A selection of poems written by local artists, which I embroidered onto layers of canvas to form a tapestry of collective memory centered around the theme of eternal love. It was exhibited exclusively at The Royal Pavilion & Adelaide Salon Art Gala in June 2026 and then purposefully destroyed.
Meet me in the shadow
between the silver laps
You run around my mind,
freely & tirelessly
like you are yet to find
someone to return home to,
and the abyss that follows
Your sudden but calculated breath
that holds my heart suspended:
a flicker on the surface of
something greater than I
would ever admit to be surpassed by.
Hold me in the darkness,
where our fingertips speak their own language
as they star in a noir all too familiar.
Let us silently bare witness to
the magnitude of this Love.
Meet me where the light is dim
so I can see You glimmer my reflection
in this mirror that I know so well.
Meet me in our corner, where Your smile
is warm against my own,
And tell me that right here
we get to live
forever.
Dani Z.
Asked death if love is worth my end
Impossible to choose you
Impossible to pretend
Scales tipped against my lovers comfort
Bent and twisted in defeat
Poisoned chalice tastes bitter on blood red lips
Staining my heart, stealing my retreat.
We lie hopeless in squandered breath
Wishing wishes cast spells on vacant forms
Taking dreams from nightmare state
True to you as bride clad in black
Hollow steps marching to deadly fate
Veil draped ready to mourn
In front of rusty hate
Folklore holds a place for slaves
Who dance it all
When gods envy
Roses who are sure to wilt into shallow graves
Stephen G.
I hope your life is filled with
Light from March: I hope your
pockets brim with pebbles
Round, your kiss is caught
Beneath the sun and arch; I
Hope your jacket clings with
Buttons found; I hope your
Mouth is crammed with maple
Yells, that dance from lips onto
The sacred ground, so where
Was dusk now grows the
sapphire bells, and from your
Moth let chirp that April
Sound; for though the grey was
War and peace, and though the
Day was fiction quick and built
Of twigs, and though we’ve no
release from fleece, and
though we’ve yet to ripe our
Figs, it’s in the misty chill and
Brightness spill that brings us
Hope and joy when we are still.
Timothy
And when the now has shed its present tense,
And when the ‘has’ adorns its latent skin,
And when what-is becomes a woeful whence—
Just when Marcel (with mouth) has met his mandoline—
It’s then the ending ended ending: told
Had taken over tell; the book, its crease,
Had fallen in its final resting fold;
That’s when dear peace had found its restful cease.
But, once the had had had and the did did,
The void invited silence in for tea
And biscuits—it’s then the present shyly grinned,
For where there is a screaming silence. ‘Fin’
Will never be. And so the restful lack
Is in the twilight-crack of is and
Timothy
It ended after
The happened
Had
Happened;
It stopped after
The page flattened,
White
Blackened;
It didn’t end
When imagined,
But between
gap of now and
Written;
It never ends
In the thinnest,
Or when things are
Timothy
Today I found a letter from you
Had you forgotten you had written it so many years go
How could you write such tender words when we were so far apart
Yet when we are together no such endearments are allowed
To pass your lips.
What is it you fear from me? I am just me
The person you chose as your partner
Those many years ago when right from the start
You were afraid that I had come to steal your life
Not share it.
The struggle for power pulls us this way and that
Up and down as passion plays its part
Neither of us will capitulate or admit it is just a game
I want to hold you and have you tell me how much you love
My courageous spirit
But now you scorn me, accuse me of dominating you
Of using you for ends I will not reveal
Ambition maybe, avarice and greed
All of these words are flying from your lips that on some nights
Whisper words of love
Life had ways of playing tricks
Words that are written from a distance
Don’t mean the same as those spoken face to face
There is no threat at the end of a pen
A pen simply writes.
You are no longer with me so the words are unspoken
All I can feel is regret that we could not say to each other
Words that could have united us, made us one
Made us strong enough to meet the worlds face to face
Now all I can do is write.
J. Goldby
I asked him to marry me
He said “I can’t you see
I have promised to another
That she mine will be
I gathered up my shattered life
And took myself away
Despite the fact that he had begged
“Oh please, why don’t you stay?”
“This may not work, I’m not quite sure
If she’s the one for me
But she’s told her dad that I’m to blame
For things we can’t yet see
Many years had passed us by
I met him once again
And still my foolish heart beat fast
Forgetting all the pain
He picked me up we went for lunch
And talked of things mundane
Each wondering where this would lead
Each playing our own small game
“She left me quite some time ago”
He finally confessed
“She said I cheated her too much
She’s bitter and depressed.”
“Forgive me if I’m cynical
But I think you will agree
If we had been a couple
You’d have done the same to me. “
He protested loud his innocence
“It’s not like that at all
All that she was interested in
Was the kids and the bingo hall.”
He took me to the Summer House
And after passion throes
I thought of what just might have been
If it has been me he chose
He told me he had often thought
Of me with tenderness
And wished he’s made a different choice
But we could only guess
I moved away to distant shores
With the one who had my life
I put the other from my heart
And became a faithful wife
Once again the time had fled
Our paths have crossed once more
I stand behind the others
Just inside the door
This time he will not fool me
My heart is cast in stone
The others left and I am left
Beside his grave alone.
J. Goldby
You are a flower always growing
People often take flowers
Out of the ground and
Put them in water
Only to wither.
I think you just kept growing
Until the table toppled
The glass smashed
You followed the water trail
To the garden and let yourself have root
Your seeds carried with the wind
You kept growing
Everywhere your home the world your beauty endless…
Violet
Maybe it’s nice to think that love isn’t forever.
It’s okay for it to slip away like helium from a balloon.
Merging into an atmosphere much larger than itself.
Maybe it’s good to think that love is all around us.
Freshly escaped and searching for its new home.
Hermit crabs on the beach trying out different shapes of shell.
Maybe it’s strong to remember love is not a one-size fits all.
It could be made with good intention like your lumpy hand-knit cardigan.
Tucked away in your dressed drawer- best for reminiscing.
Maybe it’s foolish to hope that love understands time.
And taps on-beat with a pocket watch or at least my heart.
And will find me again when the universe wills.
Elly
I called out to my beloveds in the midst of grief
and the song of death lured me in for a kiss
My forehead glistened with anticipation
Here lies the rot of old wounds
It's stench
Bubbling with rage
My liver laments
My lover recedes/wanes
Everything here is saturated
I wriggle beneath my skin
I try to be less kind
Fae
I want to take the crumbs
Left after the world has finished eating us
And fit them all together
In a never solved before puzzle.
Johan M.
