Rhythms of Retrospect



She was eighteen

a country girl, child of the wilderness

stagnating in the vapid blandness of suburbia

breathless, suffocating in rancid air

that hung as an unseen cloud of industrialized miasma…

… rooftop obscured rooftop, a sea of sharp corners

jostling for juxtaposition, with no room to breathe;

She walked in pseudo silence, rising in early morning grey

milkless coffee forgotten as she listens to the radio

… fall of Cambodian capital Phnom Penh

collapse of Pol Pot’s savage regime –

– and on with the weather, and

Earth, Wind and Fire’s latest

After the Love Has Gone;

Suburban streets doze as she greets the day

intercity train clattering past as humanity

scratches and yawns

tuning in to Sammy Sparrow and O’Callaghan

2UE breakfast show at its best…

… breakfast scents permeate the air

eggs and toast-

– but the suburban street is almost empty

a gentleman smoking by his gate

his dog, of indiscernible breeding

claims first place at a thin sad tree…

a jogger swings wide, arching around

a parked delivery van

as she makes her way to the train station;

Littered platform, windswept and barren

– a reveler left over from Sunday Night Sessions

sleeps it off on a shadowed bench…

… other early risers scattered along platform 1

waiting for the city train

entrenched in an everyday routine

there seemed no escaping…

… from somewhere comes the tinny sounds

of a transistor radio,

Shah leaves Iran after a year of turmoil

weather update

and, Electric Light Orchestra

Don’t Bring Me Down…

… too late, she thought

this suburban coffin has done that already;

The train clanks

through backyards and blue-collar sweatshops

past a hundred empty churches and a score of empty schools

micro-communities, suburbia and the mills they toil in

animations of living, encapsulated

beneath a dome of shiftless stale air…

… passing through industrialized mayhem with a rattle and clang

before hissing to a stop beneath the waking city-

– fluorescent lighting hums, blinking out a hidden message to

a boy with a guitar, playing for coins under a yellowed poster

extolling the benefits of milk to a child’s development;

Nexus of city platforms purging the flow of humanity

onto city streets… sudden daylight superimposed on

the blurred reality of rattling trains and underground tunnels…

She wore shades of purple violet blue

flowing layers in silks and hippie cheesecloth

her feet rang with bells at every step

hair flying like ribbons on a maypole –

– she knew she didn’t fit in here anymore than mundane ‘burbs

a flowing cloud of indigo streaming through business suits

and miniskirts… boutique owners on 7 inch heels

she passed them by as if they couldn’t see her

as if she couldn’t see them;

At the far end she stopped at a coffee vender

– large extra shot extra sweet

she strolled into the city park

patrolling for a bench beneath a tree…

… a church group sat by the water

bible debate in full swing

on the steps of the gazebo two lads

in animated discussion- a Mad Max religion was born;


She was eighteen

child of the wilderness

looking for trees in animations of city shadows.




On Nights like This – Art & Poetry

Connection 3way photo manip flipped and merged mll slg

Breathing Deep, Delving Deep

Reality of thought takes hold, cinematic visions glow

tuxedo crow in poetic flow, the melody begins to grow

Sentinels of the passage of Time

trees of wisdom and ancient rhyme

she walks within their tireless embrace

medicated is she, by their forest grace

Stargazer smll

Soothed by winter-fragrant breeze

in silence she walks with measured ease

thoughts unfold in cosmic scenes

Earth Energy, muse for her dreams


Breathing deep, delving deep

lingering in jade puddles where shadows sleep

whispering Wilga Willow gently sweeps

fallen leaves into wind-blown heaps…

Starry Starry Night

Reality of thought takes hold, cinematic visions glow

tuxedo crow in poetic flow, the melody begins to grow

Breathing deep, delving deep

She explores hidden spaces in her mind

inner galaxies giving birth

to epiphanies of grand design.




All Art and Poetic Thoughts Copyright

Sharonlee Goodhand©31-Mar-16

Wondermazium – Digital Imagery – Life Before Man…

Life Before Man…

… in a time steeped in mystery

                primordial matter evolved

                                eyes, limbs, feathers fur or scale

From  primeval beginnings, Microscopic organisms

gave birth to the theory of evolution;


All Art and Poetic Thoughts Copyright

Sharonlee Goodhand©31-Mar-16

From Primordial Clay







SeaLife 001 small slg


SeaLife 004 small slg

All Art and Poetic Thoughts Copyright

Sharonlee Goodhand©31-Mar-16



When Sleep is Foreign



There is a more to me than simply my spoken words

more than the rhymes that spill and spin onto a page…

… there is more to me than what you see;


Thoughts run deep in those hours when sleep is foreign

and minutes tick deafeningly into the seething silence…

… contemplations race helter skelter into chaos

night breathes heavy in the echo between unheard sighs

where remnants of wistful melancholy breed moments of desolation …


Is this life

these days that stretch and tumble and drag into yesterdays lived

but not breathed, as one might breathe in the very essence of communion –

lived, without soul connection and spiritual union, the synergy of

souls joined, connected through mutual understanding of love

and what love is…


Reality stares out from a two faced mirror, trading looks with destiny

and caught between the two… I hold together what’s left of me

for there is a more to me than simply my spoken words

more than the rhymes that spill and spin onto a page…


… somewhere a heart beats in time with mine

I hear the steady pulse in the echo of my soul

the sweet rhythm of their breathing

rocks me to sleep at night

and if it is meant to be, that we never find each other in this life

perhaps… perhaps we will come together


– in our next.


Poetry & Art SharonleeGoodhand©

Take My Name and Number (I will Not Be Silenced)

Authoritarian hierarchical

will not silence me

gunboat diplomacy

will not silence me


I do not fear them

– jail me, starve me, deny me

the innate rights of all humanity

I will not fear them


They cannot

 will not

silence my words

my art

my thoughts

my heart

I will not be silenced


I will not sit quietly


while this chaos reigns

I will not turn a blind eye

to the violence and pain

I will not ignore starvation

death of innocents

extinction of species


I will not be silenced

            take my name and number, if that feeds your ego

                        but I will NOT be silenced.


Art & Poetry – SharonleeGoodhand©22-Nov-15 


Thoughts Left Trailing…


Thoughts Left Trailing…

Walking on instinct, thoughts mapping out

the steps of my day-

– final destination 36 kilometers

on a bus that stops-all-stops

through rural towns linked by a busy highway…

… I enjoy that route

from metropolis to metropolis

through undulating hills

past grassy plains and strawberry farms

dairy-cows-grazing knee deep pasture…


… where was I… that’s right, walking on instinct

planning out the steps of my day

so involved was I

I almost missed the fresh bright changes of Spring-

– the little things, that almost slip by

unseen by inward gazing eyes

last remnants of morning dew

glossy leaves of pinkish hue

budding weeds, purple and blue

grace the borders of the path…


Morning air feels perky

feint traces of Winter linger in the Spring

not yet burdened by the humid heaviness of Summer –

– mentally ticking off the mundane chores

bank, post office, news agents

detour to the ladies room

to reach the bus depot, just in time to catch

the 631 stops-all-stops

through rural towns where time slows down

micro-meditating through finger-printed windows

as the bus rattles past cow-mown meadows

and chuckling creeks  as clear as glass.









Poetry & Photos – SharonleeGoodhand©20-Sep-15


Moonlit Epiphany Follow my Steps (rewritten)


Moonlit Epiphany Follow my Steps (rewritten)

Soft moonlit harmony, follow my steps into tomorrow

let no dreams of despair plague my soul

shield me, from the torture of yesterday’s sorrow…


Moonbeams, surround me in a mellow glow

no longer I seek answers to questions I’ll never know

silent my footfall as I weave new dreams

wandering alone in caressing moonbeams;


I am blessed by moments that ask for no coin

Kodak moments where smiles and laughter nourish my heart

time measured not in hours or in dollars earned

 but in how a child grows, the discoveries learned

oh how the years have flown-

– my treasure their triumphs and every milestone…


Blessed too, am I, to know rainforest echoes and the mountains call

to wander unrestrained in flowing desert plains

blest times  when Nature picked me up from a fall

and reminded me, gently, to pause in each day

and give thanks for the beauty which comes my way…


Soft moonlit epiphany, follow my steps into tomorrow

time is now, it cannot be borrowed

life is now, and we can choose to embrace

all that it offers, with joyous grace.



Free Spirit

Poetry & Imagery – SharonleeGoodhand©17-Sep-15