Fishing with a Pen

Sometimes I hear verses
jangling in my skull.
With inky nets and self made bets
the loud ones, I so cull.

Sometimes it’s a clumsy catch
– a head vacant and hollow
In times like these I drop the pen
and see what brings tomorrow.

Like me

Don’t make me you
Mother, lover

I am my own
Can’t you see?

And you (who is me)
Don’t make me them
Find me, like me
Set me free.

Will You ♥︎

Will you take my hand?
I will show you my jive
If you’ll show me your elegant waltz.
We will dance together
From now till forever
Baring our brilliance; baring our faults.

3 short ones


Two months of fun
Sequins and smiles
Kisses in your car
Playfully sneaky
Lavishly cheeky
As the best of affairs often are


Can we unknow?
I want to unknow
Let’s go back to
The way we were
Let’s unlive
Let’s ungive
Backwards steps
Farther, farther

Just my luck to get

Another bouquet of tri-colour roses?
How sweet! You want me to smile.
Petals and stems…
why don’t these men
try cleaning up once in a while!

Fall of Soul

How they sway in the air!
How they prance on the street!
These retired old leaves
How their souls still beat.

In October

October is a special kind of month
Oranges, reds and yellows enchant us
On rainless days, especially
We go for walks in the park
We’re still on bikes and scooters
(But we don’t hang our laundry out anymore)
We still wear sunglasses
(But definitely not sandals)
We are relatively busy
(But only relatively)
Pumpkin armies confront us
Travel doesn’t occupy our minds so much
We nestle a bit deeper into our homes, on our sofas
Begrudgingly, we put the heating on
We unravel our maroons
And cancel appointments with the hairdresser
(Our necks need the warmth)
We press snooze again
and again
and again

We do all of this and in between
We burn autumn-spiced candles
And feel snug and smug
Because we’ve done it again;
We’ve mastered the art of living
In October.

The way the birds move

Some birds flit, jagging through the air
Others glide, curvingly smooth
When you’re out walking, do you stop and stare?
Do you notice?
The way the birds move

90 minutes

Strong tackle, nice flick
Now they’ve got a corner kick
Bounce, head, hits the pole
Dribble, tackle, dive, roll
Ref’s eyes, card of yellow
Puffed cheeks, needs to mellow
Swift feet, good control
Crowds roar, number 9
Well, already, half-time!
Attempts, possession, stats say…
Back on pitch, back to play
Clever turn, watch ’em dance
Can’t predict it, still a chance
Only 20, what a riser
Off and on, substitute
Blasts in, space to SHOOT
Too high, never dips
Nice try, final minutes
Win or not, ends the same:
Whistle blows
Another game.

What use is it

The grass of yesterday is always greener
Memory is an excellent gardener
How you linger with that gauzy lens
Gazing at a well-pruned facsimile
While the grass of tomorrow is growing
– weeds and stems alike
Why are you over there, little one?
What use is it
Come here and tend to this side
Tend to the grass of today.