Poetry | Stories | Photography
Rain falls,
a springtime chill.
The hills green,
your heart is happy.
The sea tells no
lies; you miss her.
Yet the hills feel
the rise and fall
of the winds that
touched the sea.
The rain, just like
the sea shows
reflected truths;
you only need
to look and listen.
December arrives.
Spring isn’t letting go,
as Autumn intervenes.
Version 1
Like the sun,
you bloom spring colours.
Attentive,
you behave like the snow.
I cannot decide
if you are the
sun or the moon.
I like to think
you are both
the sun and the snow;
beautifully complete.
Version 2
Like the sun,
you bloom spring colours.
Attentive,
you behave like the snow.
Like the moon,
you mesmerise, lighten.
I cannot decide
if you are the
moon or the sun.
You are many.
Sun and snow,
moon and sun,
winter and summer,
autumn and spring.
Notes
I thought I would show you multiple versions of a similar poem, as this is often the creative process I go through to get to a final version.
I’m interested to know which one you like better.
Warm caramel fudge cools
in the Sunny Spring kitchen.
Night has come, foreboding;
a buzz of something in the air.
The cats get the Zoomies
then the birds start their chatter
as the trees become loud.
The porch chair waits for me
so I sit for a while and look
skyward for signs of life,
I see the clouds move in.
An intensification of feelings
as the first rumble shakes
the atmosphere into action.
Another tenor rumbling,
then a flash of light;
the sky is dancing wildly.
I cannot pull away from
the sight, even as you
speak of the dangers.
Droplets drum the roof;
now the porch is alive with water.
I reach out to touch the heavens;
you don’t say a word.
Spring has come to your heart, yet I sit here in my Winter world wondering what you’re doing with all of those so-called, “friends”.
I love you, yet you are like a Hydrangea in bloom. Your love will last from early spring to late Autumn, yet it never sustains the Winter.
Wind from the hills moves down,
moving across fields of colour.
Waves of the sea move through
the spring blossoming flowers –
moving, swaying, blooming.
A melody plays in the wind,
a song from the many birds.
Whispers of so many scents
dance in a poem on the wind –
melody, music, movement.
Bursting flowers
Moving in waves across the field
Colours of blossoming spring dance
Sunshine is brighter than the light
The summer and the winter will pass,
as the good and the bad will pass.
Be like the many flowers in spring
or the colourful trees in autumn.
Wear hope like a cashmere scarf
around your neck to remind you that
we will all return to mossy mud.
Then live your life.
There is something gentle
and uplifting about a yellow
rose in the spring.
It blooms, even
from within a cage.
The roses in this caged garden
remind me that beauty can be
found from within a prison, even
if that prison is within one’s mind.
skipping along
singing a song
thinking of blue
sunlight and you
a gentle meadow
wild winds bellow
sweets and light
dancing all night
C & K 