Poetry | Stories | Photography
Walk with me,
walk by my side without judgement,
walk on the outside like Dad used to do.
Walk without the anger you always feel,
walk without scolding me in public;
I’m not perfect, and neither are you.
Walk-in tandem with me,
yet you never do.
We exist alongside each other,
unable to forget all the water
flowing under the bridge.
A glass heart breaking,
shards of brokenness scatter,
strewn mercilessly.
sunkissed dirty brown-red earth by day,
starlit luminous enchanted land by night.
casual bushes, trees, and plants bustle,
as the nightlife of the land, comes alive.
ripe creamy yellow fruits lure wombats,
possums, echidnas, and bilbies to nibble.
sweet passionberry bushes jiggle and
bounce as the animals’ stuff themselves.
You’re hiding from the daylight,
living within the shadows,
adoring the stars and the moon,
living life how you choose.
Wired into new technology,
typing your life away,
delaying reproduction,
sipping on coffee slavery.
“When we were younger
life was so much simpler”,
you hear the words again
through disappointed lips.
“Be more like X”, “Do more
of Y”, “why are you so odd?”,
“You live a strange lifestyle”,
“How did you come to this?”
In the early vanishing hours,
you play the songs you love,
write your truth in words, and
you crush their expectations.
I watered the lawn
daily never expecting
many weeds to thrive.
Some days are light,
other days are dark,
a few days are grey,
rare days are yellow.
Often we are wading through,
hoping for a better tomorrow,
dreaming about another past,
living each day, day by day.
You move through life
weathering the pain and suffering
of many little tragedies.
Misunderstood at work,
you suffer for the sake of a wage,
never to see a promotion.
Held in broad daylight,
your bag ripped from your shoulder
while people are watching;
Grandma’s heirloom was lost forever.
Walking in the afternoon,
the beautiful park full of fluffy animals,
you never had a chance;
bitten by a naughty dog off the leash.
Unfairness at your home,
never fully appreciated and adored,
you sit up into the night,
escaping into other worlds, fantasy.
When the big tragedies
begin, you wonder about the little
tragedies you suffered.
Looking back, you realise the little
tragedies prepared you for this.
Scratching at the front door,
the cold wind moves from a whisper to a wail.
Soft slippers sit side by side,
a desire to slip into my slippers and walk downstairs.
Sorrowfully waiting for the scratching to end,
you tempt me to return to you.
An old feeling,
scented potpourri bags buried in drawer corners.
Fragrant papered lilac and lemon linen cupboards,
a new feeling.
The house breathes the many
scents of the old and the new.
Another classic.
Songs playing along the road,
dying leaves moving.
C & K 