Poetry | Stories | Photography
An urbanised prodigy.
While playing the violin, his teacher said, “You need to understand nature for this piece”.
Baffled, he said, “I don’t understand”.
The teacher said, “You hold wood and shellac; you touch horse hair and resin. Is this not part of nature?
“I guess”.
The fog gathers, caressing the trees;
The trees see their reflection on the surface;
The lake’s surface is their mirror.
The mirror reveals what the trees want to see;
The fog clouds their judgement;
The lake plays games with the wise old trees.
Beyond the mist,
another world.
Here and now,
still in this place.
Viewing the scene,
distorted reflections.
Trees on the surface,
watery reflections.
Deceptively calm,
hidden from sight.
Another world waits;
the mirror ripples.
Nature’s reflection holds me
in her fragile gaze.
I reflect the bare branches
of curly messy hair.
Different colours bleed
chaos across the Earth
Mother nature decided
to take it all back
In the pandemonium
we didn’t listen
Now she will make us listen
Now we will have to hear her
Now our world will change
So that in the future
we will all have her
Rain falls from the sooty clouds
to kiss the desolation we made.
They saw the rain contemptuously,
then they cried when it fell no more.
The clouds call the rain to fall again,
but only for the love of the land.
a soft living hidden place,
far from materialistic eyes,
a silent another worldly place,
for natural reflective dreaming
C & K 