Poems · Poetry

The Silent Genius

Quiet, reserved, humble and pure
Her mind delves the deepest of oceans I’m sure
A silent genius
She expects no applause
One can only hope to imagine her flaws
Such a mysterious being
There must be so much locked inside
Yet her persona suggests that she has nothing to hide
In pensive thought I glance her take out a pen
And eloquently spill out a sentence or ten
“What is it you are you writing?” I finally cried
“Poetry” the silent genius replied.

For The Daily Post

Poems · Poetry


Are we the only creatures capable of self-reflection?
How are we sure?
Is the idea of a dog learning to recognise his own reflection so obscure?
How does the hummingbird return to the most nectar fuelled plants
If he does not remember the actions of his last little prance?
Or the male tiger who got into a scuffle last week
With that grizzly bear he now knows not to seek?
Or the cunning fox who waits for 9AM
Because that is when he knows he will catch the perfect hen
What about the female kitten who knows not to expect praise
When her owner returns home to her mischievous ways
Are we the only creatures capable of self-reflection?
How are we sure?
Is the idea that we are not the only intelligent beings so obscure?
Or do we hide from the everyday evidence
And the possible fact
That our intelligence may be shared
With a creature as minuscule
as a rat.

Poems · Poetry


All the same
Yet different shapes
Some of us are brittle
Some of us break
Some of us are squished
Some of us are strong
Some of us sing in the trees
All day long
Some of us eat vegetables
Some of us eat mice
Some of us birth ten babies
Some of us only twice
Some have blue eyes
Others have eight
Some leave mothers early
Some leave late
Some enjoy our nests
Some like to escape
Yet we are all the same
Just in many different shapes.


Midnight Journey

Where to go tonight..
A contemplation made in vain
It is as much my decision as the moon or the stars
Oh please be it a sweet and whimsical place
A paradise filled with singing birds and creatures of all kinds
Of soft words and warm hearts
A marvellous journey
A story to bring home
One shall only know once the painting has begun
On the canvasses that are my inner eyelids.


A Spider

A spider!
I call out
On the flower!
A response:
The oppressive hand grapples
As though he were a menacing tennis ball
With each grab
He curls in pain
With each grab
My heart feels the same
The final grab
From the ignorant, oppressive hand
His life is finished
His final web already spun
Perhaps he would have spent a little more time..
My heart tears
A disgraceful reminder
That we are not all the same
Gentleness is strength
Oh, what a shame.


Ode to Aves

What would life be without a bird in the sky?
To peer above to nothingness up high?
Not a duck nor a dive
Nor a squark nor a song
Not a chirp in the spring
Nor a nest by the pond
Not a swallow nor a swift
No blue tits nor gulls
How the sun would shine on
Yet life seem so dull

No winter time robin plucking berries from the tree
No woodpeckers in the forest
All jungles parrot-free
No hoot of the owl through the midst of the night
No fling of the lovebirds
Not a pigeon in sight
No eagles to soar
No vultures to feast
How dull life would be without these wondrous beasts.


Edith Pearl

(In the style of William Hughes Mearns)

Yesterday I met an invisible girl
Who told me that her name was Edith Pearl
She followed me around as a cat does a mouse
While I cooked my dinner
While I cleaned my old house

She told me stories of dust and of old
And complained to me that she felt a bit cold
So I went to fetch a blanket or two
But everything I offered her fell right through!

It’s quiet this morning
As I give my cereal a swirl
I guess this house was too cold
For my friend, Edith Pearl