Pots and Lids

When I was ten I read a book of short stories for teenagers. Entitled “Every pot has a lid,” it spoke against pre-marital sex and how you should wait to find your perfect fit, how there was someone meant just for you. It is a notion that deeply resonated with me, to the extent that I believed I had found my lid at fifteen and held on to it anxiously, even despite it clearly not sealing the edges of the so-called pot. In my twenties it took the shape of believing in soul mates, so much so that I once put everything on the line pursuing what I believed was destiny. This lid, here, at all costs, is a very dangerous belief. What I have learnt through many tears and trials is that no lid fits perfectly, what makes a lid and pot fit well and weather life is the will to mould, to expand, to shrink, to move.

And I think it helps if every now and then you look at your lid and think how damn sexy its curves are.

Copyright Hiraeth 2015


Recorded on Facebook

Recorded on Facebook
Our forever end
On your timeline captured
That which we could not mend.
Along with the last photo
Of romantic us:
Me with a distant look,
A preoccupation that there
Must be more:
More love, more meaning, more
Than this,
You in a Rip Curl shirt, with your
Off centre smile,
Completely content,
Unaware of the approaching trial.
Recorded on Facebook
Our forever end
On your timeline captured
That which we
Not to mend.

Copyright Hiraeth 2015

Gardening (with God)

I think God romances me in my garden. And before you think I have entirely lost the plot, let me explain. In the last two years I have grown green fingers. I find myself completely peaceful scrounging in the dirt, planting new life and my favourite: creating new plants from existing ones. I spend time there every day, even on the rainy, duvet days. My soul is peaceful most days and on the days there is frustration, anger, I find enormous release in pruning, sometimes going completely overboard and ending with a lobsided shape (our one hedge is a collapsing triangle – I now greet my neighbour every day). It is my quiet time, my time to reflect, re-focus and release and my time alone with God.
I never knew there was a Frangipani plant in my garden until it flowered for the first time. It is my favourite flower. I took it as a welcoming card from Him, this, here is your home. In the past few weeks I have been questioning life, the ebb and flow and seasons and as I was weeding furiously in between my aloes, I discovered a new seedling with delicate white flowers that look like little bells hiding in the shadow of a leaf. And He said, there is always beauty, there is always a second chance. 
He always speaks. Sometimes in the smell of the sea, in the call of seagulls, sometimes in the destruction sowed by snails (those little buggers drive me nuts). He reminds me that even though things change, they break and bleed, there is always love, there is always hope.

Love conquers all (sometimes)

If I just love him enough
And show it
He will change, empower, raise
Himself from the ashes
He will prove all the naysayers wrong;
My love will inspire him
To become the man I know
He can be, was meant to be,
The one I need him to be.
If I just love him enough
And prove it
He will get help, be stable, put his
Demons to death;
He will valiantly slay them for me
Giving us a fairytale ending
Forever entwined, as meant to be
(open your eyes, open now to see
sometimes love does not conquer
save yourself, set him free).

Copyright Hiraeth 2015

All the moments

I want you to love me
In my proudest moments,
The ones where I surprise
Even myself
At the goals I have realised
But more than that:
I need you to love me
In my weakest ones,
The ones where I stand
Drenched in destruction,
Depression, disappointment,
Sinking in a shallow pit
Of who I am not,
With my heart bleeding
At its seams,
Hold who I am
While I reconstruct my

Copyright Hiraeth 2015
PAD Challenge 2015 Day 24:
For today’s prompt, write a moment poem. The moment can be a big moment or small moment; it can be a good moment or horrible moment; it can affect thousands or matter to just one person. Some moments happen in crowded rooms; some happen in the most quiet of spaces. Find yours and write a poem.

History unexplored

You once drew a map
With directions to my work.
If only you had noticed,
You would have seen
That scribbled on that paper
Was part of my dream.
But you failed to see
And I did not want to say,
Life happened and we went
Each on our way.
Sometimes late at night
I wonder about that history unexplored,
The secret treasures hidden
Behind that bolted door.
Sometimes when I cannot sleep
I dream of you,
And sketch you a map to my heart,
Because it was yours,
You just had to make a start.

Copyright Hiraeth 2015
PAD Challenge Day 22:
For today’s prompt, write a historic poem. It could be a poem about a landmark event, specific battle, an era in time, or whatever you consider a historic happening.


I have to confess:
I fell in love with you
that first day,
the first time I saw you surf,
watched you move in the waves,
melt into the elements.
Wind, earth and water
knew your name and
greeted you like long-lost friends.
Your entire being came alive.
(mine was near death).
I watched your soul breathe
and exhale
(mine was all anger and anxiety).
You were completely immersed
in the moment, lost in a different
(I was stuck in reality).
Sun, sea and sand merged into
a poetic picture as you
walked back to shore
and I realised I had missed
half the story,
there was so much more.
And as fire ignited within,
I understood why
Aristotle knew there had to
be one more element.
A bit of history:
Aristotle added a fifth element, called aether, reasoning that whereas fire, earth, air, and water were earthly and corruptible, since no changes had been perceived in the heavenly regions, the stars cannot be made out of any of the four elements but must be made of a different, unchangeable, heavenly substance.

Copyright Hiraeth 2015
PAD Challenge Day 13:
For today’s prompt, write a confession poem. For some poets, this may come naturally–confessing feelings, actions, and/or intentions. For others, it may be hard to get personal. That’s OK; take on another persona and write a “confession” for that person, animal, inanimate object, whatever.