Poetry | Stories | Photography
Only whispers from the corner
walking towards the parure
of rubies and diamonds
the whispers become louder
Images of violence and blood
bullet holes and white lace
within an unknown forest
the images become clearer
Someone mentioned royalty
what Russia once was
until the Bolshevik uprising
someone stares at me oddly
A kitten with a paw
dancing down the old hall
running into a door
A kitten with those eyes
naughty beast in disguise
a claw for my goodbyes
My kitten has so much fun
chasing what I never spun
a shadow in the soft sun
My kitten must go explore
moving red dot near the door
always wanting me some more
Do I belong here?
Tugging at the society I live in,
the construct I built for myself
What will I become?
A box of dust to be slowly
forgotten
as the world keeps turning
Why would I?
Day to day, we see it
all so clearly, yet
humans find a way
to hurt each other
Yes, there is light in the
dark places, yet the
darkness creeps closer
Why go on?
The sound of music tells
me to keep listening,
The desire to treat life
as a gift pushes me forward,
and your love for me
Your love is sunflowers
and
fresh Turkish Delight
A cage of your own making
jumbled maddening sounds
dancing up a storm of anger
Inaccessible to the ones you love
banging and blaming
yourself against every single wall
Tear-stained mascara tracks
dripping on
your cheeks, neck, breasts
Tearing at the wallpaper
no hidden text of hope
nor any buried treasure
A victim's marks blotch
your arms, back, and face
You know it was not your fault,
yet you blame
and blame and blame yourself.
A mess of limbs, hair and wild eyes
you look to the ceiling, the record
stops, and the rain begins to fall
You let all the shit go.
A broken canvas
hurling gemstones
piercing the painting
Contemporary dancing
wildly moving inspiration
the wall and canvas collide
A dull one dimensional easel
the inspiration river flows outside
A broken canvas and broken gems
The artwork reveals itself.
Whoever stands there,
whatever they say,
they are moments in time.
Whoever stands up,
whatever they said,
we remember their words
Whoever has died,
whatever they do,
we feel their anguish
Whoever idly watches,
whenever atrocities occur,
we turn away from them
Ivory and Rose
a soft complexion
Bathed in sunlight
warm Ivory and Dusty Rose
Lovely almond eyes
hide unexplored longings
Love moves on the wind
flowers release the scent of summer
To be your only love
scented and waiting for you to arrive
A hesitation sees you turning away
courage to speak the words
You stop, freeze and turn around
a look is enough
for me to know
Your love for me is now enough
Shadows deepen
Sun flows through the windows
Unable to touch so much
Carpet burnt by the sun in places
If there are ghosts, they are laughing
they’ve seen so many hearts before
The folly of the footsteps lingers
We repeat the customs in different bodies
Death and life take on a cog-like view
Passed down from stone to stone
No women at the helm until now
Wasted spaces on ancient customs
Looks of wonder, some anger
The carpet remains for now
Tattered and dingy in the stuffy places
Cranky vacuums inflict various opinions
Sworn enemies in love for so long
Shadows deepen in the room
A tree from outside wants to sit for tea
Birds flee from the windows
The final curtain closes on another life
Dead flowers litter tables
We will keep them on the stem again
Dad would have been sad
Another set of footsteps lost
A black and white room
Classical glam with a twist
Envious longing
Colours of your ombre hair
Mix with your blood on the floor
Etched wooden chairs,
a French polished dining table,
ambient candle lights.
Beyond the dining room
your mind plays on your fears,
the shadows shift, move.
Petrified of the shadows,
a child too young to understand,
darkness frightened you.
Enlightened by knowledge,
you face the shadows fearlessly,
never taking a wrong step.
A touch along your neck,
terror has a name you remember,
you run out into the night.
A windless cold night,
movement within the front trees,
illogical ways of nature.
Those etched chairs,
your father died on one of those,
too long ago, father.
A whisper on the wind,
something I heard you say long ago,
“my darling daughter”.
C & K 