sestina to spring

I sit under the gaze of May’s fresh sky

the clean white blossoms, scattered, gleam like pearls

and bring alive the undergrowth of green 

where April saw but shadows of this hope

and now there lives a riot of survival 

amidst the death and worries of the world 


spreading like a fog over the world 

darkening the swiftly clearing sky

humanity’s concerns for its survival 

life now held as carefully as pearls 

no longer will our spring be one of hope

no longer will our leaves thrive and be green 


but look up now, see Nature’s arms of green 

reach down to spread her love across the world 

her breath floats on the wind and whispers hope 

a new found clarity has filled the sky 

Earth’s oyster opens, bright are all her pearls

the flowers dance with life not just survival


but we live on a knife-edge of survival 

our skin turns grey while Nature’s face is green 

we longed so much for riches and for pearls 

we lost the life that used to fill our world 

our lives fall short beneath the endless sky

horizons bring us fear, no longer hope 


yet all there is for us to hold is hope 

the hope that there is more than just survival

that we will feel the warmth of summer sky 

that we will turn to find the richest green

and look upon this place – not just our world

a living heaven, more to us than pearls 


in store for us are love and life, and pearls

when we look straight ahead with eyes of hope 

Nature holds the power of our world 

the will to bring disaster or survival 

to give us red, and pink, and blue and green 

a promised arc as sunset fills the sky 


a sunrise soon will greet that same bright sky

the trees and meadows all will grow back green

the world will tell the stories of survival 

solitude – journal entry

During my first few weeks at university, I have had so many things to do and think about, and I’m happy to have had the chance to channel this into writing. As part of my homework for my course, I was asked to begin writing a daily journal. I’ve found this really fun, and beneficial in that it makes me write something every day. Below I’ve shared one of my journal entries 🙂

1/10/19  9:00pm

The hum of traffic fills my ears. My brain is tired of processing and filtering all of the information from the day. People rush past, and I need to be on my way, but just for a moment I stand there. Still.

Everything continues around me. Traffic and people hurtle past, all on their way to somewhere, part of a story into which I can gain only a glimpse. It feels wrong to stand here doing nothing in such a busy world. Even though it’s getting dark the city still feels so alive. Lights illuminate everything, blurring the distinction between night and day, and I wonder if this place ever sleeps. I look up to the sky – the colour of my mistakes, my grief streaked in a clouded white stripe along the horizon. But this is not the place for regret.

It seems like history has outlined itself in the silhouetted shadows of every building around me. In every brick, every corner, every face of each person passing, I am reminded of things that were, things that are, things that could have been. Everything has played a part in bringing me to now. Here, in the grimy puddles at the edge of the roadside, I am reminded that I have a choice. For once in my life I don’t turn in uncertainty to glance at who stands beside me at the kerb. I no longer think with impending doom that here, with my toes inches from the tyres grinding against the road, I am one step from my fate.

I can choose to move when I want to, to cross when I’m ready. I cannot be beckoned by someone on the other side, nor pushed by someone behind me. That’s the beauty of being alone. This is not loneliness any longer, but the freedom to be solitary and be content with it.