Poetry & Song Lyrics

A place where my poetic licence is practiced.



Radio IP - One of my earliest and most precious memories.

A Hint Of Pink

Under my left hand I feel her mouth Under my right Her hearts beats fast

Addiction & Subtraction

There are only minuses, my mind knows this. Yet my heart still longs for the smell, for the taste; for the tacit implication of wanting something I know is hurting me. But such is the drug,

An Age Of Difference

She is beauty made ugly by place and circumstance

An Agnostic's Prayer

Time will tell, I guess.

An Angel Walked By

I sucked it in, Like it was my very first breath.

Animal Instincts

In your secret smile, I see vixen’s teeth, Tearing at my hide To get to the meat beneath. In your furtive glance, I see eagle’s eyes, Watching for me to run

As It Gets

Another set of song lyrics I wrote in a single flash recently - sometimes these things virtually write themselves

Autumn Chill

No amount of Summers Can make up for a bitter Autumn


she struggles against their pull, flailing for the surface.

Blooms Of Chaos

What lies within...

Boys and Girls and Music

Heavily scented and bunched together like perfume-heavy spring blossoms,

Cardiac Navigation

According to some I’ve never had much form Always been considered a middle runner But you know what they say When your stand out in the pack You’re really noticed

Caught Out

The evidence was damning; There was nothing I could say To deny the existence Of the terrible deceit I’d hidden. I tucked it in the pages Of some forgotten book on a shelf


The night rained streamers, Red, blue and green, Out of gunpowder clouds. We held hands Under a woolly blanket Not to keep warm But purely for our own Licentious joy.

Death of a People-Watcher

See, this is what comes from writing poetry on a bus...


Our first date


In the back lot Behind an old grease factory A hulking metal shell Is trying its hardest to return To the earth from where it once came Rust flowers on its doors Have blossomed and climbed

Love As Formication

You know that itch you can't scratch? It just might be love...

To The Skies

Where is inspiration when you want it?

The Speed Of Dark

There is no where to hide from depression

Unqualified Spin Doctor

Politicians beware: we know what you're about

I Remember

The memory of you Sustains it all.


Her face is a brood of sullen glances stolen from silent screen actresses

Lust Is Dry

This plain girl Is more than simple She’s hidden treasure Under a wimple

The Cranky Man

As I get older, I find myself less inclined to grace and tolerance towards those who show none for others. I teeter-totter on the edge, berating lack-of-indicators,

My Gift To You

I wanted to give you something You’ve never been given before Something deserved To make you think Before you speak in future And bash someone else senseless

I Am Folklore

Growing Up Competition Entry

Planting Bitter Crops

I'm really not a bitter person but...

Night Swimming - Edited Version

Thanks to those who offered advice - hopefully this reads even better now. Please let me know what you think.

Recently Addled

When words simply won't do

Forever Grateful

If I was trapped under an avalanche If I was being thrown to the lions If I was caught in the middle of a riot I wouldn’t want to be with you If I was carrying a deadly infectious disease

New Tricks

It is a great distance for a single man to cover Between being alone in the world to taking a lover The intimacy required is never easily expressed

Question Answered

I watched a bird Regard a post Like it was an alien tree As I watched A thought occurred “What would the bird think of me?” Do I even rate In the bird’s view

On The Beach

I reached out Waiting for my hand To be slapped away As it had been before Even though mine was alone Despite being surrounded By silent stronger types You grabbed at me

Food Lover

I’m dining on memories, Snacking on snippets of conversation, Gobbling stolen glimpses, Eating up everything I remember Of you as you were. I loved the you I remember;

Under And Above

Underneath, there is a fluid Running through the soil and sandstone Blood dark and rich with tales Buried deep and weighed down with buildings

Escape Artists

The tools for escape are many But we require only a few A beautiful day, each other’s company A pleasant repast and a bottle or two There is no scratching holes in walls

Into The Ether

Where are my words? My considered responses, And the little pieces of wisdom I try to impart? In a single glitch they’re sucked up into the ether Before I can post them.

From The Inside

The only truth she knows Comes and goes The more she tries to reckon And the lads outside Laugh and deride her Yet her traitorous eyes still beckon She opens her doors wide

Tipping Point

At what point does a good relationship fall over?

No Choice

An entry for this week's Inspiration Point. Inspired by Nymph's story - see it here http://www.abctales.com/story/nymph/kissing-games

Her Majesty's Nature

Buried amongst olive green leaves Pink camillias attract a brilliant flash Yellow and white but barely seen The Honeyeater does his mad dash Beyond, in the tall Norfolk pine

The Polluters

They gather in their winter coats; Stare off distantly. I nod and smile and stand a while; They say not a word to me. They strip the trees, raze the ground Give over all they find.


Summer is a drunk musician Playing our favourite song. Winter is a wizened man Trying to sing along. Autumn is a widowed matron Sitting off to one side. Spring is a hot-headed teen

I Shall Ask No More Of You

I shall ask no more of you, For your scuppered charms won’t hold. Time has enveloped you kindness, Stolen your once-strong resolve. Yes, I shall ask no more of you

Vitreous Ill-Humour

You laughed at me so hard, It made you cough and splutter; Tears poured from your eyes As you pounded your sides and choked. I woke in the night crying and wondering


Your mother, she wanted peace But your brother, he wanted war, So they put a gun in his hand Told him what he was fighting for. Truth be told he didn't care, All he wanted was the fight;


Your grasp of my logic is limited by the effort required for you to listen and not simply hear the sounds coming out of my mouth. I’m not here tomorrow; the show ends today.

Songwriter's Night

The Little Theatre I Possibly Am - Inspiration Point

Grumpy Pants

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't find my happy trousers so I had to put on my grumpy pants instead. I didn't want to put them on, They're scratchy and itchy And make me cranky.

Local Colour

A mealy mouthed bird With hair so absurd I thought she was a he cross dressed Throws words like punches In garbled bunches She has so much to get off her chest Across the wide bar

Views From A Seaside Balcony

Clock hands catch missing time As a new days looms and knits Into a sunrise on the horizon The ocean wears white caps Of tidings from faraway places Carried by favoured currents

The Party Prank - For Inspiration Point

Entry for this weeks Inspiration Point

Distant Star

But don't let me stop you from checking out the bright lights.


You give me a practiced Elizabethan wave and smile your love at me.


So, what's on your mind?

Time and time again

An exploration of karma

Weary - An Imperfect Pantoum

I've been reading about different forms in poetry and remembered a Pantoum I'd written some time ago. I thought I'd post it here to see what others thought of the form.


Inspired after reading an account about contestants for the next edition of 'America's Top Model' rioting in New York.

Waiting For A Change

Summer is packing bags with stockpiled memories of lazy beach days;

Too Much Detail

30 words - Inspiration Point

When We First Met

You said I stank while I thought I smelt good for a boy who’d be playing all day in the sun with a ball and a stick and a small dog with a big bark.

On and on

Another broken Pantoum

Down In The Yard

What lies beneath the patch on the ground?

Scarlet Spell

Red-headed delights

Too Late, Baby

And just like the song, you'll never make it.


Where does it all come from?


Another one for the IP

Look Out

Women, I love 'em...


I cannot see the audience; they're hidden to me beyond deep red velvet.

Where Is The Mystery?

Secret men (and women) out of business

I Don’t Get Leonard Cohen

Taste is such a personal thing

The Year's Best Night

Tales from the pub-side

You Wrecked Me

For all the girls who loved and left me

When Lions Meet

He is the King of this grimy parade

Red Dress

I started writing this for the 'Red Dress' competition last year but never finished. Finally, the last stanzas came to me. Hope you enjoy it.

Fork In The Road - updated draft

A first draft of song lyrics - it is amazing what listening to some great new music does for me. More to follow...

Mirror Imaged


Sleep Of The Dead

Lyrics for a new song

Wrecking Ball

Another set of lyrics for a new song

People Don't Read Anymore

There are always exceptions, of course.

In Another Life

Queen in training...

Fallen Prats

The clowns are out in force

How To Build A Fire

Fires don’t start by themselves, you know.

Too Much For One Day

Yet another set of song lyrics - looking at trying to post a few of these on a music blog soon - for those interested, I will post a link here.


A night in town for some hard working men.

Over The Blue Mountains

Olive-tipped white bones press up against the sky; release a haze of blue over the Great Divide.

Rambutan - IP Response

Rambutan - a lychee-like fruit that grows in south-east Asia - particularly Malaysia, Thailand and Indonesia.

Dreaming Of Summer While Approaching Winter

Its not even winter in Australia yet and I'm already wishing it were summer.

It Never Gets Old

The body might wither but this love will never die...


Weeds are kings of the urban jungle

For The Benefit Of A Lone Kite

A lone kite whistles in flight, barely moving his wings.

Through Glass, Wired

On the 25th of November, Australia celebrates White Ribbon Day, a campaign to stop violence against women. This poem was written as a response to reading some of their stories.

I like the way...

...feigning a vague sense of domesticity.

Who, What, Where, How?

What becomes of the rebellion if the rebels are no more? What happens to the message if the voice is old and poor? Where do all the good songs go if there’s no one left to sing ‘em?

Always You

I spend too much time thinking about what I'd do if you were here when your not. Then when you are, I feel kind of awkward and shy, almost like we've...

Founded Fears

I watch as the vitality of the day slips into the grey lazy vagueness of dusk. In the backyard next door, some kids are banging on half a 44 gallon...

On Writing

Life snatches batches of time; of rhythm and cadence; of lasting rhymes that crowd together and explode from my mind in verbal splendor, raw,...

Have You Ever?

Have you ever seen it rain in Sydney after a hot summer’s day at the beach, when the dark clouds roll in from the ocean so low they’re almost in...

Deflated - Song Lyric

You have the lightest step, you walk on clouds, make it rain. Down in the dumps I live with bitter smiles, collecting pain. But sometimes I look to...


I am rudderless. Free of encumbrances, unchained from dogma, following my own moral compass. I heed not the beckoning of calls to pray, nor do I...