Cutting from the bush
Pot planted, fed and watered
Watching a life grow
Tag: poet
Humidity Blues
Sitting naked,
boobs fall on sticky skin.
Sipping on tea,
butt cheeks feel warm.
Spa foot bath,
tingling all the way up.
Serenity music,
opium incense cloudy.
So tranquil,
feeling fat and flabby.
Haiku: Mother & Daughter
Mother and Daughter
Checking the bud everyday
Blooming bud rapture
Taste of Tomorrow
The festive season moves on;
another year and the end of another song.
The taste of tomorrow in a mug;
a cup of coffee, milk and sugar: your drug.
It has all been done before;
right now, you require something more.
To remain the same isn’t you;
you think of flowers blooming under the blue.
You step out of your comfort zone;
no one else can walk the path, only you alone.
To the sky, you look in wonder;
it’s clear today, yet inside you hear the thunder.
The new you walking without fear;
you are alive, and well enough, fate is near, and
now you can see that your path is clear.
Haiku: Fog & Sea
Alone in the fog
Encased within a dreamscape
The sea calls me home
A Vision in Blue
Caught by your soft eyes,
those eyes tell no lies.
You fight the truth within the mirror,
Your eyes see who you are much clearer.
Caught by the way your soul cries,
Your bleeding heart slowly dies.
You fight a true love growing dearer,
the touch of a heart coming nearer.
Caught by your love for grey skies,
tear-stained soul resists, it dies.
You are near to her,
You can now hear her.
Caught by her crystal blue eyes,
A vision in blue, those eyes.
You rid yourself of all the lies,
lost forever within her eyes.
Kiss of Time
Photos of your world.
You stand in a snow-covered forest,
with a stillness not found in my summer.
In those photos, the kiss of time moves slower,
for the kiss of time moves faster in the heat of summer.
I find myself longing for the winter, yet I need the summer;
without summer, there is no winter; without spring, there is no autumn.
Without the kiss of time, there would be no time for us.
Our impermanence would be permanence.
Our beauty and wonder would never be so lovely.
Our hearts would beat something other than blood,
as we grow colder every hundred years or so.
Tanka: New Year
Another year bye.
The heat of the new year burns
into our bodies.
A becoming something new
as we look to the new year.
January Dawn
Last night we whispered, ‘Happy New Year’.
No dancing and singing; no festive food, wine, and sparklers glittering.
We sipped and read quietly at home, contemplating another year gone and looking forward to the new one to come.
Almost another year older. I feel a bit jaded, perhaps wiser, and I feel like I’ve aged, and I’m so much older.
I sit thinking about all the people I have not seen. No hugs and kisses unless they are through a screen. Friends down the road I have not seen, and a longing to do so much with so little time, sometimes I’m searching for the words to say what I mean.
The January Dawn passed us by as we slept in late. Whatever this year brings, I hope we come together, become closer, and learn to embrace love and not hate.
Life is not lived by the rich and the few. Life is lived by smallfolk: by me, you.
At times like this, I feel the pull of that longing place. The place with a door leading me to somewhere magical: a hidden world with a forest and the phenomenal. Is it my inner place?
I wanted to open that door wider for many years, yet I get closer, and I falter and think of my peers and imaginary sneers. Is my inner place calling for the two halves to meet? So separate they have been that no one knows where one-half ends and the other half meet.
For now, I sit hidden from the blistering sun. I peeked at the outside world, at the browning lawn that we must mow, which will not be much fun.
I sit here and wonder what we should do. How many more New Years’ Eves will I get to share with you?
Thoughts of Her
I think of her softly,
the way she moved and the things she said.
Even now, she moves through me,
even as the rain softly falls on the windows.
Someone said you should love,
yet I want to tell them to go fuck themselves,
for love has broken my heart into a thousand pieces.
Yet, still, I sit and think of her,
the little ways she made my day bright and happy,
how we talked about everything.
I miss her sunflower soul dearly,
for her soul calmed me through my many storms.
Me, alone with my broken heart;
I keep the sadness close to feel her.
Sitting in my seat;
on the train, her face and eyes come to me
as the rain turns into icy pieces of snow.
C & K 