within the wildfires
Their hopes and dreams turned to ash
The Banksia sings
Category: Poetry
Gen X
Those days of darkness and
fingering the telephone circles.
It never occurred to us that we
would need a portable phone.
What a clash of generations,
we X’s remembering old times.
Someone said we are the bridge,
remembering the absence of AI.
We remember, so we must all die.
The Associate
Bored to frowning at the desk,
another client on call and grumbling.
Driving to work with music,
a different side to this morose frump.
The office Teams message bell,
directing all staff to go and eat cake.
The Associate walks in,
we all know that you will become like us.
Neon Lights
The neon lights of the city,
1 am feels like 8 pm.
Moving and flashing adverts,
constant stimulation.
Another coffee in the city,
time is meaningless.
Sleeping when possible,
working long hours.
Dancing to sound bites,
constantly wired.
Elastic Dreaming
the mountain in parts
elastic nature dreaming
the ocean fragments
forming, disintegrating
mountain and ocean are whole
Paper
Born of wood, I became paper
steel keys imprinting ink upon my skin
signed with ink, and read for a while
folded over once, enveloped, posted
I come with no expectations
The reader was wise and opened my folds
Briefly, my words capture his gaze
Binned with used paper, I am no more: PULP
The Oasis
Killing the Roses
Cutting them from their life force
Beautiful petals
Roses guided by design
Stems do stab the oasis
Spring Morning
blur of the morning
too much sun in my old eyes
the crisp spring winds move
Faroe Dreaming
A picture of the Faroe Islands on the screen.
Work calls you back, yet the picture leaves you with a monetary conundrum: to walk away or stay.
Wind chiselled landscapes of rugged rock, green and the ever-present sea moving in and around.
You stay for your cat, yet long for the sea.
Botanic Garden
imperfect roses
scrutiny and muffled sighs
Refund our money
C & K 