Poetry | Stories | Photography
A dream from space,
watching the Earth from the heavens.
Insignificant in size,
wars and genocide ravage the planet.
Up here is the quiet,
a place for contemplation and dreaming.
A jolt from the cat,
the reality of humanity fills the room with
Our Sadness.
rain is now a dream
the speaker plays a rain tune
imagined feeling
dreaming of a fictional scenario
images of a socially acceptable version of myself
devouring the escapist feelings
living within a society obsessed with fame, wealth, privilege
grey hair, wrinkles, and my ideas
losing the ones who thought I was a robot, someone else
missing the signs of your love
fears dissolve into nothingness as you step towards me
forgetting society and myself
I called to you,
timid at first and then hoarse from the echoes.
I thought you had gone.
I found myself calling to you from our bedroom,
and you looked haunted.
“A dream”, I said from a dream,
“A dream without you in the nothingness of life.”
Grass moves with the wind
Granting myself peace to dream
From the train window
Her, my dream
a dreamed-up face
hers is the face of my dreams
charcoal stacks and grime
industrial revolution chimneys
her sleeping face is calm
when she is awake, I think soot
broken by her beauty
too young for her blizzard soul
a dreamed-up face sleeps
when she wakes, who knows
Winter landscape deep
we sleep within dreams and love
holding on to sleep
Dreaming again
mumbling something in his sleep
too much beer turns on the snoring
He wanders in the bush
snakes greet him too full to care
A wombat emerges, thinks twice, and retreats
A Drey seems to be the treasure he seeks
he journeys on
and wakes kissing a tree-rat
The kettle whistles
your teapot and tea leaves dance
Lid and tea cosy
Dreaming after work
immersed in a Roman Bath
Loving Yorkshire Gold
Tea tickles your thighs
milk, sugar and tea inside
Rosy amber glow
A journey filled with wonder and woe,
a dragon in a tower filled with gems and gold,
A reward for the ones who live to tell.
Alpine hills and glacial flowing rivers of blue,
cowbell cows and the odd grumpy Elf,
Someone baking bread and churning butter.
A journey to find the lock without an answer,
moving on through living romanticism,
Too much cheese and apple juice as we roll.
C & K 