Poetry | Stories | Photography
moving through
the smoggy air
feeling weak
everyone stares
following the line
metal tins move
feeling tense
no one cares
missed the stop
she continues on
feeling wild
her mind flares
the sea arrives
she runs to her
feeling love
the sea cares
fresh beauty;
not manufactured tar souled chic.
free to wander;
cellulite and potholes add charm.
flowing grace;
supple hips and sharp-witted lips.
The sea calls to the wind,
the wind calls to the sun,
the sun calls to the moon,
the moon calls to Winter,
and
the land begins to darken.
The last rose of Autumn
begins to take flight.
Petals ride on the wind,
for there is no sun;
only the moon and Winter.
ambient light
from your love
brings my heart to life
over the hills
and through the valley
down into the river
and through to the sea
I stand thinking about you
you who inhabits my bird nest of a heart
A heart that only nests one bird; you
from the blue,
grey tears fall down;
down, on to straightforward skin
sweetest agony must be endured;
endured, for uncomplicated love
The cliffs tell stories to the sea from the waterfalls, which cascade down in stages.
The sea finds the cliff’s stories amusing and interesting, for the cliffs are always so melodramatic and ironic.
Sometimes, though, a story touches the sea; She becomes wild and weird.
distant heart
beating slow
moving further
growing colder
frozen still
within you
they see
your integrity
steadfastly poised,
unwaveringly composed
devious thoughts
plotting a way
to obtain love
through cuisine
C & K 