Poetry | Stories | Photography
A voyeur from the door waiting for an empty street.
Walking alone in the crisp fog, it’s too early for coffee.
As my thoughts turn to the passing trees, Serendipity strikes as a cafe opens.
A table for one, a cappuccino and an almond croissant.
Someone walked over my grave. The corners of the room keep the shadows, and the dim light reveals moving things I wish I could not see.
I fear the sparrows outside as insects crawl beneath my skin.
I feel Mum’s embrace, remember screaming, and now I’m in a white room.
Early darkness
a chill brings on the gooseflesh
endless music
jewels from you
overflowing books in the case
scrolling down
stopping short
help me to glue all of the memories
of me and you
before we forget
what it was like to live in freedom
with our ideas
and our love
Walking through the office door
Me, out there in the swirling autumn leaves
Inside, a new mask for today
Trading nature and her beauty
for the chance to find meaning in a title
I feel the wind in my hair
Nature followed me
wind and leaves moving
Bewildered colleagues
We begin to slow in Autumn as the days shorten and the nights lengthen.
Salads turn to casseroles, and coffee turns to rum.
We find our cosy corner, a stack of books, and turn day after day into night.
When the rains come, we wear our favourite socks; we slow down.
A mighty warrior
traveller of many lands
A lover of noodles
Ramen and sake
cantankerous words and dancing
A Geisha’s fan cuts
Angered at the offence
drawing his sword
The laughter of Geishas
A 30-centimeter sword
hardly Arthurian
Perfect for cutting noodles
Too much red and yellow
blazing sun on the canvas
chunks of paint melting
The spectre of burning canvas
paint strokes are inevitable
Embers fall from the old easel
Time for the sun to appear
smouldering fire of paint and canvas
The painting comes to life
The fever intensified.
Staring into space, images of ghosts, demons, and magical creatures appear in the lounge room.
Unruffled by the images, she dances into what appears to be the corpse_fjord.
She woke up on a pile of clothes with empty bottles everywhere.
Watching the way colleagues climb the corporate ladder.
Whispers behind closed doors, muffled voices gossiping about such and such, and toxicity oozing from the walls.
Anger turned to disappointment. Disappointment turned to creativity.
The draught_of_giants hit me. With a pen on paper, I jot all the words down.
from the tropical north
snow and ice greet a stranger
no racism to be known
a calm freedom
watching the sea_thatch with new eyes
noises so foreign
to appreciate the difference
coming to love the ways of ice and snow
no longer foreign, my home
C & K 