Poetry | Stories | Photography
Parchment paper lined wooden draws
the smell of vintage parcels hidden under our lingerie
Wooden smells mixed with the older smells
breathing in the scent of what we once were
Loving you with parchment paper lined wooden draws
parcels of scent and the smell of you close to me
You and I will be forever together in those draws
moving to our music
whispering kisses and parchment paper love scents
Standing outside, you start to feel the atmosphere calm you.
Life seems hopeless in this moment of turmoil and anger at small things.
You look at the garden, which could be dead.
Then you start thinking about plants that will grow soon.
They never give up, so neither will you.
Wild stormy sea
They are electricity
Rebel attitude
They are extreme
Tall Ships at sea
They are courageous
A perfumed breeze from the rose garden
brings joy to the nose and happiness to her heart.
A decadence so sensually sweet
to tempt her to taste Turkish Delight.
Red lips of beauty
move soft seductively
slow her punishing kiss
Blooms that hid under the snow
now grow brightly free for spring.
Spring knows of blooming buds;
do you remember flowers?
Blossoming buds rise again
to melt your icy bleak heart.
The way the branches long for each other,
look at how the moon hangs in the middle.
Such a pretty night, or is it a Winter’s day?
The fog-blue sky of Winter Dreams is cold.
Disturbingly filled with love by the branches,
abandoning protocol to rub against the trees.
The expanse between heaven and earth,
whispering trees tell the clouds many secrets.
Twilight shimmers off the pond water,
and poets contemplate the beauty of the sky.
Talking to the trees hoping they’ll respond,
I think of the many ways to describe you.
A chalice full of forest air
beneath Petrichor scents
Waiting for the right time
listening for what comes
Beating the forest drums
vibrations and old energy
Waking the forest dead
calling the trees, animals
One holds the chalice high
another call to the wolves
Visions of the old dead
sap runs down the trees
Above mindless human interactions,
you think of all the black and white pictures;
there is always something to remind you.
Free from the judgement of your family,
you can sit and think without anger or sorrow;
something will always be there to remind you.
Above human interaction and the love you crave,
you find a friend to tell you stories of the forest;
you long for something there to remind you.
C & K 