Why is it so… 

Why is it so… 

Life isn’t meant to stay the same
just as seasons turn… people grow and change
sometimes drifting so far apart
that echoes are all that’s left of the past.
And the laughter which rang, and secrets aired
seem a fragile reminder of time shared
when dreams were whispered in midnight hours
and truths were offered like fragrant flowers.

So I sit in limbo, waiting, lingering in reflections of life and past & present… and an obscure future which refuses to offer clues or clarity as to what direction I should be taking.
These reflections, today’s reflections circle around a life of friendships that faded as time passed. Very few from neglect or negative reasons, mostly because life changes and people change. People moved, I moved. And new circles of friends are eventually formed, with the old friends never forgotten and often thought of.
I wonder how they are, those friends from earlier years, who shared and laughed and cried so deeply with me? Have they survived the years and are now aging with whatever grace and dignity afforded them? Have they found their “happy place” ? Are they grandparents as well?
Were any lost between the cracks of society?

Lingering within reflections today… outside the sun is finally shining after two weeks of torrential rain… difficult to believe it’s actually an autumn day, the way the sunshine is dancing across the yard, deepening shadows and highlighting freshly washed foliage.
I should be outside! I should be wandering ‘neath trees, breathing in the earthy scents of nature.
But I’m not.
I’m sitting in limbo… waiting for a property inspection which the landlady has arranged- second one in less than 8 eight days… I ache somewhat, physically, from the extra household chores I felt obliged to do… aching somewhat,  spiritually,  because I’d rather be somewhere else doing something else or nothing at all, just BEING.

If truth be told, I’ve relocated so many times in 60 years… reinventing myself, my life, and in the process my circle of friends and each time the “she” who is me became a quieter more introspective person… life became less encumbered with material possessions and the circle became smaller and smaller.
That’s not to say that I have forgotten those friends and friendships formed,  connections that, at the time seemed permanent and perfectly suited to my heart and spirit. Each one ripples in my soul, circles in my pond of life.

Reflecting on this journey, I wonder why none of us ever managed to stay in touch, stay connected, stay friends despite distance and disruptions? I wonder why I have so few long term friendships… none from childhood… nor school… or those wild and crazy days in my early 20’s.

Only one from my failed attempt to be trained as a “nurse  and model citizen”. And I haven’t actually seen her in thirty years, we ‘refound’ each other through Facebook and stay in touch.
As for the group my late husband and I socialised with, well… None of “our” friends stuck around. After.
So I started again. Again.

All this leaves me awash with melancholy homesickness for times lived and me’s I use be… and I wonder, Why?

Just why. Why is it so.
Sharonlee Goodhand Imageweaver

Serendipity – A Fantasy Tale

The recent heavy rains had slowed Pearl down; as much as she loved the rain and how it graced leaves and flowers in tiny liquid water jewels, it had made the narrow dirt tracks running through the borough of Shadewell difficult to navigate. Her wagon wheels ground to a halt in many places, choked up with mud and rocks.
At one point all that could be done was to sit there in the middle of the muddied track, pouring rain and wait it out until at least the deluge eased enough so she could see what exactly was stopping the wheel from turning. It was quite miserable, and for the hundredth time Pearl wondered what had possessed her to embark on this seemingly endless journey.

But of course she knew. She had no choice. Father had passed away and there were no more of her kin or kind living in Laylei Vale. All her kind had either left already or passed on into the realm of ancestors.  Father and Pearl were the last, mostly because father was the most renowned expert on Falabella ponies… which were favoured by the High Council of Elves.
Laylei Vale was the only home Pearl had ever known and she loved The Vale, even though she had never been fully accepted by anyone, being a Halfling as she was, born of mixed parentage, an Elven mother and a Fairy-Pixie father. Father himself was a Halfling and so dashingly handsome and so deeply caring that her Evlen mother fell madly in love with him.

Such a union was frowned upon of course, but because mother came from royalty no one could stop her, although the Council could and did petition for her royal name and role be strictly prohibited. Mother willingly became a commoner for the love of Pearl’s father.
First mother passed away, and more recently father, after which Pearls sense of belonging vanished. She sold what she could, packed what she could and simply left.

And here she was… several months later, slowed down by rain and mud, so much so she decided on an early day, it was all too much for Jesii, her very own patiently enduring Falabella pony. Jessii was such an obliging travel companion, she would do anything for Pearl, tackle any job, this Pearl knew and was careful to make sure that Jesii didn’t feel obligated to push herself beyond her capacity.
The two traveled on just far enough to find a suitable place to set up for remained of the day and night, deciding on a thick strand of sugar maple trees that thevwagon would fit under and offered places to tie up the cover to keep Jesii dry.

How grateful Pearl was that she always kept a few bundles of kindling and small logs in a trunk under her seat! With the little brazier flickering warm light and heating some soup, Pearl felt better, although she did sigh deeply in a long shuddering way, so filled with melancholy that Jesii looked up from her bucket of oats and apple.
“Oh I’m ok” the little Halfling assured her friend,  “it’s just been a long journey and not a very successful one at that! Remember the reception the gnomes of Agate Mountain gave us?”
Jesii nodded her glossy head.
“And what about the Fai who lived by that sparkling waterfall? They laughed at us when I asked if we could settle in their Shire”

Jesii blinked, nodding again.

“Don’t forget what happened when we attempted to befriend the Griffins! They wanted to eat us! And the Centaurs wanted to steal you and lock me up!”

“Oh pishposh” continued Pearl “I’d turn around and go home, if we had a home to return to!”

At this the Falabella pony stamped one tiny hoof, shaking her head vigorously her luscious fringe flopping forward, covering her liquid brown eyes.
Pearl chuckled, dashing away a single tear which had threatened to trickle down her rosy cheek. She stood up and hugged Jesii, gently brush the pony’s fringe away from her eyes.
“Thank you” Pearl smiled, kissing Jesii’s warm forehead “tomorrow is another day, isn’t it”

Morning dawned filled with tattered clouds and dripping sunshine. Birds sang joyous melodies and small forest folk peeped from burrows and hollow tree trunks, whiskery faces judging the weather.
Pearl and Jesii waited long enough for water  to drain away from the dirt track a bit before setting off. After a time they came to a crossroad.

“Oh I do hate crossroads!” Retorted Pearl… “one never knows which is the right one. The last crossroads took us straight into a battle between two rival troll clans. That was a terrible sight. And the smell! We had to hide in a horrid cave for three days while those fools slaughtered each other. Although I did discover that wall embedded with those gorgeous yellow rocks, I managed to dig out quite a few while we were there. If we ever find a home I will make some lovely trinkets with them.  Oh Jes, I don’t know which way to go… will you choose please!”

The pony snorted, shaking her head.
“When have I ever gotten cross with you my sweet Jesii!” Pearl chuckled “I promise this time will not be the first time. You choose”

Jesii looked around for a second or two, then veered left heading towards the left fork.
“Interesting choice” Pearl mused ” and why this way and not another? “
Jesii tossed her head towards the sky in front of them, and there stretching across a deep green valley was an astonishingly brilliant double rainbow.

“OH!” was all Pearl could say, and sitting back she let Jesii take control.
The path they now travelled down seemed somehow magical… verdant greenery danced along the edges of the dirt track, huge trees grew fruit and nuts from every shire they had ever travelled through. Somewhere a musical little river sang and giggled along happily and the beautiful double rainbow glowed over everything, never moving or fading, as rainbows usually do.

Who would have thought that chasing a magnificent double rainbow on a morning infused in the woodsy scents of oak and mushroom, lingering in petrichor rich air from early rain,  could possibly lead to such a picturesque place! It almost seemed lost in Time.
The very beauty of such a location gave Pearl chills of delight. And when they finally reached a little hamlet the local inhabitants were so friendly! They rushed out to greet them and offer them dainty treats with dandelion tea, inviting them to stay as long as they wanted.
When Pearl noticed just who the inhabitants of this quaint little village were, she knew she had found her forever home, for gathered around were elves and fairy and gnome, and centaur and treants and griffins and all manner of different souls, all smiling and happy and sharing life together.

And that is how the tiny hamlet of Prisma acquired the auspicious little shop known near and far as
“Pearls Miraculous Bumblebee Bizarre”.

So if you ever happen to see a Magnificent Double rainbow glowing in the sky perhaps you should follow it, without asking why!

Ádhamh, the Paladin, Tiger-soul, the Elf, and the Watermaid, Líadan


A Poetic Fantasy….

A rippled stream through woodlands ran
wending through giant trees and tangled fern
rippled and sang all the way ‘round the foothill, through the woods
and onto to the  calm reflective bay;

Juniper grew beside cherry beside oak beside ancient fig
ferns and mosses in twined disarray  sprung from dappled bank
and half-hidden caves…

And it was there, where lay-lines met and energy sizzled
where rippled stream and foothills met
it was there amid the layers of dappled green
that Tiger-Soul sought the council of Ádhamh, Paladin of the Forestways…

Ádhamh sat in thoughtful repose…
A golden feather held gently between his fingers –
but still he knew Tiger-Soul had entered the glade
and bade the young elf come hither;
“You are troubled, little friend” Ádhamh murmured
“yea that I am”… with this Tiger-soul drew from his pocket
an amethyst crystal of purest beauty and what appeared to be
an ancient artifact in the form of a carved wooden stick
adorned with ancient symbols and etched with endless swirls;”
Tiger-soul’s hands shook… “and I see you have acquired a golden feather”

Ádhamh held the amethyst up to the light…
“Have you ever seen the amethyst
shine so brightly as now?” he muttered, almost as if to himself
“Where did you find it?”

The elf shook his head, cornsilk hair gleaming in stippled sunrays
“Well, I can’t talk Porpoise, but one momentarily lunged upon the shore, depositing it at my feet”
Tiger-soul paused… “a message I should think”

“It would appear so… and the Talking-stick? Where did you find that?”asked Ádhamh.

“The old grey wolf, Múirnín, dumped it at my feet” Tiger-soul said… “take it to Ádhamh he growled
And here I am;
And what of you Ádhamh? Where did the golden feather come from?”

“It was dropped from the sky by a goshawk” Ádhamh responded, his eyes lost
in a far-away gaze.

“This does not bode well for Líadan” the elf shook his head.

“It does not bode well at all … ahh my sweet Líadan, my willow-the-wisp watermaid… my mavourneen” Ádhamh allowed himself a moment of whimsy
before leaping into action…
“The Talking-stick indicates that the Crone of the Sea has acquired a concave mirror
and is using it to imprison Líadan’s spirit… she languishes in perpetual sleep!”

“The amethyst, of course, represents Líadan herself and the golden feather can only have come from one place… the crags above the watery tomb of those lost at sea… for that where the golden eagle nests..
the old Crone must have Líadan in the sea- cave that opens into the bay…”
Ádhamh paced furiously, trampling  Ruby-hued wildflowers and fragrant clovers;
“I’ll not linger a moment longer” he said to Tiger-soul  “Do you travel with me Tiger? Distinguish your path, soul of light, for those who do, balance their plight…
… and forever a hero be”

“I come” was all Tiger-soul said.


Paladin & Elf travelled the path of the sun… wading over narrow streamlets
listening, as they walked, to the wise whispers of the trees.

“Have you ever found yourself half way up a tree, enthralled with the tales
etched into the very fibre of the bark?”  Tiger-soul asked.

“Aye” Ádhamh chuckled softly… “many a time.”
My greatest delight is laying on the overhanging oak branch
the one that juts out across the break where stream meets bay…
… for there I  meet my Líadan, tales to share”
“ We will rescue her Ádhamh” the Elf offered quietly.

But Ádhamh’s face was creased with a determined set and he spoke no more.

The un-named sea cave was known to all as the home of the old crone… seaweed entwined her hair… waving behind her like slimy eels when she swam;
she was green and mean, wove nightmares from dreams
and conjured up the wicked of might of storms.
But she had a weakness, Ádhamh knew and had not come unprepared;

The Elf could swim better than the Paladin and so it was Tiger-soul who plunged into the cool salty waters of the bay… on a mission to find Octopoda, the Mother of all octopuses in the 11 oceans… and personal friend & guardian of the watermaid Líadan.
Octopoda and Tiger-soul arrived at the mouth of the yawning damp cave
filled as it was, with hollow winds and watery echoes;

Octopoda had turned ashen grey with rage and in each of her tentacles she held loosely woven net bags, filled with the purest amethyst on land and in the sea… amethyst- the old sea crone’s one weakness…

The three rescuers entered the cave with silent stealth… creeping, sliding, slipping
through dank darkness and putrid air… until
until they reached the central cavern, where lounged The old Sea Crone, picking her teeth with
a starfish thorn…

Ádhamh saw Líadan’s prone form crumpled on a mound of seaweed… she did not move, and
to Ádhamh it seemed she did not breath…
Rage and fear and love boiled over inside his soul… only Octopoda managed to foil the Paladin’s  reckless plunge towards his sweet Líadan’s side…


Octopoda had rendered herself invisible… amethyst seeming to float and dance in sprays of light…
… and the sea crone who saw only the glimmer of crystal was, soon enchanted, then mesmerized; Octopoda’s tentacles wavered & danced
teasingly close… until the old crone spun with delirious fervor…
…  Ádhamh ran to scoop Líadan up into his embrace- but no!
his movements caught the sea crone’s eye… and she screeched
like all the banshees in the world, shattering the air and piercing everyone’s souls…

All but Octopoda were caught in the sea crone’s trap of noise… and Octopoda hastened her sinuous movements, amethyst tantalizing the crones gaze once more…
Ádhamh threw Líadan over his masculine shoulder, racing the watermaid back across the cavern to the vast opening…
… and Octopoda gave the sea crone her prize… 36 bags of amethyst, piled atop the crone like a burial cairn and her banshee howl ceased;


Silence descended upon the cave… filled only with hollow winds and watery echoes;
On the soft warm bank of the bay, Líadan woke to find herself in Ádhamh’s gentle embrace…
… she looked around, seeing Tiger-soul and Octopoda… a hushed calm breathed across the land
as day and twilight mingled;
Shimmer did the trees, she thought… how moonlight becomes them.
Image and Poetic Fantasy by SharonleeGoodhand ©26-Jan-15

ÁDHAMH: Irish form of Hebrew Adam, meaning “earth” or “red.”

LÍADAN: Irish Gaelic name derived from the word liath “grey,” hence “grey lady.” In legend, this is the name of a poetess.

MAVOURNEEN: Irish name derived from the phrase mo múirnín, meaning “my honey, my sweet one.”

Wake Me Up When the Madness Ends

Another year has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when madness ends

I tried to put my best foot forward
Tried to be the strong one
Done my best to be there for family
and friends…
… I’m weary now, my spirit aches
Wake me up when the madness ends.

Here comes the pain again
Falling from the sky
Pain from all corners of the world
And I here’s me asking why
… why has life become this way
Is this really who we are?

Another year has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when madness ends
Wake me up when madness ends

And then perhaps I’ll have the strength
To carry on, fix what’s wrong,
Wake me up when madness ends.
SharonleeGoodhand Imageweaver 2021

Endings & Beginnings & Things that Dwell Between (Goodbye 2020)


I  tend to get somewhat reflective at years ending
not sad as such, more full-of-thoughts
and this year there is so much to reflect upon.
I feel like I have been holding my breath
and treading water for 12 months…
and wonder how this year has affected others…?
I know many are unaffected,
those who are less ‘involved’ in the bigger picture…
those who are merely irritated
because they can’t play golf
or go to theme parks or cinemas
or on their overseas holiday…
Many HAVE been affected though, some through loss of
loved ones or diminished health or
loss of work… affected by poverty homelessness or fear…
— confusion is strong in the human world at the moment…
denial of many matters is rife… doubt is high…
… I feel these emotions come to me
from many far away places
on nights when my street is sleeping
and I sit by the window in company with the stars.

And I wonder… do I do enough to help readdress the imbalance?

… … … so the journey continues…almost New Years Eve in my corner of the world…by almost I mean today is the last day of 2020 in Australia, so I thought I would share my thoughts now…

…I try to end the year with some philosophical gem…but I don’t have one…I have a lot of fears…fears for our survival as a Global Race, fears for the continued safety and stability of this One Earth of ours…I am appalled and concerned about so many issues…high on the list is the  ill-treatment of our own Global race… inequality… imbalance of social acceptance… cruelty to animals, pollution, litter and the inadequate disposal of billions of tons of garbage worldwide, added to this garbage waste this year has been tonnes of Covid related waste- disposable masks and gloves…

Can we do better as a Global Race? Being mindful of how our actions & the impact they have, affect life Earth others-  people plants & animals? Yes we can. So why do so few take this responsibility seriously?

Putting aside my fears, I am also filled with admiration gratitude and respect for the many who ‘keep the candle burning’… who shine a light on every discordant moment and bring a ray of hope & healing in seemingly dark hours… thank goodness for them, the candle-holders, the light-bringers… the helpers and healers.
And how blessed am I to know so many exist amongst my family and friends, even when they don’t recognise the light that they are!

I wonder, as I do every new year…could this be the year that promises to hold the changes I have been yearning for… will unrealized dreams see fruition? Will I find that elusive “something”
I know I’ve been looking for?

I would like to say,  it’s an honour to know you all and thank you all for the connection and shared strengths, the talks and support and all the memories we made in 2020. Wishing you good health, peace and contentment for the new year, filled with inspiration and many reasons to celebrate and grow.
Remember, each and every one of you has so much potential already existing within you, we are all capable of creating monumental changes and seeing the fulfillment of our dreams & desires. You are all strong & vibrant, filled with beauty & light, just believe in yourself and watch life blossom.

Wishing you all a Fulfilling & Fruitful New Year

Peace & Bright Blessings, Sharonlee


Letting go

Letting go of yesterday
releasing tarnished dreams
fantasy is all well and good
but nothing is as it seems…
reality is here to stay
like it or like it not, life is for living
I’m told we only get one shot…

but what are these strange visions
that softly softly dwell
so deeply inside me
showing me places I cannot tell…

woodsmoke spirals in fragrant drifts
into a earthy scene
is this past life
… or simply a vague and unreal dream…

I hear the drums… echo
and feel them vibrate in my very soul
an ancient beating cadence
that belongs to days of old…
a pattering of feet
dance with a freedom I’ve never known
and I feel so certain this place was once my home…

rippling voices sing  in poetic measure
of seasons past and yet to come
of earthy untainted treasure…
of sunsets
and sun rises
of stars that shine in an endless sky
of the rivers’ chuckling song
and the passage  of the moon as it sails…

barefoot children  squeal with uncontained delight
they have no  worldly worries
and do not fear the night…

letting go…..of yesterday
releasing tarnished dreams
fantasy is all well and good
but nothing is as it seems…
but what are these strange visions
that softly softly dwell
so deep inside me
…. showing me places I cannot tell…
and yet
these are the places
I seem to know so well;


Sleepy Sunday

Sleepy Sunday


Wandering rural  suburbia

sleepy Sunday afternoon…


… freshly cut grass

following my path

fluctuating echoes

as lawn mowers fade to silence

one by one…


Children still play in late puddles

of autumn light


to dappled warmth…

… but the day is almost spent

thin slivers of rays

offering faded light

but no warmth…


Passing the creek

birds chatter & tweet

a flurry of wings in the high canopy

setting sun flickers through

interwoven branches

with tinseled radiance …

… shadows roosting in tangled roots

as they twist along the ground…


Yards emptied

taking on an air of abandonment

as doors were closed

curtains drawn

blink… blinkblink

lights go on

in dwellis along the street

hovering fireflies

with nowhere to go…

mingling aromas of chicken baking

… curry brewing…  someone, somewhere barbecue’ing-


announce the news at 5…



Sunday Walking

wandering rural  suburbia

as a sleepy Sunday comes to a close;


Poetry & Photo – SharonleeGoodhand©27-May-14

Persistence of Morning Thoughts


Persistence of Morning Thoughts


Morning thoughts yawn from pre-dawn shadows

You know the ones…


… thoughts that immerge with the first fingers of sun

thoughts that play in your mind as the morning winds on-

– flying kites on the faintest of breeze…


… bullying our other thoughts

dancing in our daydreams

they create pandemonium

tease and taunt

with macabre delight…


They linger into afternoon thoughts

the sort

that roll over as slowly

as a sunsplashed whale…

visions slid down scattered sunrays






Clouds gather mid-afternoon, snatching the sun

and still those persistent morning thoughts invade;