About Gabegartrell35@gmail.com

Gabrielle is a sensitive soul; like a frog, she uses her skin to feel her way through this world. She is an indicator for creativity and social change, and is currently writing a poetry anthology of death. Gabrielle writes under the pseudonym “fringe lily”, inspired by women who live outside the box. Her most recent poetry performance was alongside an Indigenous musician, streaming live from his Tin Camp Studios. It’s a surprise to Gabrielle to find herself middle-aged, and confirmed by many a professional as completely normal. Inspired by the Buddha who is fat and happy as fuck, Gabe lives a simple life in rural Tasmania. Friends call her warrior woman or cheesy romantic depending on which day they find her. She is fascinated by contradictions – she studies eastern philosophies and is looking out for the ever-elusive balance between intellect and creativity.

August 2020

The Kiss

2020-08-28T13:58:51+10:00By |Categories: Text|Tags: |

The Kiss is one of 7 poems within the Sea Eagle Collection. The Sea Eagle Collection was written after the death of Gabrielle’s late husband, the magnificent Richard Frank. As Gabrielle waded through grief and excessive love, her journey of lost and found coincided with the rising prominence of a friendship between bird and human. An inventory of sea eagle sightings became defunct as these birds became a regular everyday occurrence.

Green space

2020-08-24T12:27:18+10:00By |Categories: Free|Tags: |

As a deep thinker, I often over think. Walking is a way for me to love myself up, to recognise that my body is not just a vehicle to carry my head around, there's more to me than my thinking brain. Solitude is a make or break kinda thing, like meditation it can teach me to be zen, or scare the hell out of me. Intimacy is weird like that, especially intimacy with oneself. I wrote this poem after a solo hike in the abundant nature that is Tasmania. As a nature warrior, I, like many, love and connect through nature and make it my responsibility to care for and protect this rich environment.


2020-08-24T12:11:44+10:00By |Categories: Text|Tags: |

Viloma means against the natural flow. I think? That's what my yogi friends tell me anyway, (pass the buck complete!). On the, ooh too early, death of my husband I found myself with an excess of love. So much love was residing in my little storehouse of being. I wrote this poem after a 3 day yoga retreat, with the added fortunate surprise of some post orgasm dopamine thrown in as a creativity boost.


2020-08-24T11:47:35+10:00By |Categories: Lock Down|Tags: |

I dance, that's who I am. I dance to express myself and release, to be deliberate in allowing the flow. With covid 19 came the closure of many known dance spaces. I wrote this poem on arrival to a closed door, as a way to shift the discomfort that came on meeting new restrictions. So, I ran the beach, reaching the river mouth, to my own beat.

Desert Dreaming

2020-08-24T11:00:25+10:00By |Categories: Text|Tags: |

After the death of my husband, her Father, I took my 11 year old daughter on a 10 day hike on the Larapinta trail, near Alice Springs. We walked in the morning and later in the day after the afternoon sun had lost its sting. We rested in found shade during the middle of the day and shared, alternating daily, our one book and sketch pad. One day I’d read, she'd would draw, and the next day we would swop. Amelie sang to help her through the 100km journey. I wrote poetry to help me. This one I wrote of our journey.