Bee Loved


Eye on the Moon

full moon

Full Moon

Moon 2

Diary (England 1916)

His awkward writing

No better than my own.

Eager to be understood.

A century away-

But still

I connect.

the dawn:

Unabashed appreciation;

Of life,

Of nature.



Change us all.

We are both pulled to a

Foreign land.


It made us;

Still calls.

Time doesn’t change;

It just smiles.


My beloved;
Elusive one.
Scent of
Feral honey and
Satin cloaked in
My heart
When you
Words dance around you:

Why, if, may I, when?

Colours blend;
In the gloaming.
Mars and Venus
Your kiss;
Out of chaos.

A Complicated Love

She threw her pain down
Like a gauntlet.
A toy for a
Small child;
A game.
Badge of courage;
Strength under fire.
Too much truth
Can do much damage.

I Will Try…

May I grow to be the person I admire:
To ignore the thoughts that drag me down;
Search for courage;
Believe in myself;
Silence my doubts;
Create for myself and others;
Stand up for what I believe;
Build a home to nurture the world,
And live without fear.


You hide behind the fortress of your heart.
The face masks the lie.
You believed in forever;
Nervous fingers turn the golden sun.
Heart reaches out;
Longing for connection.
You would sacrifice much for love,
But they would risk nothing ;
Leave you in the cold to die alone.
Can life be so
The blood flows,
And heart beats against the chest.
Life seeks her own.
In the ploughman’s wake;
Only the strong survive.


I pushed his wheelchair
Into the theatre;
His sacred ground.
The stage was his world;
Escape from
Maybe the past.
Away from love and pain.
In the Christmas Carol
He always played
The comic relief.
Smile and laugh
Though your heart is breaking
And your world is falling.
They dedicated the performance to him
And he cried.
I refused.
I would be his rock.
As he was always mine.

All Things Georgian

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“Imagination is the beginning of creation. You imagine what you desire, you will what you imagine, and at last, you create what you will” – George Bernard Shaw

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Light & Shadow

Once more you hover near me, forms and faces Seen long ago with troubled youthful gaze. And shall I this time hold you, limn the traces, Fugitive still, of those enchanted days? You closer press: then take your powers and places, Command me, rising from the murk and haze; Deep stirs my heart, awakened, touched to song, As from a spell that flashes from your throng. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Faust, Part I"


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