I move along the memory lines –
A rosy filter fills me with nostalgia.
Those days before technology –
watching movies with the parents,
and listening to cassette tapes.
I move above the memory lines –
all the filters fall away to reveal
Brown.
Tag: poetry
Home Sick
The gloaming fades slow
into the cloudy darkness
where there are no stars
The whispering night
scintilla of loneliness
too far from our home
Our Sadness
A dream from space,
watching the Earth from the heavens.
Insignificant in size,
wars and genocide ravage the planet.
Up here is the quiet,
a place for contemplation and dreaming.
A jolt from the cat,
the reality of humanity fills the room with
Our Sadness.
AI
The sky is full of AI,
you cannot remember the sun and the sky.
A collection of before,
all is regurgitated into the producer of myth.
For a moment longer,
my mind strays to a sunset of fading colours.
And, the remembering –
our suffering compounded within the absence.
Moon, They Appear
eyes to the starscape
stardust falls on my glasses
the moon, they appear
Words
enigmatic tree
a rustle of lush green leaves
the forbidden words
Parallel Lives
To live within parallel lives.
Working diligently to find a title for a discontinued road
and
thinking about writing poetry about spatulas and kettles.
Autumn?
Autumn leaves moving
into the river vortex
Losing the Autumn
Before
Within us.
The people of that day said,
“It’s a Primordial urge that will not cease“.
We fled.
Who we were and what we knew was gone
as they round up the masses.
Whispers.
The wind whispers of what we once were
before the madness took hold.
Wooden Miniatures
Within this structure,
he tinkers with tools and gadgets
away from the world.
Unbeknownst to his sweet wife,
he conjures magic in
the shed that was built for him.
He places wooden miniatures
around the house,
so they come to life at night.
C & K 