A whirlwind of gradual pleasure


life is my pleasure

unremarkable, determined thoughts driving into

the calm, fertile bay of cosmic consciousness.

It is purity sweeping over me

interrupted only by

hot pebbles rolling

in my shoulders and hips,


brush is

thick and wet

consolidating energy

parting , breasting , gliding , angling

on it’s rambunctious journey

flexed green toes

bounding past

tribespeople standing,

deceptively still


with god’s eyes

peeking over cups of sun

minds like water….

knots are unravelling, unconvincingly  tied in the first place,

clots draining away

till the sickness is nought but a dribble

a drip

a coagulating puddle of tar

used for other unnecessary things…..

but all

becoming a whirlwind of gradual pleasure



I AM Change- 30 Day Change Challenge










Hello there, Just interrupting normal erratic poetry postings to let you know about something pretty darn cool

but only IF you are in the mood for some……


life affirming



Sometimes when we are on a conscious journey of self-discovery we hit a kind of plateau where

although we KNOW something needs to give we not sure what or how to go about it.

Well I have put together a course which involves 30 days of diligence  in order to shift your sticky bits 😉 and help you get on with this phenomenon called life.

The program involves tasks, art related and otherwise, focused thought and much much more…come through on this link to watch me ramble on some videos and read more about it 🙂


love, Arna

la plus grande œuvre


no superficial thing….

is it


letters sink into paper like fingers into skin

paper receives ink like cells inhale connection

it is absorption

it is beautiful

it is magic

oh truth

when reduced to love

our density falls away

torturously inexplicable




Don’t Listen To The Bells


games involving firewood

result in splinters


the ants go marching one by one

hurrah hurrah



floored by lino and valium her apron is stuck between her legs

crumpled and damp

tense air on slack cheeks

he is gone and he is still here slapping her rightness in the face

those were some hairy hands



she remembered when they glimmered light with certainty

rubbing off in subtle patterns

delicious and secretive

telling stories of church bells and worn stone, folding like sugar creme

turning up the heat.


the bells


wind this city down, clip the folders shut,  bring adventure to a close


a directive not a soothing

a belt not a swing

a confine not a win


and we are laughing on clouds with our feet dangling in a robust swamp brimming with colour and life.









Sibella Poetry Magazine Looking for GREAT poets to submit work!


Hi everyone thought I would regale you of this opportunity to showcase your work 🙂 at the same time as tell you I am in this edition.

Arna Baartz AD











Actually I was a winner in their comp so will be in a few upcoming editions.

Enter your work or simply ENJOY!

Sibyl Magazine: For the Spirit and Soul of Woman

Sibella Poetry Magazine: Poetry To Set the Soul Aflame

APR_MAY Sibella Poetry COVER 2014