Poetry | Stories | Photography
Something of the seawater flows through
the human sitting on the chair writing.
Something of sadness flows through the
seawater as your arteries unclog and flow
clean again after so many lost loved ones.
Shimmering colours of the sea move before
you, filling your empty places and making
you whole until you no longer have cracks.
More beautiful than before, you
have been touched by Kintsugi.
Flaws once a burden to you become your
beauty and set you apart from the others.
Lights play tricks on my eyes.
Tired, I see colours and shapes.
Your moon has gone from the sky,
leaving only the stars to haunt me.
I wait for your moon to return
in the silence of cold nights sleeping,
dreaming of piano keys playing a song
as we spin wildly around a Chateau
with no furniture to obstruct our moves.
The lights play tricks on my eyes.
Tired, I thought I saw you in the corner.
Silenced in the garden from all the
things they could have said yet didn’t.
A reluctance to accept his proposal left
everyone in the sunshine except for her –
she felt the jitters of no love
and
the pain of forced marriage.
Far off, where the land meets the sky, the colours
of what is correct will be waiting.
They cannot be seen by her eyes, for her vision is
clouded by the swirling feelings.
Perceptions of what is real and what is fake
flash fast before or behind her soft eyes.
A call from him jolts her into the present,
as a decision must be made or never
spoken of in hushed or screamed tones.
Looking at the place where the sky meets land,
she sees the colours that matter to her the most;
The colours of something completely different.
So she walks in the opposite direction from
the garden in haste without speaking a word.
To run is the coward’s way,
yet to fight for love requires a clean break
from this garden she loved so much as a child;
she must run so fast,
as the wind moves her onward to disappear.
Cluttered and bundled in the snow,
so still, as the effects of defeat set in.
Take from you only yesterday,
yet it’s been more than a year.
Sweet faces appear behind your eyes
to haunt your day and night dreams.
Cracks start to appear within you,
as your heart begins to break apart.
The person of all those years ended sharply,
now replaced by something very different.
Alone in the snow, you slowly rise to feel
the weight of the wild wind altering you.
Different now, you walk from the woods
back to that home, now yours for good.
Their cries won’t bring your heart back
for it has turned
to something colder than snow –
Ice.
I’m standing on the shore
toeing seashells and sand.
Sipping sweet milky tea
and remembering
Shells,
Mum,
Things.
Stormy skies seem so far away,
while the salty surface is calm.
Soft sounds of winter speak through
shy wavelets as they move closer.
Something cute breaks the surface,
many little bubbles begin to show.
Soft hues of grey, pink and blue,
they come from the dark cold.
Sunrise presents a pastel watercolour,
Showing us another day to live a life.
Photo – Thensure Yang
Memories move through my mind,
reminding me of what we used to do.
Sunday times at Lake Tinaroo,
when a paddleboat fit more than two.
A Summer’s day at Yorkeys Knob,
swimming in nets and dreaming away.
Looking at this view I remember
all the remade childhood good times.
Yet the bad dreams move away,
just like the fade of this soft short day.
Standing still
feeling the mist
as the forest breathes
in the coming of winter
Daydreams take hold playing a reel of
what could have been of my little life.
Couching and cooking won’t help my
waistline, nor stop the movies playing.
Succumbing to the reel of many fantasies,
I sit for hours unaware of the time of day.
Daydreams play themselves until the end,
yet I remain the same person I once was.
Idle, I didn’t realise holding on to a dream
could mean losing the one I love the most.
Daydreams take hold playing a reel of
what could have been of my little life.
Couching and cooking won’t help my
waistline, nor stop the movies playing.
Succumbing to the reel of many fantasies,
I sit for hours unaware of the time of day.
Daydreams play themselves until the end,
yet I remain the same person I once was.
Idle, I didn’t realise holding on to a dream
could mean losing the one I love the most.
Spring has come to your heart, yet I sit here in my Winter world wondering what you’re doing with all of those so-called, “friends”.
I love you, yet you are like a Hydrangea in bloom. Your love will last from early spring to late Autumn, yet it never sustains the Winter.
C & K 