hide its tremor. What will I encounter beneath

her folds? Curses or capital, fortune or

fright? Nothing is certain

but the compulsion to peel back

that first layer. Exhilaration battles anxiety. Where to start? There is the smell of death –

but also the tang of adventure and promise of new knowledge about her. And so

it begins.

Each moment, each day, each

month unravels more of her riddles until at last every

secret cavity has been divested of its contents. Some turns of the wrist

will reveal treasures,

things hidden from days of old, joyous to untie. Others

horrify, fill the nostrils with the stench of decay and loss –

even then she demands to be set free of her wrappings

layer by layer, day by day. Until she is free of her casement

the baubles and bones seem disjointed, unrelated,

entries in the catalog to be studied by greater minds. But

after her 365 day burial,

her treasures and triumphs, grievances and gloom

will be placed with care in the display cases of my heart. They are messy,

these artifacts. Random bits of broken pottery,

gems – uncut and unrecognizable,

scarabs encased in amber. When studied,

wrestled with,

polished to reveal their glory,

then and only then will she divulge her beauty. Taken as a


the years lined up in their coffins give context to my past,

enable me to excavate the Truth of who I am.

Whatever this year hides, this wrapped enigma,

for good or for ill

she is mine to enearth.

My fingers find the tattered fabric

and pull…

Image Copyrighted by & found at Egyptian Picture Gallery.


Like Candy


He pours his voice like taffy.

Creamy folds undulate, smooth to silk in her

hungry ears. But when he pulls his words, stretches

the truth out of shape she, generously buttered, finds there is

nothing she can hold on to. Communication – hardened

and brittle –

shatters in the stillness; she is left with only her bitter

memories of how easily those empty calories

used to go down.

I, Rapunzel


I, Rapunzel, clutched the tighter to my golden mane;

You, the wooer, prince and fighter, struggled to unchain

All those strands that held me captive to the distant past;

Strangled hopes and maladaptive dreams I had amassed

Like treasure chests with broken stocks, reduced by time to rust;

Death had killed my golden locks, and crumbled them to dust.

‘Let down your hair!’ your battle cry resounded in the dark;

But tendons tightened, terrified of barren branches; stark

My thoughts, unclothed my heart, as hope dared warm my blood;

One by one upon the start, and then a torrent flood

Descended in a golden cloud, until I stood unveiled –

Beneath my feet, a golden shroud, where former visions paled.

And now I wait, a bare-skinned maid, my Prince has won me fair;

For with the spring, I’ll grow new braids, fresh dreams will crown my hair.

Resilience Defined


Ripped from a watery womb,

You were sentenced to wander aimless at Evaporation’s whim.

Jostled into raucous crowds of strangers

And rejected by every cloud you ever knew,

You’ve been muddied, stepped on,


Ejected as waste.

Your compulsion for lower ground has bound you to wander,

Ever wander, homeless,

Crying for the sea.

Cruel winds have driven you, harried –

You have fed hurricanes and blizzards from time’s birth.

Do you hold your memories close

On cold nights

As you wait on this snowbank

For your next reincarnation?


No matter how you are pressed,

You rise again,

Reinvent yourself.

Your DNA hasn’t changed

Since Creation

But your relentless pursuit

Of Life

Will outlive us all.



Grip of Gold


Golden are her tawny tresses,

Golden are her thoughts of late;

Gold her dreams of greener dresses –

Dipped in gold, her dreams await

Days of golden-sunshined splendour,

Tucked neath golden afternoons;

Patient, she will guard her golden

Songs as hope sings gilded tunes.

You Are Sky


You are sky,

canvas kaleidoscope

mysterious and dangerous.

I stare fascinated,

drawn by your glory,

terrified of your ferocity,

your untamed wild.

You are sunrise and rainbow,

hurricane and eye –

unpredictable and beautiful,

Beauty and Beast.

Your face reflects my own,

scrapes at places long-buried,

calls forth daybreak

from the ashes of darkness.

You smile and I dance.

You groan and I tremble,

labour beneath your tears and sighs.

You are sky,

too grand to be boxed,

too magnificent to be tamed,

and I love you.



The New Green



Earth worships Green –

Bows beneath leafy canopies

To the fountain of youth,

Sings praises to virility and supple strength

In cathedrals fashioned by fads.

But after life killed her chlorophyll,

Her true beauty bloomed;

Wisdom and resilience have proven

Gold to be the new green.