Winter-Born Moments

Self Portrait PhotoArt by Sharonlee

Self Portrait PhotoArt by Sharonlee


Winter-Born Moments


How sweet it is… to sit in winter sun

let thoughts delicious, drift with the fragrance of the day

birds sing in mist-risen melody, of Nature’s grace

voicing their appreciation of Nature’s way…

I lost myself, as I often do, in inner thought

allowing my eyes to feast on mottled shade

naked branches of the sleeping frangipani

crisscrossing dark shadow-limbs on moss- speckled grass…


Pearl-hued clouds drifted in, devouring the sun

sky turning a thousand shades of grey

a mischievous breeze wafted across my face

temperature plunging in sudden freefall…

… I rose, small shivers shook my body

as I returned inside…


Coffee cools too fast in winter…

and one hand aches with cold as I pound the keyboard

one finger flying with rapid flow

typing as the thoughts tumble and spill

and lock themselves behind inner doors…

… the other hand lay warm & snug

bedded between crossed legs;


A mantle of cloud lay across the sun

a cold dampness invades the bones

a good day for a ‘blanket-day’

… if only I wasn’t alone.



Like a Manuscript in the Wind


Free Spirit

Art by Sharonlee

Like a Manuscript in the Wind



It seems my mind is not my own today

it wanders as the minutes lead to hours

scattered, like a manuscript  in the wind

an unchained melody, my soul sings…


emotion ebbs and flows… eddying and surging

reaching peaks of self-fulfilling ecstasy

plunging into maelstroms of confusion…

too dizzy to even snatch at straying thoughts

I let them meander where they choose…


disjointed emotions … co-mingling like a Roman orgy

I no longer know if my mind knows what’s going on, all feelings

and mind-images merging and uniting…. separating

completely anew… to reform, anew

… do I make sense?

I think not…


besieged I am

by insane, zany crazy thoughts…

exclamations symbols pirouette

like demented ballet dancers-

– my inner woman gleams

at innuendos not yet born

as sighs escape to infect the breeze

with hedonistic  delirium….


spinning… dizzy… into a vortex 

I whirl on waves of energy…

I cannot breathe… have lost control

scattered, like a manuscript  in the wind;



Weekend Ripples



PhotoArt – SharonleeGoodhand

Weekend Ripples

people watching

on a rainy afternoon


Saturday sidewalk cafe…


sparrows nest in a tree

of construction supports

cold steel to hold the roof

cyclone or sun…

… milling masses in casual attire

ordering late lunches and sticky cakes to share…


voices murmur… intermittent laughter

drifts between children and dogs scampering

‘round legs

as the rain falls in misty streamers…


 the throaty grumble of a Harley echoes

its displeasure at parking spaces and red lights

I fancy I hear it mumble for open roads and winding mountain ranges

so fondly reminiscent of younger days…


a sparrow hops by

inquiring look to eye

and I wonder, what did sparrows eat

before shopping centres and malls

supplied a continuous buffet

of pie-crumbs and sandwich crusts …


a steady stream flowed in and out

the nearby fish shop

wafting aromas of fresh fish and hot oily chips…

… amazing how many came from there

with lumpy paper wrapped bundles

grease already creating translucent maps

on off white wrapping

and then go into the adjoining liquor store-

– children tag along behind

clutching video babysitters…


more amazing

and thought provoking

to realize that

that was once my life…

… fish n chips

liquid refreshment

and weekend videos…


… I wandered home

to the rhythm of my thoughts

almost t0o preoccupied

to notice a small flock

of black cockatoos

gliding above my head…



Anchor Light



Anchor Light


What can I say about the way life plays, it dances to its own crazy tune

scattering memories like swatches of color on rainy afternoons

time passes to fast, from first to last, the end it comes too soon

so live a lifetime of memories with me, break free of that cocoon…


I’ll show you where the echoes hide, where dreams are born in flight

and take you to the sunsets rim so you can greet the night…

… I’ll be your guide, if you need one, your shoulder and anchor light

if you’ll just for a moment follow me

and taste in my delights…



It doesn’t matter if there’s been regret, I choose to forget and get

along with life ‘cos in the end … who knows how much time is left

or how much we get, to get on with living this dream…

so forget all those worries that harass and complain

put away the fear and grief and put away the pain, let’s run through April showers in June

and dance across the moon…

‘cos for one crowded hour, you are the only one in the room


Have you ever seen the stars so bright they surely ignite

romance in Cupid’s wings, or ever heard the spoken word

the way  Delilah sings?

I’d hold your dreams in my honest grasp and tend them by the hour

if you’ll but dance a dance with me in scented April showers…

…  I have a thing for simple things, coffee on mornings where the whip-bird sings

hands that like to hold to hands, and laughter that travels across wild lands

to find that place where echoes hide and dreams are born in flight…



put away the fear and grief and put away the pain, let’s run through April showers

in June

and dance across the moon…

‘cos for one crowded hour, an hour in each  day… you’re the only one in the room.


Poetry & Art – SharonleeGoodhand©29-May-14




Inspired by-

One crowded Hour

But for one crowded hour, you were the only one in the room
augie march.