This is it
I am leaving wordpress after 5 years of poetry

It has been wonderful
But enough is enough

If you want to stay in touch and follow my poetry
You can find me on substack

My subscription will run until the end of this month and then expire.

Thank you so much for following me, liking my poems and paying some attention.
The poetry is not stopping, only my chosen and preferred platform.
I still do all my poetry free and substack is no different.

So if you fancy continuing the journey jump on.
Otherwise be well and be blessed.

Kavi Jezzie Hockaday


Leave your bags
At the water’s edge
Go naked and empty

Dive in to the deep
Let the water cleanse
Your energy body

Do not look back
Neither look forward
Be where you are

Enter the moment
Between the in-breath
And the out-breath

Allow eternity itself
To be revealed to you
By dying to all
That is temporary

Be still
And walk
To the busy market
Return with your basket full
And your mind free.

Image by mohamed Hassan from Pixabay

turn towards simple beauty, you are a zen master

in the simplicity of zen mind
everything is beauty
because it is as it is

and it is us who bring complexity and confusion
we who bring doubt and divide existence 
it is us who create the duality we live in
in zen mind there is no good or bad
or right or wrong, there is no judgement upon things

this is not a cold, loveless state
not a denial of suffering
but instead is a simple turning towards 
the truth of things
and seeing with the eyes of god

turn again towards your experience 
and look from awareness, not self,
and maybe you will catch a glimpse
of the is-ness of things unfolding
moment by moment 
no reason
no interpretation
no judgment
just this

what peace, what emptiness 
what beauty, what love

thats it, that’s all it is
simple beauty
you are a zen master


the poetry of small things done beautifully

there is a sweetness in simplicity
when you slow down enough
to become present
to each and every action
without distracted mind
without wishing you were some place else
but doing the thing you are doing
i learned this through the great art
of washing up
it brings me such great pleasure
this simple joy
is presence
a communion with life
an undoing doing
i don’t rush
or neglect
neither do i fret
i just pay attention
and allow it to happen
as if by itself
such is
the poetry of small things done beautifully

i pray this secret joy
is not forgotten
in the pursuit
of importance.

Photo by Catt Liu on Unsplash

the greatest poem never seen

imagine that the greatest works of art
have never been seen
by anyone beyond the artist

that poem you wrote and never showed anyone
the story that stayed in your head
or the song you played for no one but god

these are the unsung heroes of life

not everything has to be seen
and shared
sold and scrutinized

there was a film i saw recently
of a poet who lived a regular life
his daily poems were just an expression
of life
he was not seeking fame or fortune
or striving to be read
in fact his book of poems
was destroyed by the dog
and no one had read them

some art exists for its own sake
it is all consciousness expressing itself
through form
and it doesn’t care abut fame or readership

i have often said
some of my best songs have never
been heard by anyone.

embrace your aloneness it is your liberation

only when you have
embraced your aloneness
can you truly
relate to another
the path of love
is really
the recognition
that each of us
is utterly alone
when a human being
is unaware of this
they grasp and clutch at each other
desperate to feel safe
but when one has embraced
the truth
all grasping stops
and only the luminosity
of this exquisite agony
each of us utterly alone.

One Thing

Pull one thread and the universe unravels
Because everything is one thing
All the same silken divine thread
From the lowly worm to the cosmic star
All one inexplicable thing
Called God.
What a realization that is.
– Kavi Jezzie Hockaday

“Self is only an idea, a mortal idea.
That which passes through everything, is one thing.
The world you see is just a movie in your mind.”
– Jack Kerouac