We fade with the sun
as the colours move
away into the twilight.
Fading
Stumbling
Walking without sight,
you stumble, falling so fast.
Whispers like music,
calling you to return home;
Waking in your lover’s arms.
Faded
You sit in the light
as streaks of faded colours
move into the night.
Summer Love
A pair of heavenly legs,
they moved towards a body of light;
beauty in the summer sun.
You looked at me with
eyes of flame,
challenging me to speak,
or so I thought.
Beauty on the beach
masks the truth within those eyes;
I looked past your truth.
Cold and sweet,
you were my summer girl;
never meant for Autumn or Winter.
Different Worlds
Thoughts of your world,
a hot and hazy hell;
melting, you might sigh.
I picture you over there,
sipping cold water;
cursing the burning sun.
Thoughts turn to my world,
a cold night of ice rain
with a Winter’s full moon.
I wonder if you picture me,
over here wet and cold;
dancing naked at 2:30 am.
The Remains
After many years of love the bow broke,
then the music of love stopped playing;
we began to drift apart and separate.
Littered among the remains of
the two of us
are the ashes of music instruments.
All the music we played for each other
is now burnt
to the ashes on the floor of our parting.
Bookcases
Many books spill over and out into the landscape of my home. Tumbling and falling, they cry out for attention.
They sit and sit, yet some receive nix; others, a cursory glance or an occasional flutter of my fingers.
Many books sit in a crate, ready to be loved by someone.
Lockdown Life
“It’s a lovely day.”
“So sunny and cool.”
[8 hours pass on the sofa]
“I love how we have all these amazing escapades from the couch, yet we never go outside.”
“It’s not so good for the waistline, though.”
“Yeah. Do you care?”
“Not really.”
“Feed me cheese, and-.”
Desert Music
The sound of the desert
moving in the vibrations
from many components.
Shades of nature sound
in this ancient place
to bring hidden things
towards the surface.
The sounds of music play in
the middle of nowhere
bring feelings of somewhere.
Sounds of ancient times
never lost, yet always
found,
as she plays for him.
Sculling
“Keep going! We need to get to England. My wife wants more gold.”
“Bloody hell! Helga is wild. Can’t you give her something else? Maybe if you slept with her once in a whil-“
“She gets plenty of satisfaction! Keep the scull shit going.”
“Sculling, brother.”
“Shut up!”
C & K 