Impossible findings.

I feel like sometimes my mind
can’t keep up with the thoughts
running through my head like is
that the right word or too
functional or too worthy wait
how would you just say that say it
simply in an easy to understand
way that everyone will nod their
heads to melt their hearts to fall
in love with but sometimes it can
take days even weeks to find the
right word when it’s the one
you’re really searching for it’s
the one that’s impossible to find.



A rolling piece inspired by a Kerouac-type outburst of consciousness, about the fact that sometimes the simplest thing I can offer is often the hardest one to fulfil. xJ

Salted sadness.

A slow, single tear rolls
down my cheek and across
my nose but it doesn’t dare
to drop.

Instead it curls beneath,
like myself – curled up,
holding onto the silence,
inching closer with every
uncertainty, dissolving
cold, like nothing, where
my pillow holds my face.
But even then, it is
there … The
invisible line
of sadness

– jl

mh17 reflecting: A poem.

All of the sadness and chaos
in my own little world
seems so sadly insignificant
in the wake of today.

– jl

Sometimes, all you can do is wonder, with the greatest of sadness, why on earth you thought your life was so damn hard. When we still live in a world where missiles are fired and planes come crashing down and innocent lives are lost and loved ones are taken from us with no warning. I wrote this poem about it on Friday. Life … the greatest enigma of all. Jx

Running and writing #1.

Run to repeat your thoughts
and over.

Line by line,
by word.

Until the page unfolds
writes itself – in the sky.

– jl

I wrote this poem the other day while out running. Yes, writing. While running. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it? The guys at work thought I was crazy, which I assure you. I am. And I have author Ben Law to thank. I saw him give his ‘5 x Rules of Writing’ at the Emerging Writer’s Festival last month and it has been running through my mind ever since (boom tish). “Exercise to write well” was lucky #3.

As soon as he said it, I knew I could immediately relate. I’d been doing it for years without realising. Getting home and rushing to my notepad after stumbling upon “THAT” word. Yelling “aha” mid-run, when my big idea had finally decided to show up, quickly looking around to make sure that no one had heard me …

See, I told you. Crazy. xJ

The snore: a poem.

The feeling of floating
lightly, effortlessly
to sleep.

into silent dream.

Until suddenly, ears prick.
Eyes clench.
That sound.
THAT sound.

The first snore.

– jl


This one goes out to all the good sleepers: the silent sleepers. The ones who never make a sound, nor can stand to hear a noise where they rest their sleepy heads. That is, until, they fall in love with a snorer … Welcome to my world. xJ

Pinot coma.

Ribbons of spicy pinot
roll round and
round my mouth.

Warm behind my eyes,
melt my dozy limbs.

As I disappear,
like cushions on the couch.

– jl


Glug glug. Guzzle guzzle. Sit back and relax like a camouflaged cushion. It’s wine time. xJ