80’s Tragic

Hair ready to take flight
as you
strut your balloon skirt but.

Feeling ready to break
the floor, yet loathing
whispers freeze you.

A Jizzy Jammer pops a pill,
so you decide that’s for you,
as you slam down courage.

Now you’re online and out there
collapsing the dance floor;
deconstructing dance moves,
freaking out the conservatives.

Tea Cosy Revolution

I own this book, which is my inspiration for this poem.

Humans.
Once creative, free dreaming,
imagining, laughing, living,
being weird, looking at sheds.

The Palette of humanity was full of colours;
some beautiful and cashed up,
others odd and different, many dark and awful.

The Palette of Colours was the make-up
of human beings and their emotions.
The who they were, not just clinical notions.

Now humans hold an empty Palette devoid of colours.
There is only black and white;
Humans don’t even know how to find the grey.

When a number discovered a Tea Cosy,
no one knew what it was.
They didn’t understand the colours,
yet they were moved, and something changed.

The Tea Cosy was taken and studied in secret;
So began the filling of the human Palette with colours,
and the Great Tea Cosy Revolution.

North Star

A snow-covered forest full of silent trees,
listening to the sounds of unseen things.

A desire for quiet in the deafening silence,
as lockdown takes its toll on the mind, body.

A snow-covered forest on a clear night,
wandering alone in search of wolves, bears;
searching for yourself in the quiet night.

A sense of constrained longing for travel,
as dreams of places take your mind away.

A snow-covered forest with your wolves,
sleeping on the forest floor dreaming;
connecting with the forest and the spirits.

A sense of peace fills you with new energy,
as you reconnect with the seen and unseen.

A snow-covered forest with your soul-mate,
walking in the snow together without words;
looking at the North Star and the soft lights.

Thunder

Warm caramel fudge cools
in the Sunny Spring kitchen.

Night has come, foreboding;
a buzz of something in the air.

The cats get the Zoomies
then the birds start their chatter
as the trees become loud.

The porch chair waits for me
so I sit for a while and look
skyward for signs of life,
I see the clouds move in.

An intensification of feelings
as the first rumble shakes
the atmosphere into action.

Another tenor rumbling,
then a flash of light;
the sky is dancing wildly.

I cannot pull away from
the sight, even as you
speak of the dangers.

Droplets drum the roof
then the porch is alive with water.
I reach out to touch the heavens;
you don’t say a word.