Poetry | Stories | Photography
A quiet gallery
No need for words in this space
the photographs fill the silence
Taken away
Feeling the anemoia pulling me
watching a scene from the past
Loud thoughts
My thoughts are louder than bombs
thundering through my experience
entering as one person,
exiting as another
evolution in the gallery
The kettle whistles
your teapot and tea leaves dance
Lid and tea cosy
Dreaming after work
immersed in a Roman Bath
Loving Yorkshire Gold
Tea tickles your thighs
milk, sugar and tea inside
Rosy amber glow
Lightening strikes the old tree;
alone in what once was a forest.
Our lives changed forever that day;
a displaced people, a genocide.
When the wolf arrived, we listened;
we respect the power of the bears.
The settlers didn’t believe our stories;
finery and position were what mattered.
The blood-soaked soil grows corn;
burning fertile fields from a dying planet.
A stirring tail
embers from your yawn
watching me
My soft curls
woolly coat smouldering
overheating
Swept up by your tail
warming you
moisturising your back
We fly towards adventure
a special seat
the dragon and the goat
Elusive and beautiful
walking away, always walking away
to somewhere distant
A willing receiver of
her witchcraft and the many spells she
casts unwittingly
Touching dewy skin,
forever locked within her jet-pack embrace,
dreaming up a fiction
again
I remember the way she moved
Blueberry stained lips
Warm fruit-flavoured skin
A flash of skin on high
Sitting authentically in the sun
Feeling things I could not fathom
Filling me with meadow hopes
Twinkling in the sun and the grey
I remember her on a carefree day
There’s too much of me,
occupying too much space
The bus seat feels small
watching the warm waves
a welling within, wet eyes
moonstruck by the waves
port1220 on DeviantArt
In unison
standing to look towards the sky
to see rain
Unknown
to the test subjects, the rain falls
on concrete
Unable to
understand the emotional significance
they watch
Until their master calls them to stop
watching
the way the rain falls on the concrete
In unison
the robots move towards their positions
until one
turns to look at the rain for one last time
the wave of those elegant hands
I smelt the poignant perfume before I saw her
flashes of green nails haunt me
C & K 