Last summer

Last summer
We lived in a yellow tent
Feeding each other
Cheese and salami sandwiches
and kisses

This summer
I write songs about heartbreak
And go running every day
Every time I kiss someone new
I compare their kisses to you

Too soft
Not enough tongue
Too strong
Too much tongue
Too squishy
Weird bitey thing going on
Nice enough
I guess

I should just kiss
That boy who's the complete opposite of you
and accept him
just the way he is

My Daughter (Climate march poem)

I must be young

to be so naive

to think that I can make a difference 

with these words that I speak

I stay up late writing verses

that yearn to be heard

spinning sounds out of silence

weaving peace with my words

knowing the only way I can speak peace

is to be it, breathe it

breathe in - breathe out

remember the zen teacher who taught you

that in every snap of the fingers

there are 65 individual moments

and in every moment

you have a choice

And I choose you

I choose truth

I choose bright blue skies

And baking fresh apple tarts with my daughter 

who's yet to be born

yet two years ago I planted an apple tree

So one day we will have fruit

I want to grow her a garden

I want to build her a house

I want to plant so many trees

that she never has to worry

about the forests disappearing

her hands are small and pink

we watch the sunrise together

I wish I could promise

she will never have to worry about anything

but she will inherit a world that needs healing

with a best before date

that expired before she was even born

and the best I can do

is teach her not to be afraid of the truth

The truth is

I want to promise her the world

I want to stop glaciers from melting

and ocean levels from rising

I want to protect her from floods and droughts

I want to promise everything will be OK

But I can't do it alone

They say it takes an entire village to raise a child

It will take every village, city and country coming together

to raise this daughter to be safe and strong

to create the world that we want to live on

But I can promise her we wont stop trying

I will be there by her side

holding her hand whenever she cries

Singing her songs of courage and hope

and hoping this story has a happy ending

but I don't know that yet

Its up to you and me

A bread-ful love haiku

He bought me flours
Wholemeal, self-raising and plain
And we fell in loaf

Three haiku about sleep

I apologise
Breaking up is really lame
Did you get some sleep?


I lie awake here
Wondering what sheep count when
They're trying to sleep?


Not a good idea
To sleep on a bicycle
Unless its a tandem

A gentle reality check

I want to taste your wisdom
Spread it thick on toast and eat it for breakfast
Wake me up with the story that tells me who you are
Let your voice become an extension of your heart
Replace that morning caffeine hit
With a gentle reality check
What really matters to you
And what are you doing about it?

So stop pretending you don't know anything
Because who but you knows the songs that your soul sings?
And only your hands can pluck the strings
To play the tunes that bring your dreams into fruition
There's no other way forward than to accept your position
That if you won't be accountable, then who will?

Who will learn to listen with warmth that melts self-doubt?
Who will learn to speak their truth aloud?
Who will learn to trust that we have everything we need?
Who will learn to cultivate compassion til it takes over the world?
Who will join me on the stage and be brave?
Will you?

The perfect poem

To write the perfect poem
Wait until a rainy day
Take the bus to a distant place
where no one knows your name
A seaside village
Or perhaps an outer City suburb
where you can't get a decent coffee
But anonymity allows you to wait
Until time doesn't exist anymore
And you can begin

To write the perfect poem
Wait until a rainy day
Then take the train to work
Because you don't want to bike today
You now have twenty precious minutes
To fill the page with transport-wobbly-scribbles
Yes it's noisy and smelly and you don't want to be here
But every moment counts if you want

To write the perfect poem
Wait until a rainy day
Take off all your clothes
And stand outside lifting your head and arms to the sky
Tell it all the secrets you've been hiding inside
Wrap yourself in clouds until you're warm and dry
And write
It doesn't have to be perfect