My attempts at composing something in between poetry, prose and nonsense about food …



Pere Sim[m]on!
Tell me –
who are you and
why are you the father of this
ball of joy
which fills cheeks
and teases tongues
and melts on teeth
and is
in every way

You must be a special man.

(2013 – Inspired by Abdul, Ellen and memories of my travels in 2010)



It stinks, said she –
the orderly tourist held her nose,
passport in bag,
brain in a different sort of cage
from the one I’d be signing up for
were I to choose a life in the medina

A life of fascination
with monkeys, spices, smoky men –
a life, possibly, of
selling carpets and offering mint tea
to others like myself –
minds trapped, from a lifetime in a society which values
order – money – rights
unable to embrace the natural order of a life that is

messy, smelly
– the way life truly is –
– a covered bed of cous cous topped with different things,
arranged in
no particular order.

(Written in a poetry workshop led by Jackie Kay at the Auckland Writers & Readers Festival, 17 May 2013)


Licorice Poem

It is to sit in glorious stripes
Decked in green, yellow, pink;
Waiting. Looking pretty
Saturated with sugar
Dodging sticky fingers
Sitting fat, arrogant, varied in black, white, colours
Face pressed against iridescent plastic
Wishing, hoping, praying
Upon stars and rainbows
While visions of rotting teeth and grinning tooth fairies
Rain upon their parades


Pot Poem

Ornately sitting, low and mighty
Upon our whitened stove
A handle, a lid, a body
Handle just the right size for an average hand
Lid cute as a button, reminiscent of a China boy’s hat
Body deep and hearty as bubbles erupt with
Laughter amidst its contents

Black, black, black,
The black of crows and widows
Killing the unfortunate carrots and curried company within
As they dance their last dance upon the orange
swirls of heat

And yet, with lid upon its hearty self,
New life emerges as dinner is born
Silver lining on a black cloud
The low and mighty covered pot on the stove


Ode to Asparagus

you’re green baby,
mean green
sharp, pointy;
tip of a smokeless chimney.

skyscraper you,
magnificent you,
giver of soul
blessing to teeth

you are the footprint of gnomes;
seductive lights on a bridge
marriage partner to soft-boiled eggs;
the beginning of a gentle sonnet

i dip you, twirl you, crunch you, bite you,
and you stand quite innocently
in the setting sun
on the edge of my field,


(Last 3 pieces penned between 2007-2009)


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s