The buttercup yellow butter Trickles down my fingers There is nothing better than toast and jam On a windy evening I hum a little, in-between bites I do this when I am happy Pressing my tongue to the roof of my mouth  And making it clip like a reassuring footstep Occasionally I may be tempted…

Silence cocoons me like snow on a winter’s day Keeping my ankles wrapped  Safe as walking through marshmallow  I like leaving behind a path of footprints –  As if I have truly been there  Not just silenced and cocooned inside my head – But truly being.

Looking Back https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/03/friday-writings-219-looking-back.html Perhaps now it is time to look forward  Rather than looking back The choices I have made are drawn strong on my body But they are not the sole definition of who I am – And what I still could be  Even looking out the window  Seeing the fields and hills in…

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/anger.html Perhaps like paint anger fades with time What was once red slides into blue  Like dipping your toes in a soothing tide Letting the universal sky heal and love you – For what you are – not for what you have done –  Or used to do All feelings ebb and flow  Perhaps with…

I still hear your voice – it makes me feel strong on foggy days It is both powerful and vulnerable – as perhaps you were And I am too – the phoenix from the flame  You gave me comfort and strength  Led me to your homeland where I wandered the streets Sat in churches and…

“It all beliesOur existence; we wait, and are still denied.” The winter lull is like a pillow. I sink my head into it. Feel the comfort of its support. In my pocket my treasures rattle. A tiny little secret. No longer safe. But I like to warm my treasures in my palms. Make them shine…

https://newwhatsgoingon.blogspot.com/2026/03/ten-years-later.html I cannot remember ten years ago Perhaps the days have been both good and bad I am still here, which is good I suppose  There are no photographs or memories Nothing to celebrate – no photographs or memories  Inside I whisper to myself – I am still here I have very few intentions –…

I stand by the window  The sun is rising and the birds are singing  Cotton wool clouds pass by I imagine they tase like sugar   Big, juicy bundles of cotton candy As sweet as marshmallow The thought makes me feel full inside Like it is worth staying another day I would like to walk…

I place the tiny bluebird In her soft and gentle hands She smiles as broadly as the moon Nestles it like a hundred golden pennies or fallen star dust I know that she will let it coo and sing Then let it fly away.

https://poetsandstorytellersunited.blogspot.com/2026/03/friday-writings-217-your-message-to.html I used to think my story was impossible to tell Then I discovered kindness – humanity  It is in the gentle things – the soft touch of caring fingers A smile in-between the silences- just knowing, perhaps If we learn how to treat ourselves well  We can learn to love and honour the differences…