PoetrySquared Launched at Etsy

In January, I wondered if it would be possible to make my poem squares on demand. Post It Note Poetry became boot camp, giving me the space to build a poem a day under quasi-commission parameters. It was a huge success. In some cases there were spooky references to things I couldn’t possibly have known about. At the end of February it was clear it was possible for me to buil poems on demand.

Then I got sick. Plans came to a halt. I kept building poems for birthday presents. Then I began to pair them with the zentangles I was drawing as part of my sleep therapy.

Late July, I took a grand leap of faith and posted a poem on Twitter with ‘for sale’ attached to it. It went. Quickly. To one of my favourite Brisbane poets. Since then I’ve sold half of the poems I’ve posted to Twitter and Instagram.

Welcome to the Stage Poetry2

Today, with Venus (Art and Beauty) beginning her transit of my Neptune-Mercury conjunction (Poetry), I’m ecstatic to point you all in the direct of Poetry2 at Etsy. There are 17 poems there at the moment: 10 of the remaining poems from February; five from the Turquoise Series;  two from the unfinished Orange Series.

The squares are approximately 9cm2 and range in price from $13-$15.
I also do custom builds. They begin at $20. If you’re interested in commissioning a poem you can contact me through the Etsy email system. It’s as simple as picking one of my source book, some page numbers and preferred colours for the background.

Many thanks to Rob who gifted me the shop name (he’s so much better at that stuff than I am) and to Adam who continues to be a most wonderful writing partner/creative co-conspirator.

Postcardia-cum-Poetica #1

I’ve been writing postcards to my friend Kim since 2014. Changes to Australia Post operations this year (combined with life) have seen the number of postcards slowly dwindle. 

With a renewed focus on combining self care, art and woo, I decided to buy a pack of colouring-in postcards today and take out one of the off-cut baggies of Calvino to see what might happen when they were shaken together. 

Flowers and a gorgon happened. A typical sort of Friday!!

When Dave asks about my day, I look forward to saying just that!

I am happy to call it not just a successful merging of the different areas of life I am focusing on and a beautiful postcard to send, but a productive day of rest day. 

Back in the Poetic Saddle

I’m back from the family holiday in New Zealand and I’ve been aching to get back into building poetry. The weekend just gone was my first back at my desk to do this in a long time. 

As always it starts with a present for a friend and then spirals outward. This time it was an array of poems on zentangles and then surprisingly, some new paper I had come across.

In the next fortnight there will be new poems to share and hopefully some for sale. 

Mutual Regret

Another piece of flash fiction from a Line A Day Journal prompt. This time I totally distorted the original seed: mutual respect sends his regrets. 

* * *

Mirrored in him are the empty places in me. I have hollowed him out as he hollowed me out. I have taken as much as what was taken. A fuck you, as I remember how to take on air again. As he forgets. And I walk from the water’s edge in silence. The echoes of mutual regret swallowed this time. 


Every now and again, in the Line A Day Journal I write with Em, there’s a flash fiction prompt. These are turning into unexpected writing boons. This from the prompt: you’re digging in your garden and find a nugget of gold.

No one could explain to her how the smelting process had been imperfect. How a small amount of her heart had been spilled. Or how the grotesque nugget came to be buried among her carnations and sweetpeas.  

Never give all of your heart away, she’d been warned when she was young. Always keep a piece for yourself. But they never spoke of a heart turning on itself.

Flowers lay uprooted and torn around her. Heavy-duty garden gloves torn and bloodied. Her breathe came in half-breathed sobs.

She would end what the malignant organ had started. No piece of it would remain.

And she dug.