The Purple Dawn

(This Ode was written one morning when I was working and the morning sky was so vivid with purples and lilacs, I was curious why, and wanted to share my passion for the moment)

When darkness sighs and flees the western skies,

And morning stirs with sleepy, blushing eyes,

A miracle spills from horizon’s yawn—

The heavens gift us with the Purple Dawn.

The sun ascends, yet low and shyly born,

Its rays still soft, not yet in crimson sworn.

No blazing reds or boldest golds appear—

Just violet veils the early atmosphere.

Molecules dance in spectral, scattered light,

Exploding amethyst against the night.

Dust and dew, suspended in their play,

Give breath and birth to dawn’s majestic ray.

What stirs such wonder in this fleeting hue?

Is it the stormcloud's whisper breaking through?

A warning veiled in beauty’s calm disguise—

Wild things to come beneath such gentle skies?

Or is it wisdom in the morning air,

A call to live with courage, bold and rare?

To rise with valor, honouring the flame

That burns within the dawn’s poetic name.

The ancients cloaked their kings in purple pride—

A hue for thrones, not for the world outside.

Yet Nature, kind, makes royalty of all,

Bestows a crown in morning’s regal call.

It wraps the soul in splendour, deep and wide,

Lends wealth to those with little else beside.

The artist wakes, inspired by this tone,

And sings their thoughts before the day is grown.

This dawn provokes reflection, truth, and grace

Invites the heart to seek a sacred place.

Is it a spell, a trick of morning’s light?

Or wisdom woven in the edge of night?

Does spirit speak in silent lilac waves,

To calm our storms, to mend the world it saves?

A symbol soft of selfhood’s tender song,

To stand alone, yet feel we still belong.

For purple holds the paradox of things—

The fire and water, earth and sky it brings.

And like our thoughts—both shadowed, wild, and drawn—

So lingers long the mystic Purple Dawn.

The chakras know its sacred, seeking glow,

A crown of light where higher visions flow.

Yet fleeting is its time upon the land—

The reds and golds approach with warming hand.

And so, it fades, as all great muses must,

Swept off in sunbeams, scattered into dust.

But we shall wait, with hearts reborn and worn,

For the return—our next Purple Dawn.

The Scars of Love

(An Ode to the Lovers Who Fight and Find Their Way Back)

We clashed vicious, brutal, like strangers with knives for tongues,

As if love had never lived here, ballards never sung.

You, once my refuge, became my war,

And I now your enemy, not your amour.

Words spilled with shards of truths or lies, we’ll never quite know,

Thrown like stones in a fevered glow.

Our lips, usually soft with kisses,

Now cracked and raw with unspeakable misses.

Hatred, can it really live in the lungs of love?

Or is it just pain misunderstood, misplaced,

A bond once concrete, hurled at the wall,

Now dust, now fragments, now nothing at all.

We climbed that mountain of rage,

Only to tumble, mid ascent, bruised by our own cage.

But somewhere in the silence,

In the heartache, in the breath,

We stood, bloodied by words, but not beaten by death.

Like riding a horse that throws you hard,

You rise, with skin scraped and soul charred.

You mount again, not because it didn’t hurt,

But because some rides are simply worth the dirt.

Scars form, Some fade like morning mist on glass,

Others root deep, reminders that last.

But are they wounds? Or the proof that we lived,

That we conquered the rage, the tears we give?

Then comes that weighty word, "SORRY",

Five letters, a trembling hand in the dark,

Some wait for it like rain on cracked soil,

Others never give it, pride coiled.

Some say it easy, too smooth, too fast, 

Just to forget, not to learn from the past.

But it’s not the fight that defines our way,

It’s how we rise, how we stay.

It's the whispered touch after the storm,

The look that says, We are bruised, but we are reborn.

Whispers of the Outback

Whispers of the Outback

(Ode to the beautiful Outback)

In the vast, red heart of the land, Where the sun paints the sky with hues so grand, The whispers of the Outback sing, A timeless song of the earth's own ring.

Kangaroos leap at dusk's sweet call, Their shadows long, stretching tall, Across the plains where spinifex grows, And eucalyptus in the breeze gently blows.

The rock stands mighty, Uluru red, A sentinel of stories, by the ancients led, Echoes of Dreamtime in silence dwell, In this land, ancient tales to tell.

The stars above, a Southern Cross bright, Guide the wanderer through the night, The Milky Way, a river in the sky, Where the spirits of the land fly high.

In this quiet, the world seems small, Nature's cathedral, grand and tall, The Outback, with its harsh embrace, Reminds us of life's relentless grace.

The Beauty and Fire Within

The Beauty and Fire Within

(This was for a beautiful Ukraine girl who is Aries, who has faced the challenges of learning life in another country and learnt to be herself and follow her dreams.)

You are Ukrainian, you are Aries,

A spirit untamed, a soul that carries

The fire of passion, the thrill of the chase,

No ordinary girl, no not even a trace.

With laughter that dances like sunlit streams,

You turn the world into golden dreams.

A lens in your hand, your beauty framed,

Gigabytes of wonder, forever named.

You twirl in dresses, fierce and bright,

Burning the eyes with radiant light.

Salsa, ballroom, the rhythm, the beat,

The floor is yours none can compete.

Your eyes hold wonder, fresh and new,

Every sight, a world in view.

Culture calls, you heed its song,

Curious, learning, moving strong.

Among the flowers, lost in fields,

Nature’s peace, the love it yields.

A midnight soak, the stars aglow,

The warmth wraps you, soft and slow.

Passionate heart, you chase the sun,

Never afraid, you are the one.

No moment dull, no path too steep,

You take the leap, no fear, no sleep.

Spontaneous spirit, wild and free,

Adventure calls, and so do thee.

Yet honesty shines, bold and true,

A fearless heart in all you do.

Magic hands, a healing grace,

Massage, yoga, a soul's embrace.

Chakras glow with Reiki’s might,

Five stars shine in golden light.

Yes, impatient, stubborn too,

But your fire makes skies turn blue.

A ride with you, no dull embrace,

Only music, magic, love, with grace.

Confident, radiant, stealing sight,

Your beauty captured in the spot light.

Not just a pretty face, but a mind so wise,

A force, a dream beneath the skies.

Loyal, strong, a heart so pure,

You are the spark, the flame, the sun.

Dancing, loving, embracing the wild ride,

A rare gift like you, can not disappear with the falling tide.

The Sartorial Olive Tree

The Sartorial Olive Tree

(This is an Ode is about the Grana Restaurant, Sydney. Not only did they capture my taste buds, but my creative immigration was inspired)

In Grana’s hush, beneath the stone and beam,

Where whispers dance in subterranean dream,

There stands, not leafed, but in poise and grace,

The sartorial olive tree, in its timeless place.

It rises tall through echoes deep and wide,

A witness to the clink of glass, full of pride,

Of love declared in shadows soft and low,

Its limbs laid bare where silken fashions flow.

Its bark a ghostly shimmer, pale, and bright,

A beacon in the softly cradled night.

Around, the rustic red-brick walls in song,

Exposed beams hum where ancient hearts belong.

Oh Grana, temple to the grain and flame,

You nourish more than hunger, more than name.

From outlying fields, the golden bounty pressed,

Flour milled on site, our soul becomes your guest.

The Austrian mill, a wooden masterwork divine,

Stands near the stairs, like roots of grapevine twine.

And past that sacred core, beneath the tree,

Lies Apollonia, a hidden reverie.

The velvet red curtains enclose hearts in flight,

And lovers sip on dreams through amber light.

A Sicilian den, where time forgets to chase,

And passion lingers long in scented space.

Above, the staff dressed in white drift soft as breeze,

They glide like angels, moving with such ease.

With liquid gifts and fragrant plates they roam,

Each dish a story, every taste a home.

The olive tree, though leafless, richly dressed,

Its décor shifting as the seasons manifest.

It greets each guest with elegance unspoken,

A symbol of the feast, the love, the token.

So Grana lives not just in grain or fire,

But in the quiet stirs of soul’s desire.

And those who enter, leaving streets behind,

Find the tree there, where memories entwine.

Her Name Was Megan

Her Name Was Megan

 (This is the first ode I wrote based on a person I never met, it was based on the little I knew about her and her instagram profile, Megan loved it.)

Her name was Megan, wild and free,

She hailed from the land down under far beyond the sea.

But when I met her, she roamed afar,

In Thailand’s land of sun and stars.

Her long hair, darker than the night,

Moonlight kissed, bathed in light.

Etched in ink, her body told,

Stories of love, of pasts untold.

Each line, each shade, a tale to trace,

A journey carved upon her grace.

Her smile, a trap you never saw,

Until you fell in silent awe.

More than beauty, deep inside,

A spirit vast, untamed, untried.

She burned into your memory bright,

Left you restless late at night.

She wore her dress off shoulder bare,

A tease of art, of skin so fair.

A whisper’s path, a longing glance,

To soft lips that left you in a trance.

The innocent were drawn, beguiled,

By eyes that danced, both fierce and wild.

Among the waves, the earth, the trees,

She moved with nature’s tranquil ease.

She held the sun within her hands,

Beneath her touch, all life would stand.

From elephants to monkeys all things small,

Her love embraced, she cradled all.

She knew the night, she knew the thrill,

No glass unraised, no high left still.

Through Phuket’s lights and Phi Phi’s waves,

She danced through dreams the boldest crave.

Wrapped in laughter, lost in sin,

A ladyboy’s arms or bar girls' grin.

For Megan’s nights were never tamed,

Each dawn arose with memories flamed.

By day, on golden sands she lay,

A goddess carved in light’s embrace.

Her bikini, coyly hiding grace,

Yet still revealing just a taste.

At night, she played, a siren free,

Capturing hearts through imagery.

A teasing shot, a playful game,

For whispers sent still fed the flame.

And as the scissors sheared away,

Locks that fell capturing dreams in play,

A new adventure formed in mind,

Who next would she seek, who next would she find?

For Megan, is more than what you see,

A wonder lost to destiny.

In flowered baths, her heart remains,

A love untamed, yet bound by chains.

Her heart still to be captured,

A spirit fierce, yet soft and true.

She moves like fire, wild and free,

As she soars she leaves secrets in the sea.

And though she roams, untamed, unfurled,

Megan is the 8th wonder of the world.

Depression, The Untold Truth

Depression, The Untold Truth

(This ode was written based on what I experienced in life and what other people I know have experienced, depression affects everyone in different ways, and affects those in ways they do not understand themselves ) 

The world fades, a whispering ghost,

Your four walls now matter the most.

Darkness knocks, a friend in disguise,

A beast within, with hollowed eyes.

How did it start? A wound, unseen

Trauma, childhood, places we've been.

Did I miss the signs, the silent plea?

I pushed away all close to me.

I am tired, empty, lost in despair,

A heavy weight too much to bear.

Some call it clinical, bipolar, or worse,

A shadowed soul trapped in its curse.

A rollercoaster, wild and steep,

One day I soar, the next I sink deep

The front door handle, a fear untold,

The outside world too harsh, too bold.

Sweat drips, my pulse takes flight,

Every face an enemy in sight.

Racing home, my only shield,

A place where I can simply yield.

Curled in a ball, I shut it all down,

Social silence, a self-made crown.

Illusions whisper, fear takes hold,

Self-sabotage, a story retold.

Surely it’s not me, no, not I,

But the beast within, that longs to cry.

To end it all? The thought appears,

Yet love still lingers through the tears.

A pet, a soul, with piercing eyes so true,

Unconditional love pulling me through.

A reason to rise, to fight, to stay,

A flicker of hope to light my way.

A keyboard warrior, my words take flight,

Virtual friends born in the night.

One in seven suffer, so they say,

Yet loneliness grips me every day.

Treatment, support, a hand to hold,

But the outside world is cruel and cold.

Breaking the barriers, one breath at a time,

Two steps forward, a mountain to climb.

With a furry embrace, the world starts to bend,

Darkness retreats, though scars won’t mend.

Piles of unopened mail I cannot face,

Yet hope still whispers in this place.

Music is the gateway to my soul,

A melody mending what darkness stole.

It lifts my mood, ignites my mind,

Lost in the beat, peace I find.

Stay strong, take steps, no matter how small,

For even in darkness, we rise when we fall.

Life returns, the light shines through,

This is Depression, The Untold Truth.

Love and Identity

Love and Identity

In a world of pronouns, voices rise,
He/him, she/her—truth in their eyes.
He becomes she, or neither at all,
Yet still they stand, proud and tall.

A spectrum vast, a radiant hue,

The rainbow is flown, bold and true.

Yet even within, there’s pain untold,

For bi hearts shunned, left in the cold.

Why are we different? Who casts the divide?

Are we not all just souls inside?

Where boys mould as one, passion untamed,

Where top, bottom, and versatile are names.

Where girls embrace what their hearts desire,

No man required to spark their fire.

Love for all, no matter the frame,

No need for judgment, no need for shame.

We are born as male or female, it's true,

Shaped by nature in forms old and new.

Yes, we are different, crafted unique,

Yet love and respect are what we seek.

Your birth may define how we compete,

A line drawn clear, yet not in defeat.

It does not mean we love you less,

But fairness must stand, no more, no less.

For we all make choices, paths to tread,

To be ourselves in heart and head.

Yet in love and life, some lines remain,

Not out of hate, not to cause pain.

Appreciation does not fade away,

But fairness must guide the way.

Hand in hand, with hearts set free,

A world of love, yet equity.

So let us embrace, let us stand tall,

Break every barrier, dismantle the wall.

For love is a force, fierce and free,

And every soul deserves to be in love.

The Coffee That Captured Our Souls

The Coffee That Captured Our Souls

(This is my first short story)

Outside, the air was biting at negative seven degrees, but the sun shone brightly, casting a golden glow over the winter wonderland. As you walked into the coffee shop, a vapor of cold air escaped with each breath, swirling around you before vanishing. I watched you from my seat, anticipation traveling through me. I had been waiting to see the woman whose slender figure and gentle curves had captivated me through a mere online profile. But now, that alluring image was hidden beneath a bulky winter jacket, shielding you from both the cold and my admiring gaze. If only it were summer—then I could see you in light fabrics that gracefully draped over your form, hinting at the beauty beneath.

Your eyes sparkled as they met mine, and your smile was radiant as you approached. Though this was our first meeting, I already knew, I would get lost in those dazzling eyes, in the way your lips curved, in the warmth of your presence.

You removed your jacket, hanging it on a wooden post near our table. My gaze lingered as you stretched to reach the higher hook, the motion revealing glimpses of your silhouette. That moment etched itself into my mind, never to be forgotten. As you turned, the delicate lace lining of your top peeked through, clinging to your form, molding against your curves. Your nipples, hardened from the cold, made my pulse quicken, and I wondered, was it the chill of winter, or was it me that stirred something within you?

I stood to greet you, drawing you into a warm embrace. You nestled into my neck, inhaling my scent, your lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. And then, a soft kiss on my cheek, gentle, yet electric. My body surged with warmth, ignited by the simplest of touches. Desire stirred within me, an unrelenting hunger. I wanted to forgo coffee, forgo words, I was already lost in you. But I forced myself to hold back, to rein in the fire that threatened to consume me.

We ordered our coffees, the steam rising in delicate tendrils before dissipating into the cooler air. Conversation flowed effortlessly. We spoke of the world, of our dreams, of the places we longed to visit. We shared a love for writing, for capturing moments in words, for shaping emotions with keystrokes. We talked of fitness, of opportunities, of time, how precious it was, how fleeting.

Yet, even as we spoke, my eyes betrayed me. They kept falling to the rise and fall of your chest, drawn to the rhythm of your breath. I longed to feel the steady beat of your heart beneath my fingertips.

As the last sips of coffee warmed our lips, you suggested a walk. I hesitated, not because I didn’t want to, but because I feared I wouldn’t be able to resist the pull between us. Standing so close, yet not touching, I could feel the heat of desire radiating from our bodies. I reached for your jacket, helping you slip into its embrace. As I guided your arms through the sleeves, my hands brushed against your shoulders, and a pulse of electricity surged between us. If only I could be that jacket, wrapping myself around you completely, never to be removed.

I opened the door, and as you stepped out, I reached for your hand. The moment our fingers intertwined, a silent understanding passed between us. You felt it too, the fire, the tension, the unspoken craving. As we walked down the street, the temperature had risen, or perhaps it was just you, setting my heart ablaze. My heart pounded so loudly, I was sure the whole world could hear. The sight of us, together, hand in hand, made me feel like the luckiest man alive.

Then, as if fate had aligned the stars just for us, I noticed a narrow alley ahead. A hidden space, secluded from the world’s gaze. I knew this was my moment, my chance to change the course of our day, perhaps even my life. With a swift motion, I pulled you into the alley. Surprise flashed in your eyes, but it quickly melted into something deeper, an unspoken anticipation.

The sunlight filtered through the narrow passage, catching strands of your hair and setting them aglow. Yet, I needed no sun. Your beauty alone was enough to melt me. What spell had you cast upon me? What power did you hold over my senses?

I spun you around, pinning your arms above your head with one hand. Your body arched, surrendering to what was to come. Our lips hovered, so close yet not touching, our breaths mingling as time stood still. My free hand slipped beneath your jacket, under your thin shirt, finding the lace that cradled your breast. My fingers traced over the soft fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between them. A soft moan escaped your lips, the sound sending a jolt of need through me. Your hip pressed against me, a silent invitation, an unspoken plea.

And then, finally, our lips collided. There was no hesitation, no restraint, just raw, unfiltered passion. Our mouths moved in unison, devouring, exploring, consuming. It was as if we had never kissed before, as if we had been starving and had finally found sustenance.

In that moment, we both knew, there would be no sleep tonight. Our bodies would intertwine in the darkness, moving, searching, finding. The streetlights filtering through the curtains would cast a soft glow over sweat laced skin, illuminating the evidence of our longing. Cries of pleasure would fill the night, echoing into the early hours of morning.

We had crossed a threshold, forged a connection beyond mere attraction. Our lips had sealed our fate, binding our souls in a way that neither of us could deny.

The Drynie Boys

It's 2:30 AM, and the Drynie Boys are in play,
Harvesting cane that won't see the next day.
With skill and might, they cut through the night,
Harvester and truck in sync, a seamless sight.

Working in harmony beneath the sun’s fierce heat,
Their work’s never over until the last bin's beat.
Through golden seas of towering sugar cane,
They cut, they toil, through grease, sweat and strain.

Dan, the main man, with his sharp blades,
Guides the harvester across the glades.
With spirits high and heart so true,
He faces each drill, being true blue.

"That’s no dog!" yells Spikey, "another tyre’s blown!"
A hiss louder than any snake, a burst hose, air is flowing.
Though bins may tumble, and steel ropes fray,
The Drynie Boys do not grumble, it’s just another day.


Traversing the lands from farms to sidings,
It could be Burkes, The mill or Colevale two, four and five.
Good or bad, we can always hear Darren bellow,
"Burkes is the only true siding for this fellow."

From the moon’s silver glow to the sun's golden set,
No time for a wager, no time for regret.
"Flamin' oath," they cry, as the engines roar,
Their work is legend, a tale to explore.

It’s 2024, and the crew’s not the same,
Shaun wields a spanner, mastering the game.
Over the two-way, his voice rings clear,
"Grease up, boys—no rest for us here!"

Darren, steady, with bins in line,
Pushing and pulling till all align.
JD crunches numbers, urging them on,
"Another twenty bins boys before the day is done!"

Bear and Glen stand ready and steady,
Lifting spirits, calming the crew.
When one man falters, they’ll take the strain,
Ensuring the Drynie Boys do not drain.

As they prepare for the next day, the fields ignite, a fiery blaze,
Vast green lands of sugar sticks, cast in an amber haze.
The water cart bounces through the break, quelling stray flames,
As fast as they roar, they fade—dawn’s work now remains.

When night settles and work is done,
The Drynie Boys reflect on battles won.
Fields once lush with sugar cane now bare,
Tales of grease and grit linger in the air.

Then comes the rain, with its pitter-patter tune,
Wheels spin in the mud, the mill halts too soon.
As rivers swell, the season’s end draws near,
But Christmas beckons, so does another year.

So here's to the Drynie haulers, steadfast and true,
Spinning yarns of harvests old and new.
In the heart of the Burdekin, where legends are spun,
The Drynie Boys have had a ripper run.

Beautiful as a Sunflower

You stand tall, a princess among the wild,

Facing the world as the sun crowns your golden halo.

The facets of your beauty, like petals kissed by morning dew,

Catch the beams of light, glowing as bright as the heart of day.

Your strength radiates in silent elegance,

Drawing all who wander near, lost in the depth of your gaze.

Your smile, a beacon as warm as the sun itself,

Follows every moment, lighting the path of those in your orbit.

Your heart, vast and intricate, mirrors the thousand blooms

That weave together to form the soul of a sunflower.

With each glance, you steal hearts like the sun steals shadows,

Leaving none untouched by your radiant presence.

When the wind dances through your golden crown,

It sings like the chimes of your favorite festive song,

Soft, sweet, and full of joy, a melody that stirs the surrounding souls.

As your thousands of petals open to the thousands of thoughts in your open mind,

You absorb the struggles and plights of others,

While seeking the love and friendship that your soul longs for.

Your essence takes in the feelings of those around you,

Yet you know you must stand tall, steadfast among the rest.

As the sun rises to the east and sets to the west,

And as sure as the darkness to come,

Your journey through life will be well traveled.

Each day, a new adventure beckons,

And afar, romance may quietly bloom.

But you stay rooted in your home grounds,

Until the desire to follow the sun’s path calls you yet again.

Your love, boundless as the sky, holds the promise of family

A nurturing embrace that will guide and grow,

Rooted in kindness, blossoming with care as you are there naturing soul.

Your stature, a marvel, commending the horizon

An unmissable masterpiece against the canvas of life that even Van Gogh could not capture.

Yet beneath your bold exterior lies a secret longing,

Absorbing the unseen kindness and warmth of the world around you.

Though you endure the droughts of love with resilient grace,

Who will dare to reach beyond your strength

And nurture the tender roots of your being?

You stand tall, determined and radiant,

Waiting for the one who will see your full bloom,

And love you as deeply as the earth cradles the sun’s embrace.

As the sun sets gently to the west,

Your petals close, you once again become a sleeping beauty.

The moonlight glides over your slender form,

A silver glow that captures your gentle curves.

The cool night air that whispers of your grace.

Until the first morning light kisses you awake,

And you rise anew, radiant and proud,

For I am as beautiful as a sunflower.

Where Have You Been All Night?

Where Have You Been All Night?

As the sun dips below the horizon, the world succumbs to the embrace of night. Shadows deepen, and silence thickens. Alone, I lie in the stillness, my thoughts consumed by you. Where are you tonight, my love?

Through the faint glow of moonlight slipping past the curtains, I cast a glance at the empty space beside me. How I long to see the gentle gleam of silver light reflecting off your serene face. To press a tender kiss on your soft lashes, gaze into your warm eyes, and whisper a quiet goodnight. Yet, the emptiness remains, and I wonder, where have you gone?

As sleep begins to tug at my consciousness, my heart grows heavy with longing. I yearn for the sight of your cascading curls, the soft waves of your hair carrying the scent of a garden after rain. In my mind's eye, I see you draped in your favorite silken nightwear, its gentle folds resting against you, rising and falling with each delicate breath. I ache to know who might be entranced by your beauty tonight, in my stead.

In the quiet hours before dawn, the faint rhythm of rain taps against the roof, stirring memories of you. I recall the sight of you stepping from the shower, your hair slick and straight, glistening like a waterfall. Droplets danced along your skin, clinging briefly before tumbling to meet the ground. In that moment, I envied those beads of water, tracing paths across your form. If I could, I would trace a thousand such paths, each bringing you a thousand smiles. Perhaps then, I would not be left wondering where you are tonight.

As morning arrives, streaks of sunlight pierce the room, and the weight of a tender touch pulls me from my dreams. Warm kisses brush against my skin, and I feel your presence pressing against me. Slowly, I open my eyes to find you gazing back with those beautiful eyes, your hair falling like a soft veil around us. Your fingers glide to mine, intertwining, as if to remind me: you are here.

The silken barrier between us is gone; flesh meets flesh, warmth meets warmth. In your embrace, I am lost, and the questions of the night fade into nothingness. Have I woken, or am I dreaming still? I wonder, where have you been all night?

The Meeting of our Real and Virtual Worlds

The Meeting of our Real and Virtual Worlds

At last, we meet, once bound by the screen,
Now, face to face, where reality’s seen.
No more pixels between our hearts' desires,
May tomorrow, be our time to inspire.

We'll share the sunrise, the sunset’s glow,
The quiet moments where true feelings flow.
In life’s embrace, we’ll find our way,
In the dance of time, we’ll seize the day.

Your smile, so bright, a light so pure,
A glimpse of your soul, both calm and sure.
Through every smile, through every virtual word,
The depths of you, my heart has stirred.

Though our time may be fleeting and brief,
Captivated, I was, from the start of it all.
Thank you for being you, so true,
For showing the world your spirit through.

As we open our minds, hearts free,
May the world, too, open wide to see,
That here, in this moment, we stand and grow,
Our two real worlds collide, and together we will grow,
As the night glow fades the virtual world sets upon us again.

Love is a Funny Thing

Love is a Funny Thing

Love is a funny thing,
You love the morning sun that shines,
Your best friend, your family, your partner in life.
But how do we know which love is real?
Or is it beauty and nature that our hearts should feel?
Why can love be so different, so surreal?

If I say I love my dog,
Does it mean I don't love you?
For my dog can be my best friend, too,
Can we only love one, and not another?
Does the heart allow just one love to pursue?
Or are there many loves for us to seek?
Love is a funny thing.

We’re told to love just one,
But how can that be true?
I love my grandmother,
And my brother too.
Who controls my love for who?
Can we love more than one? Who says we cannot?
Love is a funny thing.

You may fall in love for a day,
Then realize it’s not meant to stay.
A week might pass, you still feel the same,
But love shifts, it’s never just a game.
Is it just best friends, from start to end?
Or does love bloom for better or worse, my friend?
Love is a funny thing.

We all want forever,
But does forever truly last?
Can love disappear with the next sunset,
Or be washed away with the next tide, so fast?
Is being best friends the truest deal?
What’s the meaning of love that we feel?
Is it soulmates, or just words we've heard?
Love is a funny thing.

Is making love the same as being in love?
Or are they two roads, side by side,
Leading to places we can’t always decide?
Can we love another, and still love the first?
Can love be touched, or am I touched by love’s thirst?
When I fall in love, is the only pain I feel is the cost of love?
Who controls when I am to love?
Love is a funny thing.

I love my food,
I love a cold drink,
But does that mean I still love you,
Or is love just a passing wink?
Who stops the feeling of love?
Who saves you from the sudden fall of love?
Love is a funny thing.

Does love have an age?
Can it cross all lines,
From the young to the old,
From the old to the young,
Is it timeless, or confined by time?
Love is a funny thing.

They say I should love just one,
But which one should it be?
My best friend, my dog, the morning sun,
My food, the cold drink next to me?
Can love make time stand still?
Or does love shift with time’s will?
Can love break hearts, or heal them so?
Is love so powerful it makes us glow?
Love is a funny thing.

You told me you loved someone else,
And I wondered, what does that mean?
Can love overlap, or must it be clean?
Am I in love with my dog?
Am I in love with the sunset’s glow?
Am I betraying your love by doing so?
How do we decide who to love, and how?
What love do we cultivate, here and now?
Love is a funny thing.

Can love be virtual, or must it be real?
Can you fall for a message, an email, or a show?
Does love have shape, a weight, a feel?
Is love so heavy it can crush the invisible,
Can love crush our spirit or thoughts untouchable?
Does it sparkle like your eyes, or like the morning glow
On waves that crash and fade below?
Is it in person, or just a glow?
Can a smile alone, make the love grow?
Love is a funny thing.

But maybe love’s not so funny at all—
If I had to choose, I’d stand tall.
In a world of shifting tides and wings,
There’s one truth my heart brings:
I would choose you, through everything,
Maybe love’s not so funny after all.

I Am Not, But...

I Am Not, But...

I am not your Instagram boyfriend,
capturing fleeting moments in a digital abyss—
the light in your hair,
your cascading reflection in the nearby mirror,
or the steam rising from your morning espresso,
all while highlighting your radiant smile.
I do not perfect your poses, ensuring envy blooms
among your ever-growing followers.

I am not your personal chef,
tantalizing your taste buds with every dish.
I do not master culinary trends
to match the shifting seasons of your diet—
vegetarian, vegan, carnivore, flexitarian.
I do not slave over the flames to craft feasts
to impress your friends.

I am not your lover,
teasing your body beneath satin sheets,
as moonlight catches the sheen of your soft skin.
The room does not echo with your whispered moans
or guard the secrets of our midnight embrace.

I am not your boyfriend,
sending late-night texts of promises and sweet nothings,
words spun to capture your beating heart.
I do not steal your dreams of others,
nor ask you to forget what might have been.

I am not your brother,
sharing secrets of the good, the bad, and the ugly.
I do not playfully grumble when you ask me to stay late,
protecting your virtue and creating chaos together,
the kind that becomes distant memories
and brings spontaneous smiles.

I am not your father,
ready to drop everything when you’re in need.
I do not ensure your plans are solid,
nor pick you up when mistakes leave you shaken,
whispering that everything will be okay.
I do not hold you close,
warming your heart when the world feels cold.

I am not your best friend,
spending endless hours on the phone,
laughing about yesterday, dreaming of tomorrow.
I do not share quiet moments of comfort,
sitting beside you, lost in silence,
yet complete in your presence.

I am not your soulmate,
forever tethered by the light in your eyes.
I do not walk beside you through the ups and downs,
helping you grow,
always understanding, always supportive.

I am not your pool boy,
with a rippled torso shimmering under the sun,
skimming the calm waters of your pool
as you sip on a watermelon margarita.
I do not bring you fresh croissants
or beam at you with a whitewashed smile,
radiant as the sun itself.

I am not your chauffeur,
driving you like Miss Daisy,
stopping for photos at your favorite spots.
I do not adjust the car’s temperature,
charge your phone, or open your door
with effortless grace.

I am not your I.T. guy,
keeping your devices updated and secure,
so you can send sweet messages,
plan future events,
and live a life untroubled by digital threats.

I am not your doctor,
listening to your heart through a stethoscope,
telling you there’s no cure for love,
nor a miracle for a heart that’s been broken.
I do not prescribe rest for your battles,
nor guide you between the medical and the spiritual.

But I am, and will be, all the above whenever you need me.
For you are my everything,
and I am all you need me to be.
You are my journey, you are my life.

You Are My Sun...Shine

When your eyes open,
the first rays of your smile
bathe the room in warmth,
filling every corner with your presence.

The spark in your gaze
finds the deepest shadows,
banishing darkness,
filling the void with your light.

Your energy ripples outward,
infectious and irresistible.
We marvel,
wondering how we could exist without you.

You scatter colors like prisms,
painting the world in hues of comfort and joy.
Even a unicorn would blush,
humbled by your rainbow sparkle.

As you radiate your natural glow,
the world pauses,
whispering, “Where have you been all night?”

Your brilliance,
reaching hearts far and near,
dazzle those who wander too near.
Your smile is so bright, even the sun stands in fear.
You are my universe.
Even when night falls,
I find solace in knowing
that with every dawn,
you’ll return to light my world once more.

Life would lose its meaning without you.
You illuminate my path,
guide my way,
and remind me:
You are my sunshine,
my everything.

Moments, what Moments?

What are moments?

Are moments time, another name for a second or hour or even a day?

Can moments be measured by time, by a maths equation?

How long or short can a moment be?

Are moments happy or sad, good or bad, fun or boring? 

Can moments change my life? 

Can I control moments?

These are questions we all ask, what is a moment, is it a feeling? Is it something we have done? 

Think of moments as a room with more than one door, each door leading to another moment, the door we choose will give us a new moment. Life is full of doors leading to moments. So therefore we can choose our path to different moments.

Moments can be a thought or it can be an event, it can be many small moments that make one big moment.  Our moment is how we remember the event. 

Life is full of moments, some we never take some we take too far, some we may try to avoid as we are worried about what others think.  But it is your moment, no body else owns your moment, own your moment.

Sometimes you just need to take the moment to see what is on the other side.  Sometimes we can choose a different path to give us a different moment, but maybe you will just end up in the same place just delaying the moment. 

Ask yourself is your moment going to hurt anybody? Are you going to learn from your moment? 

A smorgasbord of moments is being offered to us all the time, what we decide to do with these moments is up to you. You can feast, chew or nibble. This is your life, your path, your dream own your moment. 

Bad or sad moments, we all have them, the moment is over when you say, take the moment put it away and move on to a better moment.  

Happy moments can become unhappy moments when they end.  The moment is over, move on there are more happy moments ahead of you.

Regrets are moments not stored.  You are trying to change the moment but the moment is gone. Store the moment, move on and concentrate on creating a positive moment. 

Love, limerence and relationships is a moment too, you alone are not In control of this moment. 

Moments can create broken hearts and bad feelings. But why it was a moment, move on and think how lucky that person was to share some of your moments. If you need to share, there is plenty wanting to share moments with you. Or just enjoy the freedom of your own moments.

Labels, jobs, and fitness are all moments, you can change any of them any day.  You are in control of your moments. 

Once a Moment is gone a memory is created.  A memory is the same size as a moment.  

Create new moments, live for moments, and paint your memory full of moments. Enjoy the moments offered on your path, not everyone gets these moments. 

Life before and Now

Three years ago I was earning millions and dining in the finest restaurants and enjoying the worlds greatest cruises. 

Two years ago I was globe trotting the world passing through countries like they are a Mcdonalds drive thru. 

Last year COVID hit us all, the world shut down. I was trapped, surviving and just living not sure were life was taking me.

Today I am a bus driver, thanking the world that I am alive and I feel safe. Thankful I have a job. Cherishing each sunrise, and savoring each coffee I enjoy under its far reaching beams. Embracing the moments when I see the sun set on the mountain, creating a kaleidoscope of colors across its sparse ridge lines, silhouetted against the setting horizon. To walk outside and feel the icy rain drops on my shoulders. See the array of autum palettes drift from the over arching branches from above and scatter across our path.  Knowing I lived to see another beautiful day.

For those of us that survive COVID too see another day.  Should we not stop and say thank you for letting us remember the little things in life.

We are only as strong as each other, stop and embrace what we have.  Do not think about what could of been. Let’s of dream of what can be, let’s make our world a better place, we are alive. 

Are we an onion?

Just like a onion you say? Why an onion? Well have you ever compared an onion to your self I say?

Just like an onion we come in many colors and sizes, you have white ones, brown ones, red ones, yellow ones and green ones.  Do we not come in many colors and sizes. 

Just like an onion we have a hard exterior and if peeled back release moisture, layer by layer.  Does an onion not have a hard exterior on the outside and soft ones that release moisture too.  

Turn an onion one way, it has a tuff on top the other way it is bald.  Are we not mix of some with tuffs or bald just like an onion. 

Just like an onion if you peeled back the layers you will find the heart.  The heart is solid and the core of the onion.  Is our heart not the core to our many layers of skin and of our self being. 

Just like an onion we often wear a jacket to protect us from the harsh environment.  And sometimes we add layers to protect our core.  Peel off our layers  are we not as naked as the onion we just peeled.

Just like an onion it will sprout life to reproduce from it’s core. Life will also shoot from some of us to form more life around us.

Just like an onion we can be used in so many ways. We like to bake under the golden rays, simmer and steam in the sauna, boil our bodies in the hot bath.  If we drink too much are we not called pickled or canes not get in a pickle. 

Just like an onion we build layers of resilience as we grow.  Expanding ourself as we indulge, growing wider in our Centre’s. 

Just like an onion …… Are we a onion?

Life is like a fog

When the fog surrounds you. 

You can not see the life behind you to see what life may of been.  You cannot see who or what is behind or in front of you. 

The fog does not care who you are, it will surround you and swallow you up if you let it.  It does not pick sides, race, money, it sets upon us all the same. Only you can set yourself free by choosing your own path. 

But you can only move one step at a time forwards.  

Only true friends will find you in the fog. The rest will be doing the same thing when the fog clears.  But you are in a different place now, you choose your own path thru the fog. 

Enjoy life one step at a time, do not worry if you can not see the future or who you leave behind.  It will all make sense when you are ready to leave the fog and move on.