Poetry | Stories | Photography
fiery anarchist notions
a burning desire for change
new knees, strong bones
a youthful zeal for living life
feeling democracy fade
a candle, once a flame, burns
falling away from work
old knees, weak bones, tired
forgetting in the end
memories of what mattered
falling into the grave
She left the laundry on the clothesline until 9 pm, giving herself an excuse to go outside and look up at the moon.
Standing there watching the sky.
The moon appears among clouds like the moon from her memory, evoking feelings of a new beginning or ending.
The mountains held my gaze
They called me about premonitions
things seen too often repeating
A vision of a sleeping dragon
watching and waiting for the time to arrive
A country waiting for the time
The dream doesn’t fade away
It haunts me as I move through the day
There’s an idiom about you;
you clutching at old words.
Wondering about you again;
again I make haste slowly.
Frightened by the night sky;
sky dreams telling me lies.
Waiting for your love again;
again you’ll choose to hide.
Ages of sorrow and happiness within
this ancient place of stone and metal.
Standing in a wistful frame of mind
as the feelings move through my heart.
Some metal bars are for protection,
while others imprison the body.
Some metal bars imprison our mind;
wisdom can be found in odd places.
A voyage upon
self-explorative waters
to find new wings.
Self-rewarding has gone
to be replaced by
a sense of spiritual calm.
We all live
in many states of
becoming fragile.
On a day
like any other day,
we venture into the sun.
Her gardens,
they live well,
for they know the seasons.
Money bears
lost in our ways
as we trample the land.
Then,
a Willy Wag Tail dances for us,
and we are different.
Roses of messy curly hair bloom like you
as they move and flop in the wind in full bloom.
Pink roses remind me of you at home with me alone
with messy hair so wild and curly,
rust stained skin,
and blooming rosy pink cheeks;
moving through life in such a beautiful way.
sky twilight colours
unknown feelings start to come
colours change again
there will be no more warm sun
for the moonlit night has come
O’er the mountain and into the sea,
we will meet again just you wait and see.
O’er the hills and down into the lake,
we will meet again and memories we’ll make.
O’er my heart and into your love,
I’ll see you again, my sweet dove.
C & K 