Full of something light,
she dances away,
through the night,
floating into the sea.
Category: sea
The Colours
There’s a way with the clouds today. As night approaches, the sky paints with the hues of grey, white, blues and pinks.
Anna never gets used to the sky colours, for those colours make her feel old and new things, dark and light things.
The sea is out over the cliffs. Tonight it’s still, which is an odd feeling. Although cool, there’s this mist hovering. “How peculiar”, Anna thinks, “It’s probably nothing.“
Walking into the house sends a strange chill down her spine. Something’s changed, but not for the better. The light doesn’t help.
Anna mutters in reassurance to only herself, “I’m not scared. It’s nothing. No one can hurt me now. Not now…“
The rattling begins soft, then gets louder. It’s as if the house has taken on a life of its own.
Anna screams inwardly, for the words no longer escape her lips. Terror grips her heart and then crushes her lungs.
Struggling through, she sees three ladies standing before her in a 1920’s dress. Their faces sneer and laugh as they pull her forward. The rattling starts again, they laugh at her, the rattling comes in louder waves, they smash her head against the wall and the rattling echoes.
Anna asks, “Where am I now?“
In unison, the ladies playfully answer, “You’re with us now whether you like it or not.“
Light and Shadow
sounds from far away,
yet nearer than first thought
come to you in shoal dreams.
swimming with sharks,
yet feeling no fear for they are not
interested in your ethereal shadows.
sirens singing from far away,
yet their befallen sorrow songs do
not sway your mind for you
are
light
and
shadow.
Two Humans
Your chest hurts after the two of you fight, and you feel wretched at the hurt he anchors to the shore again.
You want to be understood, but the way you say your words and your overthinking mind get in the way betraying who you are.
You’re hurting so intensely that your chest aches, your blood boils, and you feel the weight of it all.
His anchor won’t remain in the sea for very long, so don’t throw yourself into the deep waters of emotion;
there’s no need to lose yourself.
It’s only another fight.
You are both humans.
Soon you’ll both return
to your journey on
the sea of your lives.
Haiku: Summer Coast
the shore calls again
sea sounds sing a song of hope
off the summer coast
Rosary Beads
You know you’re fucking it all down to the ground with your vacant looks and your fish-faced stare.
Then you spoke! I was someone else for a moment engaged in gossiping like a groupie infested with a lust for fame and shiny gold plated bling.
What became of my intellectual underpinnings, a desire for books to enclose around me, and that rebel we-don’t-understand vibe?
Is it I who was mistaken when I judged you too soon? Are filled lips just as tasty as regular lips? Are vacant looks filled with more sorrow than The Picture of Dorian Gray?
I’m bleeding philosophical perspiration from my pores; it flows down into the stormwater drains and out to the sea. I’m perspiring Aristotle, Foucault, Nietzsche and more. I’m infecting the sea with philosophy.
Should I worry that the rich people with yachts will touch the water I infect and find Bitcoin boring?
Will they walk in a different direction or put down their Versace cushions to move about, looking at the sky and the sea as they mutter eccentrically?
Would people think they were being touched by an angel or melt at the thought of the Devil?
Standing and speaking to this rather fashionable Nun, I cannot say a word for a moment as her words creep over me.
She holds the rosary beads up to my height, and I feel that childhood pew. My knees suffered on that wood for sins I hadn’t even committed.
Then she said, “You’re a wicked one the way you think too much; The Devil will get you in the end.“
Miss Nun jolted me out of my musings and back to the dark. Without warning, words escaped my lips as I walked away, “If you see the Pope, you can tell him I want a refund for all those Rosary Beads I had to buy as a kid. They didn’t work…“
Fresh
The air is fresh upon her heart;
the sea feels cool today.
She’s looking out and back again,
as the world is different.
The air is full of silent screams;
the sea hears them well.
She’s horror-struck at the sound,
as death is so close now.
Cliff Stories
The cliffs tell stories to the sea from the waterfalls, which cascade down in stages.
The sea finds the cliff’s stories amusing and interesting, for the cliffs are always so melodramatic and ironic.
Sometimes, though, a story touches the sea; She becomes wild and weird.
Sea Plug
in the bathtub
a view of the world
green trees dance
the world is alive
then the world spins
out of time again
images of you and me
the moments of us
lapping sea
within I sit
until I find
the plug
pull it loose
the sea moves away
I sit here
There’s nothing to say
C & K 