Poetry | Stories | Photography
Flying to no man’s land,
we fly along an endless road,
flying towards another place.
Fear of the world around us,
we fear what humans don’t understand;
fear of another death too soon.
Flowing water reminds us of the sea,
we fly towards our only home;
flowing seawater, a lighthouse, quiet.
Free to feel to no fear,
we fly no more as our home is found;
free to be vampires once more.
Too much sun,
not enough shade.
Flowers in bloom,
too many colours.
Too much light,
not enough darkness.
Birds sing and dance,
too many songs.
Too much Summer,
not enough Winter
to take my heart,
make it cold,
feel the chill,
the Autumn feel.
Alone from afar
A voice like a reminder
A song from afar
We are lost,
roaming in a vast sea.
We are lost,
running from our dreams.
We are lost,
regretting words never said.
We are found,
raising a glass to fate.
We are found,
releasing unwanted feelings.
We are found,
realising love never fails.
One becomes Two,
Two becomes Four,
Four becomes Six,
Six becomes Eight;
So on and so forth, they came
and they multiplied: uninvited.
One foot in front of the other;
feet walking
faster and faster in the fog.
So long ago youth seemed,
it may have been a dream;
panting and gasping for air.
A clean, pressed handkerchief
placed within the right pocket.
A suit of fine Italian wool set
quietly upon a sky-blue shirt.
A subdued set of hand-sewn
patent black leather shoes.
A freshly shaved ivory face,
below a clean new haircut.
A note to Esther about
love and other things.
A glimpse at what
could have been.
An open
Space.
Falling
Fast.
Free.
Trees move
and whisper with the wind.
Stars fill
the sky with light wonder.
Moonlight
soft as a caress, a whisper.
Shadows
gather and move in wonder.
Autumn,
whispers softly to the wind.
Sitting on the couch
Music plays you to sleep
Slumped on the couch
You drift towards dreams
Sleeping on the couch
Sea Water moves over you
Salty sand on the couch
You wonder where you are
Swooping down,
no covering tonight
A creature descends,
perched mercilessly
Waiting for the one
with beetroot blood
Delicious sweetness,
a hint of pineapple
A human burger
with the lot
Footsteps on the stairs,
a reminder of what was to come.
Remembering times with the one you loved,
love, live with and love
as a ghost.
Feeling the warmth from
a favourite spot now your spot.
Rewinding, repeating, replaying memories
of the way she moved, the shape of her, her
warm breath on your neck.
