Poetry | Stories | Photography
Wind from the hills moves down,
moving across fields of colour.
Waves of the sea move through
the spring blossoming flowers –
moving, swaying, blooming.
A melody plays in the wind,
a song from the many birds.
Whispers of so many scents
dance in a poem on the wind –
melody, music, movement.
In the early light,
as the trees move so slowly,
we sit still and tight.
From a black and white world, you showed me there are colours.
You opened the door to another world. A world no longer black and white.
Now that you’ve touched me with your colours, I will never see the world the same way again.
Photo – Kristie Bonnewell
The black heart of summer moves in the sun,
the light soul of winter moves in the snow;
white hands of lily move in the rain,
dark feet of onyx move in the mist.
Black and white,
light and dark;
all the same
under the sky.
Rain falls from the sooty clouds
to kiss the desolation we made.
They saw the rain contemptuously,
then they cried when it fell no more.
The clouds call the rain to fall again,
but only for the love of the land.
in the autumn wind
fluffy pink flowers blossom
from hidden places
a soft living hidden place,
far from materialistic eyes,
a silent another worldly place,
for natural reflective dreaming
She sits by the water.
The river moves by as fish take a peek now and then.
“Do they know my broken heart?” she wonders as nature’s carpet touches her feet.
A clumsy fish wiggles toward her then retreats.
A teardrop falls into the river.
The fish swims away.
complex blues moving
as we contemplate beauty
under the blue sky
She challenges me to
climb her walls and
touch her many places.
I could spend a lifetime
moving and feeling
my way through her soul.
Her wild beauty keeps me
still, as I contemplate
the part of her wild whole.
She is the land, the oceans
and the sky, yet I am
the lover of this part of her.
C & K 