Footprints of a Stranger

By Barbara Gurney

Footprints of a Stranger is a collection of emotions - tiptoeing between the experiences of the author and the sentiments of others. Barbara Gurney's poetry passionately explores attitudes, observes nature and reminisces. Nature compels us to take heed - 'stand up, bring the world your courage'. Contemplations express the shadows lurking within us

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debbie Lee
• Release date: Jun 13, 2015
• ISBN: 9781740279758

Barbara Gurney

Barbara Gurney writes across several genres including short fiction for adults and children and free verse poetry. After over fifteen years of writing and editing a newsletter for a community-based organisation, she joined the Gosnells Writer's Circle in 2008 & Writefree Women’s Writing Group at KSP Writers Centre in 2009. Both groups continue to inspire Barbara to regularly produce poetry and short stories while their encouragement pokes at her ambition to publish a novel. Many of her pieces have been accepted for the groups’ annual anthologies. *Fairies of the Milky Way was accepted in 2009 by Stories for Children Magazine, an American online publisher. *Living Histories, a Western Australia State Government initiative, accepted Barbara’s submissions for both the 2008 & 2009 publications. *Competition success came in October 2009 when Counting of the Stones was awarded a ‘Commendation’. *A short story for children Jake’s New Friend was shortlisted in the Charlotte Duncan Award 2010. *2011 – Shadows of Remembered Dancing, a 267 word story was awarded Highly Recommended in Scribblegum’s Gum Leaves Competition. *2012 - Honourable Mention for 'Honest People' Golden Wattle Writing Competition. *2012 - First Prize for "Purple". Yarram Community Learning Centre Annual Literary Competition. *2012 - First Prize for "Wide Brown Land". Minlaton Show Literary Award. *Barbara's book of poetry ‘Footprints of a Stranger’ is now available from Ginninderra Press ISBN 978 1 74027 767 9. www.ginninderrapress.com.au In her non-writing life Barbara has been a drummer, bagpiper, swimmer, debt collector and a secretary - amongst other collective nouns. She has two adult children. Her son lives in Prague with his wife and two children, thus giving Barbara a glorious holiday destination with free accommodation. A locally based daughter and son-in-law makes sure she has people to spoil without an airfare being necessary. She is the current Secretary of the Gosnells Writers Circle and a sub-editor of their magazine Showcase, which has been published three times a year since October 2010. Barbara communicates with the overseas contributors and approaches local businesses for paid advertising support. Barbara likes nothing better than to tap away on the computer, creating characters worth remembering and hiding her life experiences in the pages. She finds satisfaction in writing stories for others to enjoy. Based in a southern suburb of Perth, she is supported by her husband Graeme, who has the honour of being the first to hear the latest edition of Barbara’s writing.

Book preview

I’ve come this way with open heart

With tales of days well travelled

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Reflect upon the unknown spirit

Explore the path together

Lamentation

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There’s tomorrow to traverse

from a day that clings

cocooning the hurt

afraid of release

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Wandering the hours

in search of a rainbow

a starburst of shining

potential of joy

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Prepare a new path

softly like a whisper

let the pain fall from my heart

slowly so I’ll remember

The sigh that reaches us all

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The whale sighs

It breathes in pain

The skin dries and begins to wither

Insignificant waters wash in and out

and man tempts beast to live

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Buckets and shrouds are used

but vainly one may think

Urging, striving, while sunset descends

The struggle built on freedom dreams

One succumbs, and man is distraught

but one is saved and blessings fall

Humbled against the might

the beach has left a memory

Loss

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Hidden in the folds of skirts are dreams that cannot be

Favourite blue jeans

lie where they fell from her tender frame

I cannot touch what once were hers

Memories are tucked beneath cotton and rayon

The pockets still hold her spirit

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Some days I stand quietly wishing for her presence

A soft kiss

A gentle touch

Just one more precious moment

I hear my breath short with anguish

My palms face upwards as I ask, ‘For what?’

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The dust builds over teenage clutter

Emptiness pervades her