Howling through the houses,
insect music plays us a song.
The windows rattle and shake,
fluff balls whoosh from hiding.
The clouds move undecidedly,
sun, grey, sun, grey, sun, grey.
We have a lazy mixed-up day,
undecided about what to do.
Category: Poetry
Stormy Sea Longing
Insufferable
Longing for the stormy sea
Green hills surround me
Be My
Touch my cold parts
warm my refrigerated heart
Take me on a journey
flam throw me with your love
Touch my aged skin
be my fire in the winter dark
Sea-Swept Soul
Saltwater soaked skin
Sand and shells in between my toes
Sea-swept hair lightened by the sun
Saltwater soaked soul
Anti-Work
Take me from this place
where work is all-consuming
sleeping until noon
In a Foreign Land
In a foreign land
we look around with the west in our eyes
the east in our minds
the north in our hearts and
the south in our ears.
So many directions
our vision is clouded
our minds sharp
our hearts with the old gods and
our ears listen to the sea.
Apple Harvest
Emmentaler cubes
Rustic tables, cedar chairs
Fresh, clear apple juice
Laughter and the sound of love,
a merry apple harvest
Young
To be young is less
than admirable to the
grumpy old cretins
Muse
Other people have a great beauty to adore or a muse of flesh and blood.
Yet when she sits and writes poetry, such inspiration does not come from the beauty of the flesh.
Instead, she sits with pots and pans, touching, rubbing and feeling them.
The kitchen is her muse.
Cool Against the Skin
A faint whisper
from a long summer.
A dark blanket
from a cold winter.
By the sea,
By the hills,
By both, we
feel cool
against
the skin.
C & K 