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2018 Best New Talent - Short and Sweet Festival Sydney
2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)


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A poem for my teenage daughter, though perhaps more for her future self



A little personal this week. 

Children. Teenagers. Parenthood. No walk in the park. A lot of rewards. Depends on the age and stage of life and what our own lives consist of. Like all relationships, sometimes they flourish with little effort, others, only difficulties despite the work.

As of this poem, my daughter is thirteen. She will need me again but not now. That's hard to deal with.

It's a normal rite of passage yet brings up a range of polarising feelings.



In the same way

That being older

Made me a better parent

It created a tougher time

For the turmoil

Of teenage hood.


There’s no easy way through

On either side

A survival of the tsunami

Made through endurance.


Though my coping ability

Is far less

Than a decade or so prior

Though I waltzed out the door

Once before

So perhaps not.


Yet, now there’s nowhere

To walk to

No escape

For the prisoner

Who built

His own cell.


I hope for a happy outcome

Though my tank is already empty

And the journey ahead

Too long.


So, I’ll say sorry now


That I couldn’t do better

And take the responsibility

Which is mine to own.




7.55 pm.


In 2022, not long before 'the change' aged 11 1/2.

To be fair to her, I'm not the same as I was two years ago either. Hence this poem I suppose.

Off for a few weeks 'head' break. Not a holiday. 

There's plenty of diverse, original videos over at My YouTube Channel and daily posts on my Facebook Author Page.
Hope you're well. 


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