Poetry | Stories | Photography
The waning fire smoulders
They gather in the distance
voices from another time
deep shapes move towards the fire
shapeshifting metamorphoses
gather strength outside the circle
waves of gooseflesh stir the spirit
light and drums beat in the distance
from the cursed forest cathedral
from chair, to keyboard, and back again
relaxation, words, music and overthinking
between the monitor and the bookcase
flowing Hiraeth for my sister and her hugs
Coffee steaming from my favourite porcelain
sitting, listening to the music of the house
You are in the other room de-stressing again
any form of procrastination will help you
I feel the weight of my possessions, my lives
dreaming, whispering words as I write
We dream in different rooms, in different ways
yet we come together despite ourselves
The forest listens for the vibrations of music;
soon, the time will pass, and she will come.
The music of her love for them starts to play;
sad faces brighten as feet touch the soil.
The dancing to honour the forest and her loves;
she spins and twirls with the Fireflies tonight.
The trees never stir as the fire burns along;
they stand tall, watching and listening.
Unconstrained freedom
the promise of my Springtime
yet Winter lingers
The pen moves to my music
I hear the sea calling me
A Sunday afternoon longing and a yearning for those fragments of what I thought I was before I took this path.
Rain droplets splatter the glass of my window, so I raise the blind to see the wind moving the unkempt grass, and I watch the droplets run down the glass.
I gather all of the friends from my dreams I have not yet met, and I hold them close to me like the ghosts of the loved ones who died.
Rain droplets continue to splatter the glass of my window, and the wind and the rain create music I often long to hear.
I revel in the quickening rain which showers the glass of my window, the increasing wind, and I wish for more of this quiet music.
within the words
pieces of you and your emotions
the tempo alters
until the resonance is unmistakable
within tugging words
pieces of me and my emotions
the music is playing
They pierce the silence
with the drums, they play
around the burning pyre
They sing a song to
give thanks to the forest
as the embers move
The drums, the song,
and the embers turning
into dancing fireflies
They create melodies
to move the forest
and awaken the spirits
Gathered around the fire
the woodsman came to tell us a story
about a wolf and a raven
The woodsman’s voice
a melodic pagan music to our small ears
delighting imagination
Too young at the time
Unaware of the woodsman’s power over us
I was plagued by dreams
of the old gods, wolves, and our destruction
The woodman’s voice
came to me when the sunset colours bled out
on an ominous night
Too loyal to my family
I stayed despite the incessant booming voice
frightening away life
Gathering up my life
running towards the sea instead of the forest
I resisted his power
and I remained the wolf, not what he wanted
Plush flowers of her bloom in her garden
Purple and indigo shades move in the air
Birds chirp and talk of Amore and kisses
Bees buzz and race to find the best buds
Swiftly dancing to a tune of uplifting sorrows
Sweetly moving in time to the sway of flowers
C & K 