I am an artist and mental health worker who is lucky enough to live on a beautiful tiny island where I can paint and write to my hearts content.

Qualified in hypnotherapy, neuro-linguistic programming, counselling and art and design I have learned to utilize my skills in many different ways living in such a small community.

Sometimes I have painted large murals on outbuildings or on the sides of boats, produced silk paintings and watercolors to sell and greetings cards. At other times I have looked after the terminally ill in their own homes or the elderly who understandably don't wish to leave their lovely island homes and go to live in residential homes on the mainland.

My writing is often the result of my observations of how people interact and what makes them tick, which never ceases to fascinate me.

I believe that everyone has an interesting tale to tell and a novel lurking deep inside of them longing to get out and be heard.

I often feel tickled by such a desire myself which is probably why I found my way to Helium where such cravings are encouraged.

My passion is ...

Art, writing, music, life!

I know too much about ...

You can never know too much

My parents always told me ...

I was enough to drive a saint mad

My childhood ambition ...

Hmmmm... I was going to dig up old interesting stuff

My favorite memory ...

Stroking bumble bees that came out of big tall foxgloves in the forest when I was about 7 yrs old

Why I write ...

Because I love to

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

Reading The Field and listening to old fashioned jazz

My first job ...

At my aunts cafe when I was five

My best moment ...

Whenever I wake up in the morning and remember where I am...I usually have to ask matron, she always knows!

My inspiration ...

silence (maybe its the collective unconscious?) and nature

Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Perfect love

9 of 92

Loves belly timber
lays in the sun
as the face of honesty
with lips of kindness
and with bold beats of her heart.

With arms of comfort
she shoulders strength
and drips with desire
from smoldering sad eyes
and wells of emotion.

She sees
that perfection,
is not without sorrow
and that passion,
holds hands with that
which is fickle.

When ripe
she falls as a red berry
bursting with life,
spreading her seeds
and is now changed
into maturity.

She still feeds loves yearning,
but with friendship
and with a twisting of souls
through moonlight
reflecting on whats real.

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