I look at my mother Bringing in item after item to the dinner table. A spread as rich as a King’s banquet. And I look at each one of us About to grab hold of a drumstick Or a fried prawn. And I wonder how she feels; She gives and gives, when giving is fighting … Continue reading Maternal


He was just a boy Wooden in bulk, edge and bough He was drawn from a design of pencil - Unlike the clay-made man – on Jepeto’s drawing board. A marionette, a type of stringed puppet. The boy could only recite poetic lies How the moon was made of passion fruit cheese cake And fireflies … Continue reading Pinocchio