Poetry | Stories | Photography
Quiet dimly lit highways;
country roads overlook cows, sheep, powerlines.
Over the hills, an ocean of blue;
cold seawater foaming, spraying the shore.
Quitting the house, taking a midnight journey
through our memories;
we drive along those roads free as two birds.
No thoughts of lockdown, or a killer virus;
just wishfully thinking that we could live forever.
No one visits;
no visitors visit
her home.
More a witch than a woman,
or they say something
like that in hushed tones.
Living alone stirs rumours,
tales become more and
soon blood may flow.
A beauty despite the time.
She refuses to brush her hair,
many curls, a bird appears.
Black eyes know the
way to and from this
world to the next.
The chimney sends smoke
puffing thick into the
atmosphere.
Careful, she leaves
no trace of who
she once was.
Only what is needed,
she takes from her home,
the place loved so well.
Moving on, she sets her
home alight, so no one
will find what she felt.
Hearing her home burning;
the moor hides and
not a living soul is around.
Gone before the judgement
police come knocking,
and kill her with stones.
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.
To sit, watching the sky change
from blue, grey, sunflower yellow,
slowly changing
to pink, indigo and darker colours.
To wonder, thinking of your love,
the tempo of your heart,
constant, changing,
from blue and green to indigo and black.
To love, without fear of tongues
moving like the wind,
lashing love,
moving until seeds grow darker.
To think, after nineteen years
your heart, my heart,
they feel the same,
they love in many colours and shades.
To feel, physical movements,
mystical movements,
as our trunks, branches,
leaves intertwine until the light fades.
Walking towards a destination,
stepping on the concrete jungle.
The last light is moving into the night
as the moon rises into the sky;
an orb so big and bright, so alive.
Silver spoons handed never to you,
yet the thought of only one would’ve helped;
a favour to help you walk the chosen path.
Noises, emotions, a convoluted mess;
you drown it all out with your world: music.
Turning the corner, it’s only you and the moon.
You share a moment before the darkness closes in,
and the dreams you cannot grasp,
seem too vivid and bright.
Yesterday’s hearts weigh heavy
on the years lived in the past.
Time does not wait for hearts to be ready;
hearts must be ready and waiting for all time.
Couch surfing alone. The house is cooking.
The night is cold, clear, calm, and crystallising.
A meow from the laundry tells her the cat
wants food, or else she will be the next meal.
Crashing and banging in the laundry as bowls,
teaspoons, detergent, all of it gets a workout.
The cat sits starring at the strange figure,
wondering why food is so difficult to provide.
Friends again after the feeding, yet she feels
peckish for insomnia and jam are no strangers.
She sits on the fence, mulling over a decision,
until the desire for sweetness outweighs reason.
Winter winds blow across the backyard.
A bunny bounces, so we take a photo.
Sunsets mock us, so we take an inside photo.
They say lockdown is like running in circles, but we’re not running anywhere.
We’re waiting for the next parcel to be delivered, and eating cake.
He dreamed in colour.
Dancing with her made his heart beat faster, as they twirled in unattainable opulence.
The colours swirled around the room, as he felt a devotion to her.
She changed. The face of love turned to hate; she was pulling away.
He woke drenched, then remembered his wife loved someone else.
Feeling the forest closing in,
Snowflakes fall on my face.
A wolf calls to say, “Let’s play”;
A bear hidden snores loudly.
Feeling the pull of energy,
being pulled towards her.
The pull of the Winter moon,
her energy overpowers my will;
moving towards a new chapter.
Hair ready to take flight
as you
strut your balloon skirt.
Feeling ready to break
the floor, yet loathing
whispers freeze you.
A Jizzy Jammer pops a pill,
so you decide that’s for you,
as you slam down courage.
Now you’re online and out there
collapsing the dance floor;
deconstructing dance moves,
freaking out the conservatives.
C & K 