A horse

A horse

Lets find a place
Where the horses do go
To carry their load
Walking to a fro

And here is one
Saying his peace
Wandering what to do
Waiting at least

And he has carried his load
Too much before
His masters all lost
He's paid the in the law

Making plans for the future
When the past was dead
Wanting to move forward
Moving ahead

He has moved onto pastures
Seeing the green
Passing over his losses
He's stopped being so mean

And there in the distance
The horse will play
For its another sun rise
On this summers day.

Fright Lost

Violins play
Piano notes
I cannot go on
With this sudden pain
The past is history
Moving on
Its gone on too much
I can never stay here
Lost, alone
Again and again
Even though I wish I could stay
I am gone
Hands up
I am alone
Years gone
Forward again
Past is past
Forgetting the pain
Packing my bags
Writing my notes
The saddness will go
The tears will disappear
And finally fright lost
Someone else will appear.

Too late for dirt

The ocean creeps up on the door,
A tear drop falls, near the floor
A little girl crying, a flood of life
Her day a mess, her heart a stife

And she clings to the little dolly
And sucks again on her winter lolly
Seeing in the distance a man of worth
Buried, lying solidly in the earth

And in the mornings she wakes with nightmares
Of thoughts, of hate, of all her hidden scares
And as she sits and shakes, and the symbols play
Its yet another life, yet another frightful day

And all these men, all the same
Playing some type of weird game
She clings to her dolly, once more here
Not knowing when she will be safe, ever near

And she walks into the ocean, dolly in hand
Leaving her life behind, a little hair strand
And no one will ever know how much it all hurt
For her daddy treated her like dirt.

Melbourne, Australia Art Event

sexual abuse pain creativity well being

no longer watching

from behind the curtain



beautiful mosaics created by women

exploring creativity transformation beauty

31 January- 28 February 2012

Queen Victoria Women’s Centre

210 Lonsdale Street Melbourne VIC 3000





EXHIBITION DETAILS

Queen Victoria Women’s Centre Gallery

8.30am to 5.00pm, Monday to Friday

P: (03) 8668 8100

E venues@qvwc.org.au

W: www.qvwc.org.au



SECASA provides a range of services to support people affected by

sexual abuse. Amongst these are creative workshops for women.

Freedom Picture

Merry Christmas

My path

Piano beat
Breath
Alone
Running
Signs
Long words
Lost in the beat
Symbols appearing
Meaning everything
And nothing
Another breath
Where was I
It is now a memory
Running
Lines
Houses from the past
Streets make my life
Memories thread all over me
Lost
Shaking shoulders
Not forgotten
With me forever
Hatred
Distress
The beat changes
Not my fault
Left behind
Move on
Passing memories
Moving forward
Positive
Future
No changing
Fast
Time taken
Relief
Relief
Relief
Relief
Relief
Relief
Relief
Relief
Relief

What would you think

And if you were in the room
Giving birth to the world
And you could hear a piano
People demanding
But your job was to
Bear humanity
And you thoughts go
Through the earth and
Pass onto your children
What would you think
Would you think
War
Peace
Love
Anger
Positive
Major
Fine
Strong
Live
Beat
Hate
Line

Love Haiku

The winter is gone
Bright sun smothers the sky blue
Love is found today

You're the Voice

Left to..

The beat thumps
I remember back
A tear drops
An umbrella slides
I run to the street
I see everyone
And everything
Crying and anger
The guitar strum
A generation in my net
My leg bounces
In anticipation
As I remember
What this song
Means
And there is no fright
There is just
Listening to the song
That I nearly
Left to......


Inspired by Bob Sinclair - Soul Generation

There they are

Just when you are feeling down
Like nothing in this world
Will care
No one to cry to
No one to be there
And you cry to a god
That does not exist
Where just where
Send me someone
Please just someone to care
And your tears
Drop unknown
By your side

And then when you just
Need something
A change
A simple change
Knowing that nothing can
Make you feel
You walk in
And there sitting beside you
Is just a familiar face
A familar smile
Just a tad older
Someone to count on
Who you trust and understand
And you know them
Though you just met
And there is that feeling
You were just missing
Knowing that it is ok to
Care
Because they do

14th November 2011

Walking in a Straight Line

Bronte's Story on Anorexia

Don't give up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


http://news.ninemsn.com.au/national/8358088/brontes-story-anorexia-teen-marries

Sitting on the dock of the bay....

A friend

She screams at you every night
And cuddles you every day
And cries beneath the sheets
In some fantastic way

And she makes you go here and there
And she flits without such a care
And she runs around full steam ahead
And throws around that brown little bear

And she sits and stares at little white balloon
And cries and howls at the full moon
And loves you with all delight
And then hates you with such sudden fright

And then finally after so many years
Of being forgotten through so many tears
You get reminded every now and again
You only need to look inside to find a lovely friend

My Little Pumpkin Vine

I always wished I had a pumpkin vine
And then I grew one within my spine
Tending nicely, eating slow
Running to and running fro

And there she was, all lovely and fine
A little plant, I knew she was mine
Was there something wrong, the gardener said
I cried a bit, but everything was fed

And as I watched, that pumpkin grow
Oh how I loved this plant and so
A little bit, every day
A little sprout, a leaf I say

It sits there; turns away to the sun
A little bit each day and has some fun
I water it every now and again
And give some fertiliser and when

And I teach it to love to hear me sing
And I take it under my loving wing
And then every now and again it smiles
That little pumpkin vine; worthwhiles

And then that pumpkin vine falls asleep
I cover it at night in a sheet
That pumpkin vine, so high and low
My pumpkin vine, how I love you so

Whitedove

A bird flying,

Its wings soaring through the sky,

Love floats in the air, no; I’m not lying.

It travels over mountains, water, trees, and cities.

This white dove is as peaceful as can be,



A very pretty bird- as the little girls think,

I love this dove, my heart sinks when I see it.

This dove, is my mother.

What is the bridge

Hold my hand on the island
Fill the ocean on its shores
Watch the seashells in the moonlight
See the sand as it pours

Sit by the berm in the daylight
Rest my head for a while
Not understanding what is happening
Silence is the best as we file

The bridge is a bit weary
The forest black from fires beware
Something swift hit the island softly
Turned our backs of something with care

Heaven is not always perfect
Hell can always slowly seep in
For you see you will never recognise
What has really ever happened with a sin

And have you ever wondered
Really what is that little bridge
That keeps us hanging together
Hiding there over that ridge

It keeps the ocean at bay
Sturdy however that may be
I close the door on it every now and again
And cry and cry at it every day

And I only just really recognised what it was
As I swiftly wrote out this little note
For the bridge is our love
Slowly joining us, over the moat.

And the little crystal I place in the middle
Is a reminder there to you
You are not alone on your island
Your island is now made for two

Not yet.

I once knew a little girl
Who sat by the door
Writing letters
Calling, visiting
Seeing if she could find
A pure heart.
For she thought none existed
A tear drops
As she writes, day after day
Telling why
Telling how
Searching
Hearing birds and angels
Saying...
It does not exist
Silently
Praying that it does
Seeking one after the other
A slow tweet, a soul here and there
To be found.... but alas
It was not to be
A number tell her
Be careful
Her thoughts say
But...it could be
She returns to searching
Writing, wondering
Being turned away
Questioned
Being told no
Not possible
Never
Grown up with a black heart
Does it exist
She keeps seeking
That little girl
Tries again
In vain
For there must be someone out there
That will
Not do this
All over again