Poetry | Stories | Photography
Hair moving in the wind,
reminding me of the ocean waves.
Wild, dark hair moving, whipping and
lashing at her face, neck and body.
Ocean waves gather force,
reminding me of the storms and cyclones.
Wild eyes stare away,
lost in the ocean, seeking a lost lover.
Hair moving in the storm,
she fades into the saltwater spray.
Walking with the trees
Majestic redwoods hover
hiding their feelings
Shy at first, one starts talking
wisdom from the ancient ones
Under the Southern stars
where the moonless sky meets the desert
The fireflies dance for us
Infectious, we begin to stand up
by the warmth of the fire, we move
Dancing freely with the fireflies
Her, my dream
a dreamed-up face
hers is the face of my dreams
charcoal stacks and grime
industrial revolution chimneys
her sleeping face is calm
when she is awake, I think soot
broken by her beauty
too young for her blizzard soul
a dreamed-up face sleeps
when she wakes, who knows
A dissatisfied tree
stands on the old highway
taking many lives.
A tree of no light
feeds on the departed souls
giving nothing life.
Winter landscape deep
we sleep within dreams and love
holding on to sleep
Shells on the sand
no one around today
wave spray lingers
a feeling of love for the sea
cold waves call to me
take me and dash me asunder
small in comparison
the sea whispers unheard words to me
so I sit and listen
my former self would have walked away
I hear the words
not so difficult to hear when you listen
The shipwreck makes its way
into the shallows of the seawater.
Warm currents stir and move
her many walls and parts.
She becomes part of the sea,
as a reef forms upon her shell.
Crabs scurry, fish dart to and fro,
Coral colours dance, glow, and grow.
She sits still, waiting for her
crew’s fate, to become the sea.
Separate rooms, Separate computers
two Separate lives under one roof
Thinking Separate thoughts on this day
From Separate thoughts, I revel in naivety
Separate thoughts come together
The Separate Holy Land is peaceful, united
Separate peoples divided by their beliefs
United in a humanist daydream
We are in Separate rooms with Separate lives
Separate peoples divided and stained in blood
The misty lake in the morning,
waiting for the chill to subside.
Watching and thinking about you
Wondering where your heart
has gone; is it still with me?
Thinking back to times before
technology made communication
so easy. When written words
delivered by post meant the
difference between life and death.
Sounds are few yet soothing,
as the lake seems reluctant to
give up any of her secrets.
Thinking this must be my way,
as you deny me even a text message
while playing the heartstrings.
Moving as the mist leaves the lake
exposed to my gaze, scrutiny.
Just like me, the lake is exposed;
waiting for the heart tune to stop.
C & K 