The Scent of Jasmine,
sweet, delicate Gardenia;
falling springtime snow.
Tag: blog
Sea of Starlight
In the middle of burnt dirt
with the odd Mulga
lookin’ like unbrushed hair.
We don’t dare fan the flames
of the dead ones
out here in this no law land.
In burning heat, we suffer
through thoughts
muddled into dirt and sky.
We wish for cold grey skies
with kept trees
lookin’ like English Butlers.
In the outback, we wonder
about the dead
as the daylight turns to night.
We stand sipping hot water
with muddled
feelings about this old land.
Outside we look towards the
sea of starlight
in this dark open landscape.
We remove all traces of the
spaces between
us as we finally understand.
One With the Seat
Your fancy porcelain throne
has stood the test of time.
A safe haven from your nagging love,
where a zen calm resets your soul.
You sit upon the throne looking at memes
and giggling uncontrollably.
A knock at the door shatters your zen
calm, and you look startled.
Your love peeks in to remind you there’s
a boring lunch on soon.
You say something pleasant, and the eye
rolling from your love begins.
The door doesn’t close properly, and the
zen moment has passed.
You let the trumpet play a wild tune, then give
your sweet porcelain pot a pat.
The thought of being one with the seat again
makes you smile.
You and I
A cobalt blue sky.
You with black-rimmed glasses bitching about my grey-rimmed glasses.
The heat intensifies a longing for romantic love once felt long ago.
The sky shifts.
Then the clouds appear in a rush to make rain before too long.
The sunder coloured sky,
just like you and I.
Wild Southern Winds
The wild winds from across the hills whip up
a number of feelings in this winter of ours.
We feel the ice from across the southern sea
flow up through us and change us again.
Still, the wild winds won’t change the hearts
of the many who will never understand.
They remain still and translucent to our eyes,
as they never realise their full potential.
Bud to Rose
a little bud set to bloom,
hidden away from the sunny day.
a stem reaching for the sky,
to be seen and to see the sunny day.
a little bud begins to bloom,
to be touched by the warm sunny day.
a stem holding a rose to the sky,
no longer hidden from the sunny day.
Music of the Sea
The music of the sea,
I hear you play for me.
The music of the sea,
You help me to be me.
The music of the sea,
I become so very free.
The music of the sea,
You helped me to see.
Am I enough?
Your grace, your charm, your wit;
I don’t like you, yet we fit, we knit.
Life’s so good, so gold, so golden;
I don’t see the glimmer: I’m olden.
I’m rough, I’m buff, I’m so tough;
You seem to like me: am I enough?
The Passing of Emma…
Your fluffy face comes to me, and I think of the way you pawed my face, a meow, or sleeping beside Daddy.
On the saddest of days, I look at a cloud shaped like your ears with tears of sadness for you, my sweet girl, for you were my Emma, and now you are gone.
Storyteller
“The stories she told! I don’t see ‘er so well now, yet she’s in my heart still telling stories.”
“She must have been an interesting woman.”
“My Lasse, she was no woman unless women are made of water and shells. No, she’s the sea! The sea is the best storyteller.”
C & K 