…ideas jump at us and we scribble…



Young at heart


You say you need two women

What do you think we are? 

Buttons to sew on your lapel?

Flowers to pick as you go?

You say one woman is boring

What kind of guy are you anyhow?

Don’t you think women make conversation?

Or do you just take them to bed?

You say women are two a dime

Well, that depends on where you look, my guy

Maybe, you pick on the down and out

Women who’ve been battered to the ground

You say women are fickle and fussy

Well, we have a problem at hand

We are trying to deal with your ego so big

It just will not be contained 

You say women should know their place 

Should be seen but never heard

There’s something I’ve got to tell you, my man

If no other woman has

We condone your attitude

Not because we must

But because we are mothers

We’re sisters and then lovers

We listen to your problems

We put our lives at risk

We put aside our problems 

Just to keep you pleased 

And not because we fear you

And not always out of love

But because we are so much older

And you are so young at heart

1995  copyright reserved 

(ratatat tat tat tat tat……..) wow…my younger ‘self’…you tell ‘im!!!!!!  (he – mr young playa- did not like this poem at all…said it was too feminist…(lmao)…wow…(it’s all coming back to me…) was he turning me into a ‘man-hater’? Nah…(why am I even thinking about what mr young playa said or didn’t say…(tsk)…) next!!

This feeling 

This was written in 1995…(during my boomerang period…was on the rebound…trying to get over mr young playa…

What is this feeling that has crept over me?
This feeling- this emotion
That will not let me be
This riddle; this puzzle
I’m pleasing; I’m living
In the shadow of you
What is this feeling?
I don’t understand 
This craving; this longing
To be at your side
This puzzle; this riddle
I hang on your words
I read different meanings into things that you say
Oh where am I heading?
I’ve never felt this before 
What’s this that’s happening?
I’m losing my cool
What is this feeling?
Oh tell me…do tell
What is this feeling that has stolen my ‘flow’
1995 copyright reserved 

My 1995 ‘self’ was truly smitten…(hook, line and sinker!)

The twentieth floor 

I remember this one…(I was naughty)…boomeranged into a new relationship to get over Mr young playa…(silly…really…didn’t end well…)

She stood at the balcony- bewitched 
The warm night air barely a whisper 
The landscape set before her
From the twentieth floor everything was in miniature 
A thousand houses; a million bright lights 
The skyline a purple belt in the night
Churches, steeples, towers and roofs
Each told her a few home truths 
The view from a high-rise building 
As streets worm down alleys and junction into roads
The view from the twentieth floor
With all the trees in miniature 
Night traffic contrasts with silent homes
And it’s beautiful 
© 1994

Maybe…my younger self should have stayed in the new relationship…nice poem. 

The medallion 

Medals? Ok…

It seems so long ago;

But only yesterday, you turned my life around 

-I awakened to a reality I had always shunned 

You’ve loved me with such passion 

You’ve hurt me with such pain 

If medals were given for scorning emotion 

-You would not be seen

For with thousands of medals you’d be bedecked

-A walking medallion

6th April 1995 copyright reserved 

I rest my case…my 1995 ‘self’ was BESOTTED


I mean…come on! How hard is it to title a poem?? (well, pretty hard for my younger self…)

For little things; for big things

For waters stirred -deep; shallow 

For time spent without being wasted 

For laughter that lacks a plastic smile 

For words that guide with an open mind

For friendship as it’s meant to be

Thank you

1995 copyright reserved

Awww…(my 1995 ‘self’ appreciated her friends) …nice

The British 

I like this already…something different 

British trains crack me up

The glares; the stares and the ‘what-not’s’

It puzzled me; but I now do see

Why the British are so prude

In their trains they sit

Antagonists to everything that’s new

1995 copyright reserved 

Okay…talking about transportation (moaning about transportation)…what else? …the weather? So my 1995 ‘self’ did small talk. That’s nice to know…(I might have been able to chat to my younger self about ‘everything and nothing’ …love a bit of small talk…me

Tell me…if you can

Sounds ominous…but I like it!

Do you think I should be gratefui 
because you take me out for a drink?
Do you think I should be grateful 
because you care to smile at me?
Do you think I should die if you walk away
leaving me high and dry
Do you think I should love you
when you hit me and curse when I am only human?
Do you think I should bow down to your every wish
ever so grateful to be alive; living in your shadow?
Do you think I should deny myself what I want in life
so you could feed on your ego?
Do you think I owe you my life…my thoughts…my heart
when you are selfish with yours?
I don’t think so
© March 1995

Ok…feisty…bit worried about the …hit me and curse…I’m pretty sure Mr young playa didn’t hit me (I hope he didn’t ever…can’t quite remember any incident). Another worrying fact is that this poem was written a month before ‘heartbreak’…so if my young self was this feisty, why…(I know why…infatuation of the highest order…not going to call it love…)


Oooh…another love song to Mr young playa

Exquisite, gentle, fervent persuasion 

lead me to the bridge

Take hold of my fears

Toss them to the wind

Take me by the hand

Lead me to the light

-Breathtaking and bright

Your touch makes me water

with expectation 

Your kiss is a dream come to life

And the love that you make

is persuasion 

-That leads me to the light

© 3rd April 1995

OMG!!!…(I need to check something…oh wow!!…this poem was written three days before my younger self wrote ‘heartbreak’…oh no!!! I don’t think I like this journey into ‘self-discovery’ …well, how my younger ‘forever writing poetry’ self thought…poor chil’ (actually serves my ‘1994 self’ right…gullible to the core)…I shouldn’t be so hard on my younger self …all that experience has made me who I am today (I guess…to an extent)


Not again…untitled…

Life is made of little victories 

Like jewels in the light 

Twinkling gems that shine so bright 

Reflecting our plight 

When confused we sit on fickle thrones

Adored by all and none

For plastic smiles and empty laughs 

Pay homage to our faults 

Life is made of lip service 

Betrayals of the heart

For strongest men;

The largest crowd wil gather where they are

And when they’re weak

Not one of these will stoop to break their fall

Life is made of depth and width

Our strength from deep within

For true living is in our hearts

A bounty from within 

That glows so bright for all to see 

In this world’s fickle light 

© 1995

Well, I definitely was a deep thinker. I wonder if I still think this deep? (seriously doubt it…too playful…) I must have been walking around with furrowed brow (weight of the world on my shoulders…bless)

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