Sunday on Lismore Just outside my fenceA lamb chews her cudHer mother – fleece almost goneBar stubborn swathesNo hawthorn has claimed -Chews nearby, nose in the air They sing a Sunday airStaring at the first ferry- tourist laden –crossing on a gentle curve. The roses, read more

Presence is all To My Mother As I watch you moving nearer to memoryMy need to know you mushroomsSome days quite out of control You drift away from the landscape we sharedviews we thought permanent – dull evenshowing no sign of lossamused at my attempts read more

The Voice of Outrage The voice of outrage is never wantedjust craved so deeplywe learn to forget those who can’tslowly starve this knowing from hour to hour they die of being nice – inoffensive – suitable eventually rocking no boats they become becalmed on a read more

I cannot Be among strangers I cannot be among strangersI need an invitationto be redeemedand we all – all – must be redeemed free from sin we must bedelivered, pardoned and born againfrom not being allowedto not needing permission Space is essentialSometimes the slightest shift read more