Poems · Poetry

The Silent Genius

Quiet, reserved, humble and pure
Her mind delves the deepest of oceans I’m sure
A silent genius
She expects no applause
One can only hope to imagine her flaws
Such a mysterious being
There must be so much locked inside
Yet her persona suggests that she has nothing to hide
In pensive thought I glance her take out a pen
And eloquently spill out a sentence or ten
“What is it you are you writing?” I finally cried
“Poetry” the silent genius replied.

For The Daily Post

Poems · Poetry


Are we the only creatures capable of self-reflection?
How are we sure?
Is the idea of a dog learning to recognise his own reflection so obscure?
How does the hummingbird return to the most nectar fuelled plants
If he does not remember the actions of his last little prance?
Or the male tiger who got into a scuffle last week
With that grizzly bear he now knows not to seek?
Or the cunning fox who waits for 9AM
Because that is when he knows he will catch the perfect hen
What about the female kitten who knows not to expect praise
When her owner returns home to her mischievous ways
Are we the only creatures capable of self-reflection?
How are we sure?
Is the idea that we are not the only intelligent beings so obscure?
Or do we hide from the everyday evidence
And the possible fact
That our intelligence may be shared
With a creature as minuscule
as a rat.

Poems · Poetry


All the same
Yet different shapes
Some of us are brittle
Some of us break
Some of us are squished
Some of us are strong
Some of us sing in the trees
All day long
Some of us eat vegetables
Some of us eat mice
Some of us birth ten babies
Some of us only twice
Some have blue eyes
Others have eight
Some leave mothers early
Some leave late
Some enjoy our nests
Some like to escape
Yet we are all the same
Just in many different shapes.