Short story – Voice recognition

‘Hi George, how are you feeling today?’

 ‘I’m having trouble with my hearing. You’ll have to speak up.’

‘Okay is this better? We might have to keep it brief today if I have to shout. People are staring.’

‘But the shore is empty.’

‘How do you know?’

The only sound is the soft wash of the waves lapping the stony shoreline, and my breath echoing back on the line.

‘Why don’t you meet me at the pier and we can get a hot chocolate. They put a marshmallow on top. I wouldn’t have to shout then.’

‘Hmm, it’s too cold, maybe next week.’

‘You know you can ring my mobile. I gave you the number. It’s cold inside this box. It would be nice to sit somewhere. Or better yet I could come to your place. I can bring my marvellous marble cake.’

Silence across the line meant the answer is the usual no. Over the past two months, every Sunday morning, George had revealed by his moments of silence that he didn’t go out of his home and never allowed anyone in.

 It had been by chance that I answered the phone the first time. I waited in my car until the market ended and there were only a few stragglers walking past.  I’d set up my easel and was sketching outline of the coastal inlet, trying to create the depth of field with the mountainous rainforests in the background, when the phone rang in the red box.

At first I tried to ignore it, but it kept ringing, stopping and ringing again. In frustrated annoyance I entered the booth and said hello. The low toned voice on the other end engaged me instantly and I couldn’t hang up.

The conversation continued for over an hour with me revealing more than I anticipated and much more than what I usually share with anyone else. It felt easy to talk with another person without having a physical connection.  From then on I had set up my easel every Sunday, painting while waiting, for the phone to ring.

 ‘I don’t eat cake.’

‘By the way George, I entered my painting of the boat into the local art exhibition.’

‘Wonderful. I’m very happy you did.’

‘Would you like to come to the opening of the exhibition, I have two tickets. Only the entered artists will be there.’

‘Hmm, I’ll think about it.’

I catch my breath in my throat. This is the first time George has said he may meet up with me. My mind goes into overdrive creating pictures of the man on the other end of the line.

‘Oh, that’s great.’ I try not to sound too excited. I bite my lip trying to calm the instinct to nervously laugh.  ‘I would love it if you came. Um, how will I know it’s you? How will you know to find me?’

‘You’ll know by the sound of my voice, and I already know you.’

Natures magic

Photo taken Far Nth Qld, Australia

I stand in awe

where the wild roses grow

Sweet perfume overwhelms me

enticing me

to surrender

and lay my body down

In between Eves garden flowers

grown over years gone by

with Mother Natures tender touch

there is an impressive display

of bright stars above

that delight the senses

A flash of a shooting star

gives the gift of surprise as the world turns

aligning with the moon

shining it’s soft light down

upon me

It brings the explosion of life

in oceans older than the earth

and coral reefs bursting with colour

Connection with this magic

brings the pleasure of

natures music to share.

The Artist





Irrelevant but connected time draws us close

to a mindful revelation that perhaps time

is all but some sort of cartoon image

and we are all caught

in the artists’ bare hand

Release date for Stories of Hope

Image may contain: text

This is a must have e-book, full of wonderful stories written by amazing writers

( I do have a story in there somewhere but not sure I would say I am an amazing writer but I am very humbled to have a story included)

I hope all of you across the world support the release of this book with all proceeds going to WWF Australian Wildlife and Nature recovery fund, and the Red Cross Disaster Relief and Recovery Fund.

Thank you!

A waking moment


Tootgarook foreshore, Victoria, Australia  December 2019

Running in a nightmare

macrabre feelings of the end that may come

The faces of the dead becoming real

not wanting to look back

in the event that

doubting reality can be reached

Then the moment of release

When waking from the dream

brings the pleasure of knowing the defeat is behind you

Book Launch

Image 1 book launch

My heart is bursting!

I have been so fortunate, not only with having a dream come true but to have the support and friendship of awesome people such as Trideep ( T ) and George at Cinque Lire at Monash University.

Friendship is possibly the greatest thing on earth!

Hidden Truth

Sassafras – The Dandenongs, Victoria, Australia


Take me into the woods

there’s no escape from the recreation of the dark mind

I want to reclaim our lost ground


The endless forest will be Soul cleansing

Can you baptise me with no reason or rhyme

then submerge and counterbalance the desire

with the rain

that will change the circumstance of loss


You want to remodel

restore and reinvent?

Now is the time to shower me with insight and logic

so I may see the truth behind your veil


Leaving for Siberia

Clouds IMG_20160515_082113.jpg

“For a friend”

The coming  mindful winter

brought on due to

circumstances at a point in time

offers a solitary existence

where peace can be restored

Thoughts of Siberia

bring clarity

from sensory overload

Where natures voice projects hypnotic sound waves

in a place of exile

The vast canvas becomes imbued with pale colours

as the wave reaches the summit

Self imposed


creates a block out from past events

The mind exists in another dimension

Oblivion becomes the saviour

Be Brave

bee on magnolia

Native bee on a Magnolia



without direction


Feeling distant with a surrounding barrier

invisible to those that cross



without control

knocked out

for surrender

to the passion

that leads to destruction


Guilty of mistakes

that lead to fateful fears and tears


Dreams shattered


Lives  connected

with soulful messages

to the collective


When the views of the population change the views of management change

Systems will change

Agreements can be made

Be brave



migrantaccom hostel.jpg

1961 migrant hostel – archival photo. This was what we lived in when we first arrived in Australia as migrants from England – not the happiest of times – I was 3 years old.
Coddiwomple (v.) Origin: English Slang Word. Definition: To travel in a purposeful manner towards a vague destination.


The communion of words

 were not political reasoning –

Stilted conversation behind open doors

inappropriately described

The land of the White

girt by sea

The parental necessity to get away from their homeland

overtaking  family considerations

and childhood fears

that have now lingered for years

Borrowed cultures

intertwined with superficial knowledge

Believers of so called truths

with hidden agendas

lurking within governmental control

watching and waiting for a non existent revolution