Death becomes her, highlights power

In this final golden hour;

It takes strength to grant demise

To Less, that More would be the prize.

Solemn spill, these dreams that fall,

Graveyard draped in leafy pall;

Wail she will, while pain is fresh –

But soon, her bones will gain new flesh.





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.




Perhaps if petticoats were pearls

And thoughts were stars with chocolate swirls,

Moments wrapped in petalled lace,

Where tear-drop diamonds hold in place

Bright fairy-wands, of age-old make

Fair magic-wrought, for magic’s sake –

Then I could keep you here with me,

Shut out the worst catastrophe,

Bind our hearts with fairy glue

So I could always be with you.

Sleeping Beauty

baby iris


Long has she lain,

poisoned by an apple

that should never have reached Eden.

The kiss, when it comes,


wispy, a dream that eludes

upon rising;

it revives the tender recollection

that she waits,

not for an awakening,

but for a


On Ice

sunset ice


Her dreams have been


flash-frozen tears,

harbingers of pain. But

finger to vein

finds pulse flutters

still – when her dawn

rises, rivers

will flow freely

once more, quenching

her winter soul.



Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,

I want to climb up that glorious stair

And sail to the stars on your sunbeams of light;

Tell me you’ll let down your tresses tonight.


Rapunzel, Rapunzel, unwind your braids,

I want to capture their rich golden shades

And transfer their brilliance to heart’s dingy gloom;

Tell me you’ll lend me your triumphant bloom.


Rapunzel, Rapunzel, loosen your mane,

Rain me with sunshine, then douse me again;

Dying, your splendour will compost this earth,

Breeding renewal and spawning my birth.