Poetry | Stories | Photography
A wild wind howls,
cold and free
from your aching.
The sea is freezing,
ice boulders
sit lining the shore.
A green windswept
set of ancient
mountains far away.
The sea is so loud,
calling you
to stay the course.
You fall to the sand,
free again
on your island home.
A dark room,
the smell of roses and
breathing from the bed.
Alone and waiting,
wanting to touch;
quickening from the bed.
A touch in the dark,
the room melts away, and
so do the sheets, the clothes.
A play of shadows;
moonlight from the skylight,
ecstasy in the dark.
A sea smell drifts across the street, into my room, and I am called towards the waves.
Drifting along with my favourite thongs and my togs, off I float away.
The sea sounds sing a song of waves, boats, humans, and the thrill of another day.
Dipping a toe, then a foot, then my whole I am lost in amongst waves.
Brokenness,
bleeding from files stacked battered,
bruised and
banded together with six-minute increments.
Blossoming,
beautiful flowers blooming from outside;
bright and
benign, together they beckon and call to me.
Brokenness,
bleeding scent from the battered files,
burning and
blowing away from my desk on the wind.
Strategy on the wind
too much thinking about ideas
she imagines
the leaves on the trees
turning into chess pieces
Shapes replace the rapidly
moving leaves
falling or blowing away
So many shapes
falling and moving
Strategy on the
ground and the wind
Flying to no man’s land,
we fly along an endless road,
flying towards another place.
Fear of the world around us,
we fear what humans don’t understand;
fear of another death too soon.
Flowing water reminds us of the sea,
we fly towards our only home;
flowing seawater, a lighthouse, quiet.
Free to feel no fear,
we fly no more as we find our home;
free to be vampires once more.
Too much sun,
not enough shade.
Flowers in bloom,
too many colours.
Too much light,
not enough darkness.
Birds sing and dance,
too many songs.
Too much Summer,
not enough Winter
to take my heart,
make it cold,
feel the chill,
the Autumn feel.
A clean, pressed handkerchief
placed within the right pocket.
A suit of fine Italian wool set
quietly upon a sky-blue shirt.
A subdued set of hand-sewn
patent black leather shoes.
A freshly shaved ivory face,
lost in a clean new haircut.
A note to Esther about
love and other things.
A glimpse at what
could have been.
An open
Space.
Falling
Fast.
Free.
Trees move
and whisper with the wind.
Stars fill
the sky with light wonder.
Moonlight
soft as a caress, a whisper.
Shadows
gather and move in wonder.
Autumn,
whispers softly to the wind.
Sitting on the couch
Music plays you to sleep
Slumped on the couch
You drift towards dreams
Sleeping on the couch
Sea Water moves over you
Salty sand on the couch
You wonder where you are
C & K 