Poetry | Stories | Photography
The Change
the change
hair arrives in odd places
increasingly invisible outside the house
checking if there are regrets
Children won’t be born of me
was I ever put on this Earth for them?
I decided no, a long time ago.
judgemental humour
useless to a one-track-minded society
my last egg dances away
Livid Haze
Lollipop love notes
loving everyone in the haze
dancing in the pit
Peace, love and
something akin to the rapture
overtakes you
The dance floor
is a place of unbridled feelings
constrained often
In the Livid haze
popping E’s like a 90’s heroine
touching no one
Petrichor Music
Rain notes
Forest music plays as soft falling rain
A pirouette between the trees
Dancing to the sound of forest music
A glimpse
A vision of elegance, a dream of her
Rufous Sky
You convinced them that the sky is Rufous
Worshipping you from the chairs
the messiah has come to save our souls
A rapture turns the crowd wild
the holy spirit dances through the believers
violent fictions turn into reality
Blood on the dance floor under a Rufous sky
Fated Hours
A desire
the heartstrings play a new melody
or an old melody on different strings
The desire won’t wait,
yet the deep winter night holds
stories and mysteries
A fool,
such matters were never my own
By design
An insect amongst billions
such a fool
icons clouded my vision
Soon
Lust Red Lips
Cigarettes and sex
human emotions in wax, oil and pigment
pouty supple lips
A new slogan
the make-up department bathes in magical icing
wild for the new line
Lust Red
Envy Green
Greed Gold
Pride Magenta
Wrath Indigo
Gluttony Orange
Sloth Yellow
Discarded
All the containers
we discard as we discard
the humans we love
Unloved, no longer useful
Sad and alone in landfill
The wild dying leaves
Contemplating the ending
Departing Autumn
Persimmon Dawn
Gloves of wool
a beanie with flying cats
layers of clothing
A Mugachino
startled frost-covered grass
breath shapes
The Winter dawn
Persimmon and soft blue layers
many birds sing
Morning dance
coffee smells mix with the dawn
rolling on the frost
The Bee and the Rose
The Bee buzzes in the warm sun,
many flowers are blooming.
The Bumblebee Sun feels Springy,
longing to feel the roses.
Beautiful pink blooms are many,
a special one is beckoning.
Diving into pink, bum to the heavens,
rubbing wildly within the petals.
Bursting with the desire to be lazy,
sleeping within the soft pink.
C & K 