Poetry | Stories | Photography
Between strands of my hair,
the image of an idyllic grey-green scene
A picture of you on the wall
the coming of rain, wind and crackling fire
Images flicker behind my eyes,
you are out there in the world without me
No protection from a calamity
you will be well, yet come home soon, love.
The medium holds the moment,
a flickering flame,
drama and a crystal ball of glass.
Unable to communicate with people,
let alone spirits,
the dramatic tension increases tenfold.
Her eyes go wide as the spirit arrives,
bewildered and scared,
she holds her breath and counts to one.
The arrival and departure melt into one,
the gathering was horrified,
looking at the body that was once alive.
A cappuccino with one sugar
sits on the sitting table beside the chair
waiting for lips to touch froth.
the forest cathedral around the house
moves and blows in the wild rain
and the wind tells all of her stories today.
A favourite blanket covers the old chair,
which sits near the logs on the fire
and warms clammy, squishy old buns.
The communion of two begins with a sip,
then continues until the sorrows
start to leave the witch's sweet light heart.
A joyful countenance
walking amongst the fairy tale snow-touched trees
A distant bird sings
a song to a plump bird singing and waiting for preening
A stillness overcomes
looking back to see footprints in the powdered snow
All the world is still
doom and gloom left at the door to appreciate nature
The house greets us with fragrant smells
of citrus tarts, homemade lemonade,
and images of a long, familiar kitchen we love.
Stepping into the home from our childhood
we each process the way we feel
about the good and the bad memories made.
A nostalgia for idealised memories saturates
the memories we wish to deny
as Mum brings the teapot to the old cedar table.
The croissant moon hides
behind faithful clouds
to have some alone time
The sturdy main oak branch
is a place to contemplate
our existence and the trials
The croissant moon is tired
form being consistent
so I will wait to see her again
Stilettos move the silence
a graceful chiffon wave lingers
red lipstick and long lashes
An apparition of 80’s beauty
Valentino vibes linger in the dark
She turns towards nothing
Unable to resist, moving towards her
the distance between us
A chasm one would dare not to breach
Wine bottle red lips and long pencil legs
falling into another dream
The apparition fades, and I am hot, alone
Death 2433 puts on another mask
to hide the truth from the living
and to remain hidden from the glass
A lonely road well travelled awaits
for the Collective Deaths have a
strict and gruelling work schedule
Freshly cleaned and pressed gowns
the ceremonial garb is in place
and it is time to hit the Death Roads
The humidity
skin suffocating and drenched
hiding from the sun
Summer sun turns into storms
Words and books become her fan
Tepid winds of change
life-sized vacuum cleaner
the last of the heat
Autumn brings her mixed feelings
Hidden from the light, birds, life
The dying flowers
frost darkness leaves brown patches
smelling the crisp scents
emerging from the cocoon
dancing and talking to moss
Ruins of the mines
Visions of Copper and Tin
A vanishing land
Sever unknown memories
Words and songs remain unsung
C & K 