Gypsy Heart

black and white photograph with flower photo and text

black and white photograph with flower photo and text

Gypsy Heart


When the wrinkles

On my hands

Seem to of etched

Themselves stealthily

I think at my age

You washed in streams

A freezing delight

In England’s

Cold days and cold nights



I am not the gypsy heart

you are

With your wild uncut hair

Dancing shoes in the mud

And milking Marigold at 5am

In the early sunrises of the west coast


Taking champagne in the steaming hot tub

Outside even in the dead of winter

Your Bobby and your converted

Furniture van

set with mezzanine beds

And an open fire yotul to cook from

They were your home

In my turn with you

Your green van makes your current cottage look palatial

And writers room a complete delight

But it must be hard

To still the beating gypsy heart


You are gifted with adaption genes

Let now be the







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When you take away their homes,

What do you attempt to achieve?

To rip them from the land, which is living history,

The bones will unsettle and the names will dislodge


How can you say things will get better?

For the people who have lived for 40 millennia

In this same land, same country

Premier, do you know what that’s like?

To belong to the land not just drain it for minerals?


I can’t see a clear, well thought out plan,

Of where to next for our indigenous clans.

Clinging to our coastline is eighty-five per cent of the population,

Why chase away the native knowledge of good bush foods,

tourism and art……there is so much more they have to offer,

As we only turn our backs and face the sea.


When I heard a hundred and fifty communities were to be closed

I thought it some sort of joke, but all too soon the Macbeth

Of public policy, Premier Colin Barnett breaks through with his announcement


When you touch the hand of a tree, you know it is living,

You can see the leaves change hue, you can the see the fruit,

Plump with life force and ripening goodness

Then you mustn’t turn away from this giver of sustenance



This is how I feel about the Indigenous communities

We must not turn away

Once you know the weeping grass,

the grass that sends plumes of pheromones

weeping to tell each other that they’ve been cut

We know by science,

what native cultures

know by experience


I think that closures like this are based in some

sort of fantasy-white-man-land

What does Colin the Premier know?

About living on country?

Is it his custodial heritage?

Are his toes tied to the banksia tree,

Deep in its ferment

Dreaming its name before Captain Cook


I am not one to speak

But some things are stupid

And this is just short sighted


To solve a problem, you have to give it




And then maybe things go from brink

To respect, interest, compassion.



© Bee Williamson 2015

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SKETCHES Group Drawing Exhibition

Hey, I am part of Synergy’s group exhibition opening this week at Ceres’s Harvest Festival. check out Synergy Gallery online:

sketches exhibition flyer 2015
SKETCHES Group Drawing Exhibition

Show Opens Saturday March 21st 12-2pm during
HARVEST Festival
Runs til Saturday 11th April 2015

Synergy Gallery Inc.
Synergy at CERES
Red Train at CERES Environment Park
Crn Roberts and Stewart Streets
Brunswick East 3057 VIC

Bee Williamson:

I have four framed artwork in this exhibition all for sale. The four drawings are all pen and ink and watercolour. They include a work on Reincarntion, a piece on depression called, “World in a Tear”. Also a work on angels and how they heal me and then “Buddha’s Rose” which is about my long affinity with Buddhism.

“All true artists, whether they know it or not, create from a place of no-mind, from inner stillness”

Eckhart Tolle

Owl & me - Who Cares?

Owl & me – Who Cares?

My artwork is about the process. For me it is ‘meditation in action’. I enjoy quieting the mind and just feeling the brush on the canvas, the pen on the paper. This years work started as an expression of my love of nature. Sometimes nature is my only solace.

Nature is my solace, my friend and my protector. My main themes in my artworks up till now has been women, dance and flowers. I have always had a fascination with details, especially flowers, since as early as I can remember. I could sit for hours just studying a daisy.

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wild within wild

wild within wild


I don’t belong

in the

crowded cafe

central station bustle

crammed city streets

shopping centres

peak hour tram rides home.


Give me

the desolate moors

of Exmoor

the cliffs

and rugged

Celtic Sea tide


I belong in the


of Byron

little Wategoes

where the dolphins swim


I don’t belong

where only humans dwell.

Some part of me

smacks at the concrete artifice

we have made


Give me the lonely bush

of Eildon’s high country

miles upon miles

of ghost gum



the birds of my city home

they are my friends

they guide me, warn me,

laugh and giggle at me


the neighbour’s big husky

patrols our street

she has the eyes

of her ancestors


I am wary


with her so near

(which is good)


broken-hearted misfit

belongs in the moors of home

where mum wrapped me

in scarves

in hats

in layers


cheeks whipped with wind

pink & fresh

eyes clear


I was

wild within wild.

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The Writing Process Blog Tour

The Writing Process Blog Tour

Monday 19th May 2014

The Monday Writing Process Blog Tour connects writers and readers around the world. Writers are invited to reply to four questions about their writing process and then pass the baton to other writers. I would like to thank my dear Mother, Carol Middleton, for inviting me, she is an inspiration with her public readings, reviews for Australian Book Review and award winning short stories. 

  1. What am I working on?

I’m working on my sixth book of poetry, “Torment & Soul”. It’s about suffering, and how it can alchemise your soul. Illness can bring depth to your life, an understanding you may never have possessed, had you never experienced chronic illness.

My book has around 170 poems and is illustrated in a restrained palette of black and white pencil portraits and nudes. In my last two books I used photography and watercolours and paintings, so this time the colour is out. Just simple pencil will do, especially when the themes are so big. Six divinations – Love, Nature, Madness, God, War, Life.

To purchase my last two book, “The Hidden Self” and “Nature – a gift”, go to or if you prefer e-books just go to and search under my name.


  1. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

From the modern Australian poets I’ve read, simplification is the key. I use some rhyming, and don’t shy away from that. When it comes out, it comes out, so be it. This style is not fashionable in intellectual poetry circles, but I don’t care. I don’t try and push it out or sit for hours trying to rhyme. Mine started happened during a particularly intense psychotic, euphoric episode where I rhymed the entire world and every race into harmony. Can’t say I’d do it again! But that’s how it started.

I also don’t shy away from the big themes, like God or War or Madness, which again is unfashionable in Australia. A strong atheistic, secular society. But I want to talk about these things.

  1. Why do I write what I do?

I think an immersion in Rumi’s poetry made me want to write that kind of free verse.

I was also taken as a child to many poetry readings around Melbourne in the 80s. I grew up listening to all the regulars at the Provincial and the Perseverance hotels. My stepmother is a performance poet and the words her friends spoke at these readings must have etched me as a poet. My older brother is a fine poet, but it was advice from a dear friend in 2006 that really kick-started my obsession with publishing my words and artwork. I suppose I write what I would like to read. A few years away from forty years old makes me think I’m eligible to write about the big themes. I’ve lived enough and am entitled to now (I hope!).

  1. How does my writing process work?

I write what comes to me in inspiration. It’s like my mind becomes very still, emotion is distilled in that moment. My mind wants to write about issues I’ve seen, heard, read about.

It’s like my mind fuses with light, and I get this gut reaction, “I have to write this down now”.

I get it down, the basic premise and then I can relax. It usually hits when I’m just about to nod off, so I have many notepads and pens beside my bed. I dunno….it must be the blood-flow to the brain or something… Deep relaxation lets the problems of the heart and mind, society and religion become distilled in silence and Eckhart Tolle-style meditation. I swear by him!

thats me

x Bee

I am inviting blogger extraordinaire Maribel Steel to take up the baton next Monday. Maribel is an author and speaker who shares personal stories in how to master the ART of being blind. She published her first nonfiction book in 2012 and is currently working on a collection of personal essays for an upcoming ebook, At the gateway to blindness.

Secondly, I’m inviting Sarah Martin to blog. At the age of sixteen, Sarah was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa, a degenerative eye disease. Shortly afterwards she discovered a strong connection to writing. For her, the two are connected: it is because of the darkness that she writes, and she writes because of the darkness.

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the black canvas


The black canvas – National Gallery of Australia in Canberra

When you try and walk into the fifth room of European and American art at the National Gallery of Australia in Canberra, you can’t. You might want to, but you can’t.

Let me explain.

Walking through Claude Monet’s, ‘Meules, milieu du jour’ [Haystacks, midday] everything in your heart is good. It’s a lovely day, the warmth of the light is sailing you through this foreign gallery. Having just seen the Monet collection at my NGV I was familiar with the glowing light and how it touches your soul and soothes you.

I was happy then to walk through the Fauvists and Surrealists. To see the work of André DERAIN, ‘Le Cavalier au cheval blanc’ [Knight on a white horse], with it’s warm hues and figurative basis and a general nod in Gauguin’s direction.

It was years ago, walking through the National Gallery of London, that I noticed how the works of light, the works of the Impressionists stunned me into tearful joy.

painting done in hospital.

painting done in hospital.

I had been walking and standing all day there, and apart from the tiny miniuture angels of the Bystantine era, like the work, ‘The Virgin and Child with Saints Dominic and Aurea’, by Duccio…….. it was black. Stunning…but black. Canvas after canvas of Jesus, or of political figures and historical events. All important of course, precious works, yes,  but painted on black.

After six hours of lack of colour saturation..I rounded the corner of the gallery and WHAM!

Knock out SLAM!

The colour! The light! The beauty!

Suddenly I was in a new world – a new world of gorgeous, sumptuous luminosity from artists like Cézanne, Degas, Gauguin, Manet, Monet, Pissarro, Renoir and Seurat.

I love art, but am an emotional empath – which means I feel others peoples feelings…which includes pain. Yes, physical pain. And the pain in conceptual art in the NGA after the 1980’s is too bleak to look at. Societies loss of soul is encapsulated so brilliantly in a black print by Anish KAPOOR – “Wounds and absent objects”.

You cannot go lightly through this room of work.

The room seems to of lost all hope, the canvases are bleeding, stabbed, scrawled, scraped and hacked. I cannot find it in myself to continue, the room starts to spin as I look upwards to a gaping ceiling. I do not have the stamina or the metal acuity to assault my eyes and heart to something that is so lost and alone, alienated and debased as a black canvas.

Gasping for beauty, I turned and ran out of the gallery.

Bee Williamson

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The Creative Path

Om Shanti

Om Shanti

The Creative Path

Naomi Downie

It’s a pleasure to be asked by Bee to contribute to her Curio blog. I have long admired her art & design work from near & far, as well as her commitment to the creative life thru her business & personal endeavours.

I relish a project and I am kind of excited to indulge in sharing with you my own creative path, focusing on recent years as a nice way to reflect, as I move, as we all move into 2014. Selfie snap-I am typing on a laptop in a Glebe Cafe, in very net friendly hipster space on a Friday morning. Which bless me, I have taken off this year’s work calendar, for My Project: Which is committing to art all FRI-day in view of future exhibitions and collaboration’s. I have found a Glebe Art Studio to paint in Friday afternoons, so I am beside myself with excitement about going there this afternoon.

I seem to have been always searching and moving since I was a child. Transferring to Sydney 4years ago when a job offer came my way, gave me pause before I found the belonging place. That is living in Glebe. A still village like fusion of cultures & vultures/ dreamers & lovers, where I could feel safe and a part of a community. Still like all people I longed for intimate close group of friends here and that’s not always easy to find.   Just when my loneliness had become too solid I saw a tiny hand drawn pamphlet advising a night of intentional community with a speaker on travel in St Johns’ Road and a new door opened.



This is still my haven after 3years, a space of womb like lounges to sink into and be enfolded by, with different thought provoking speakers and discussions to stimulate, stretch & strengthen. Meeting beautiful people I have camped with, partied with, dined with, and enjoyed live music with ever since.

I mention them as they become a strong part of my current creative story. In 2012 I ran a series of workshops called ‘artspace’ there, over a 3mth period with another artist-Michelle. We alternated between a free art making and guided projects from ‘the artist way’ to help us along. The group drank wine and ate cheese & dips around the table together. As we painted we shared our week, worries and wisdom. For a time it became my succour filling me with women’s voices & hearts helping each other.

Pear Mother

Pear Mother

I had run art therapy workshops in the Melbourne after training with a private collage called the phoenix institute- which I loved! I had created more structured style of meditation/ therapy & art making. In collaborating with Michelle, a softer organic healing took place that naturally arose as we worked. Stories of gender we had two transgender members, of job loss & homelessness and of corporate life with no home time.

 My haven was dropping in numbers so they decided  to advertise themselves using one of my works on paper images in a postcard at the Glebe Street Fair (the money was timely).

Dragonfly kisses

Dragonfly kisses

Last year saw a wind change and an acknowledgement that for this community to move forward there needed to be a celebration of the past 16 years and a rebooting with new name & fresh new values & purpose. That’s where I came in. I was asked to curate an art exhibition inviting all past members to show, emote & create a piece of art that reflected their time with the group.

With some curatorship experience behind me as a youth project worker: Xhibit01- art works all created by young people in Camberwell/Canterbury/Hawthorn area of Melbourne, shown in multiple cafes & businesses in 1999, opened by the Lord Mayor of the time. Later on I was given the opportunity to join an artist collective & become a committee member with Synergy Gallery in Northcote, Victoria. We organised a show called ‘Recovery’ for artist’s who had experienced illness & loss and who had used art as a way to express this journey. I had 7 pieces included which were my creation story series. It was apart of  High St Festival 2009 where all the galleries had openingson  the same night, so people went up & down the street attending them, lots of wine glasses travelled with them . Selling “Venus Rising” an artwork I am proud of was a personal hit.

Venus Rising

Venus Rising

 Having enjoyed these experiences l dived head first into this new adventure.

“Celebrate Cafechurch Art Exhibition was born March 2013, with an art team of 3 (including myself) working tirelessly behind the scenes; as I was also a member I contributed to the show with some of my art pieces.

North Star

North Star

It was a big success with artworks coming from all over Australia and overseas including published books, archives, poetry, installations, paintings, drawings, video diary, music composed during that regime. The opening also celebrated the musicians from the group playing in different sets and poets with performances. There were tears from some as memories of betrayals, broken friendships and the sheer hard work of seeing what you had created be acknowledged and see its ending noted. I did a fair bit of counselling with people leading up to the show and afterwards as this was the healing art therapy side to it all.

rainbow cake_naomi

Rainbow Cake

I spent my adolescence and university days in Newcastle and it has a strong pull on my heart. I was chuffed to be included in the magazine, with two of my works on paper in the publican “Keeping Newy Weird” project, which opened with much fun in the, ‘This Is Not Art’ festival there. I loved having this connection over the year with the project as it keep me close  to Newcastle and the opening was a great excuse to have a weekend away, catch up with old friends even an old flame and well as go to the great progressive theatre that was on.

I took my friend Matt to the launch, as my date. He is the editor of “Skive” a men’s zine that had been going for 10years to his credit. I had published a love/ erotic poem with it years ago (issue 12), that I had written from the male perspective. So when he decided to wrap up the zine after a decade, I was asked along with all the other contributors to submit. The topic was death & grief and I sent of a women comforting another with a broken heart & a drawing of Orsisos-Eypytan God killed by his brother.



I ended the year on a personal creative high as a Guest Speaker, giving a talk on Art & Spirituality- with the focus on my journey exploring the divine feminine thru art&poetry.  It was so confronting to share about something so important to me but that almost made it all the more important to express.

Thanks Bee & friends of curio…I am off to buy oils for my paint class now. Kisses & hugs

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A Field of Dahlias – poetry and nature

Nature – a gift.

The book is about the gift. That nature is a gift. In the same way our bodies are a gift from Great Spirit/ or God.

Now, Nature is degraded, by some, seen as just a resource to be emptied, used and exploited. I feel that the true interconnectedness of us and nature is not celebrated enough. David Suzuki’s message is the same, to honour, love and protect the gift.

Our farmers know we need to honour our earth, relish her as a gift. To exploit our earth as something that is just “a thing”, an “object” to get the most out of, to extract and carve up, is some thing that most native cultures see as a bizarre and a strange attitude.  Native American and Indigenous Australians know we don’t own the land, we belong to her.

I believe that some of us, who are hard at work, need to know that some things we all do are just “the mindless acquiring of wealth” as my grandfather said to me. To seek only to acquire money for no real purpose other than to have more, leaves our earth in hands that may not benefit all our collective interests in the long run. While our backs are turned what happens to mother nature?

A Field of Dahlias

when you think of paradise

what do you see?

I see a field of dahlia’s, heads high and open to the wind

of a lush garden of fruits

of a warm familial hand cradling a tea mug

the feeling of being held in an embrace

that stills the chattering mind

a mind that knows no end of selfishness.


these things are not priced, like a life, at a dollar an hour

these pleasures are not controlled by markets

and shareholders

I am not winning because you are losing

I am not gaining from your slavery


When I hear of a young man’s suicide in china

a young man weary and beside himself

in slavery to the machine of capitalism

I weep

lying in bed

completely overtaken with guilt

that my choices




my ipod is his nickel stains

my leather purse is his tannery stench

our cheap rice his gangrenous infection


a field of dahlias

paradise within a world

that has no inbuilt conclusion

but that we say goodbye to

when our heart or lungs or mind

ceases it’s weary obligations

to continue life


we say farewell

to our home on Earth

the place where nature

is our birthright

and a gift to everyone


where we breathe the same air

as 12th century mystic poets

turn the same soil as our grandmothers

turned with her same love

for the peace rose

the plum petunia

the scarlet geranium

I believe we need to be reminded of this and so I wrote these poems. My grandfather was an English nature writer, and it was his spirit that came to me one April, when I was at a loss of what to do with these feelings and needed a project to get my teeth into. His spirit came to me and said, “I know Bee, why don’t you write a book of nature poems and illustrate them?”. From that moment I was inspired and motivated. I began by enrolling in Botanical Illustration classes at the RBG!

‘Nature-a gift’ as an e-book from Blurb:

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Shadows of My Neighbourhood video on Facebook

Check out my new book, done as video as I can’t get iPhoto and Blurb to be compatitble – so here it is any way.

enjoy the random music 😉

xx BeeBop

Posted in Art, book, Design, Mother Earth, Nature, Poetry, Spiritual, Uncategorized | 3 Comments

Mother Earth I

from Mother Earth to you:

Owl & me - Who Cares?

Owl & me – Who Cares?

Earth needs to heal, people of earth, remember your place
Your only little
It’s a big big plan for world health
To remember our place, says the Goddess.
To respect women of earth, to remember our place in the bigger scheme of things.

Be tough, be strong, but remember your place, your home is Mother Earth.
She is bawling, weeping for kindness and compassion.
We have the whole earth to protect.
Prepare the earth for a New World Order.
Be still, be aware, listen to nature.
The whole garden is alive!

Mother Earth is our home, she nurtures us, in every way possible, that the planet can.

Trust the earth, YOUR HOME

We must remember our true place IN nature, not hero’s nor warriors, fighting each other.

But our country, our home, our lives are just like dreams!

Awaken the dream of true planetary healing. We must all serve, serve the greater good, which is in all of us.

We must watch over our precious earth, spread our wings, feel her tenderness, feel her strength, feel the heart in nature.
It resonates in song.
Please dance, have joy, have simple pleasures. There are teachings in rare and precious book, like “Garden Wisdom”, if you find these books, look
And you will see the ecosystems, the divine order of all things.

swallows dancing in the air, from Apollo Bay...

swallows dancing in the air, from Apollo Bay…

I have been guided to write this by Mother Earth,
We have much love, much compassion, but there is too much hatred on planet earth.
If you see a little birdie, let it sing it’s wisdom to you! feel it’s joy, it’s catching! see it’s place, it’s true nature is goodness.

We have a place as well! We are here to serve the greater good, not to be greedy and strive for success and be so stressed by our modern life.

Sit on the earth, sit at her feet on the beach and PLAY, tickle her, feel, touch, breath: it is sacred, our Mother.
Be a mother and father to all we have, this includes ants, insects, bees, kangaroos, wallabies and all other gorgeous animals
Many many different species, and all one tribe. One earth tribe!

Feel our connection in the softness of our soul, our heart connects us all.

Lots of Love, Mother Earth, and her scribe, bee bop xoxo

P.s. Please forward to anyone who feels love for our mother!

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