It’s been a crazy two years since I last posted, but I think this poem speaks for itself.

Photo credit on image.


The smell of hope

We were given the topic of ‘The smell of… (something abstract)’. This is my poem, and pretty much how I feel about hope. Like a wet dog, your favourite lost dog, who comes home with the big storm… You let it in, but cover the furniture…



I took this photograph in June last year, of a shed on the farm I was volunteering and staying. This poem was written in another shed on the farm though. I liked this shed more. 🙂

I sometimes still dress myself in cobwebs.

The lonely road

I lie in yet another strange bed
Sold out by myself
And my unplanned dreams
Of saving the world
But losing myself instead

I’ve heard that somewhere before

But somehow
The prodigal daughter leaves again
As if the path she walks upon is hot
Burning her feet, her head and heart

Exchanging molten soles
For a rocky life
Still somehow, among the cracks
Finding such thorny hope