Friday, September 26, 2014



It's on its last legs, the monsoon.  A nip in the air's found its way in already.  And soon, very soon, these angry skies and rain and fog will give way to warm sunshine and clear blue skies.  The cold will close in on us by late afternoon and we'll snuggle into thick socks and woollies, and warm icy hands over heated coals. Mornings will waken us to crisp, cloudless sights that we can see forever and beyond through.

But I'll miss the sounds of the rainy season. The whiplash crackle of lightning, the boom of  thunder, the rain pouring down in torrents. Frightening but oddly comforting. And the sights of the wet season. The brightly coloured umbrellas, people moving about in blurred outlines outside wet car windows, the little Pol Pot skulls clustered on the glass, the world fogged over and greyed out. Uniquely beautiful.

Au revoir. When it leaves, I shall pick up my phone and earphones and comfort myself to sleep with sounds of falling rain.

Sunday, July 20, 2014

Against the Cosmos

I came across this picture on Instagram this morning, taken by a young man from Mexico - a very young man because he just graduated from high school a few weeks ago and says he's off to college soon. Now there are pictures and there are pictures. Some are flawless and perfect but leave you cold. Then some speak to you on a deeper level, making an instant connection that you can't quite put a finger to. This one awoke poetry in me.

On the edge of a world
I don't always understand,
I stand, a small presence, 
because I must
because I am
because in this infinite world
it couldn't have been a mistake
that I am.
My presence may be blurred 
in a world 
I don't always understand.
But I am. 

Here's to you, gess8

Friday, June 20, 2014

The Fog

And it comes again
this fog
stealing in silently 
clouding over in slow degrees
all that was crystal clear,
like the fog in my mind does