Jacqui Thewless Poems

Love’s loss is
endless.
There will be no recovery
of the thing that is lost –
...

Last evening
sharp-snipping scissors cut my hair

and white cream squeezed from a nozzled
...

On your far journey,
with the sun at your back,
may you be always meeting
Kindness, Gentleness and Pardon,
...

I was twelve years old.

The one-man band from Duluth
with harmonica
...

i

before it recedes
a tide brings you the present
...

Brick by brick
we are building a future
with our own hands -
...

Rowen, my first child:
her first glimpse of me / her mum's
first hint of glory.
...

Pens are lifted
and there’s the click;
the shuffling of sheaves as we out-breathe
and then’s the intersection of an insistent bird’s trill;
...

in council houses
and manicured estates -
imagine whistles!
...