Poetry | Stories | Photography
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 until late Autumn, yet it never sustains the Winter.
A quizzical glance,
ivory bosomed virgin’s perfume excites
the virile knave dressed as a knight.
With a lick of the spoon,
your toes curl.
The taste on your tongue,
your senses heighten.
The warmth down south,
the feeling builds.
With the last spoonful of Creme Brulee,
you climax and fall off the chair.
Watching the
repetitious ads,
and the
annoying jingles.
You paralyse
our minds with
the stupidity
on the screen.
Fed up, we only
watch ad-free
reality television.
Watching a show
about miniature
goats going on
celebrity dates.
A cool breeze moves through me, touches my skin, and moves me to feel the chill of the air.
I must stop for a few moments; work has become omnipresent, and nature calls me to feel.
Scents linger from outside and inside; I sniff the air in wonder and admiration for prosperity.
A dog keeps barking down the hill; I hear the illegal rooster telling everyone how annoying the chickens can be.
Rosy glasses,
the world looks
beautiful & bright.
The city lights,
dazzling opportunities
to make cash, be famous.
Beautiful,
a youth with beauty &
virginal naivety on your side.
A Fledgling,
you learn to fly through
many attempts and mistakes.
Many fell;
you remain.
“This is the cafe of feelings.”
“We buy feelings.”
“I have feelings.”
“Are you sure? Come with me…”.
“Lining up, they wait and watch the people order in front until it’s their turn.”
“I want a few dollops of sadness, happiness, and anger.”
“I’ll have the same. This’ll be fun”.
Spring is on the wind, flowers begin to bloom, and the day is new.
Walking to remember the Winter you cannot forget, walking to shed some of the much-loved Winter calories.
Passing by a new neighbour, the dog greets you with a smile and the neighbour a snarl.
Etched wooden chairs,
a French polished dining table,
ambient candle lights.
Beyond the dining room
your mind plays on your fears,
the shadows shift, move.
Petrified of the shadows,
a child too young to understand,
darkness frightened you.
Enlightened by knowledge,
you face the shadows fearlessly,
never taking a wrong step.
A touch along your neck,
terror has a name you remember,
you run out into the night.
A windless cold night,
movement within the front trees,
illogical ways of nature.
Those etched chairs,
your father died on one of those,
too long ago, father.
A whisper on the wind,
something I heard you say long ago,
“my darling daughter”.
Dressed in simple cotton robes, six gathered around the point of examination.
They hesitated. All were too afraid to touch such a foreign-looking living thing.
Braver than the others, one touched a branch a thumb. All followed, touching the last two trees.
C & K 