excessive living
a candy-coated heaven
dreaming about us
solid gold shoes and silk socks
carried around by robots
Category: Fantasy
Belly of the Beast
A misunderstood person.
A bitch to some, yet a lover and a fighter to a few.
When the time came,
there were no lights in the sky, nor any miracles.
From the belly of the beast
came forth a gift like no other;
a bundle of innocent magic, a gift of a dream.
Haiku: Samurai
Contorting herself
A blithe disregard for trees
Samurai movements
Kisses and Curses
In my bed dreaming,
dreaming about someone else,
a fictional someone else.
You sleep deeply and still.
Am I wrong to dream of another?
Another life, another lover.
In my bed awake,
awake thinking about kisses and curses,
wanting to touch you now.
Absinthe Fantasy
A fantasy,
a glimmer of wings and magic.
Did I dream, or was it a fantasy,
looking into the bathroom cupboard?
A fantasy,
a gree fairy flutters before me.
Groggy,
waking up in the bathtub naked.
A fantasy:
no, it was absinthe and the cat.
Velvet Shadows
A dark room,
the smell of roses and
breathing from the bed.
Alone and waiting,
wanting to touch;
quickening from the bed.
A touch in the dark,
the room melts away and
so do the sheets, clothes.
A play of shadows;
moonlight from the skylight,
ecstasy in the dark.
Alchemy
Walking amongst your favourite trees,
contemplating the ways of the forest, wild roses.
A softness has come to your soul recently,
so you take a moment to reflect, scheme a little.
Whispers from your Mother remind you of her,
even though she is not with you physically, whole.
A series of thoughts move your reflective mind,
so fast; you take a moment to catch up, process.
With no gesture, you turn a tree into a table,
then you turn another tree into a dishwasher, combo.
A wildness has come to the forest from the
commotion you created as you began experimenting, changing.
Wild consequences won’t be served up to
you, as you gave like for like to change the trees, a plant or two.
Another reflection leaves you startled as
a Cockatoo makes a racket, and a Koala turns from you; it’s quiet.
The Raven
No one visits,
no visitors visit
her home.
More witch than woman,
they say
something like that.
Living alone stirs rumours,
tales become more,
soon blood may flow.
A beauty, despite the time.
She refuses to brush her hair,
many curls, a bird appears.
Black eyes know the
way to and from this
world to the next.
The chimney sends smoke
puffing thick, into the
atmosphere.
Careful, the leaves
no trace of who
she once was.
Only what is needed,
she takes from her home,
the place loved so well.
Moving on, she sets her
home alight, so no one
will find what she felt.
Hearing a burning place.
The moor is hidden,
not a living soul around.
Gone before the judgement
police come knocking,
and kill her with stones.
Dragon Scales
Wise wings against the moonlight.
Movement over the land,
starlight illuminates hidden places,
and her dragon scales do bend,
as she moves within forest shadows.
2 am
Awake again at 2 am,
creating worlds and having visions.
I tell myself I should be myself,
yet there are so many
words in my mixed-up heart.
I’d rather wait for another hour
for the visions of Vikings;
then sleep and dream of terror.
C & K 