looking out
a heart’s desire
cobbled streets
romance once set in
the visible sea
no sign of the ship
waiting for x to come home
the cut-out walls
clean glass for a short time
amorous longings
silence louder than a bomb
a heart lost at sea
impossible to cage freedom
all the more exciting
when x brings the sea home
Tag: poetry
A Summer Coat
I work from home alone.
I raise my eyes to the window,
and
look out towards the hills, cows.
Magpies snap up worms from our lawn.
At lunch, I stand in thongs and a coat,
watching everything between heaven and Earth.
The wind wails of Winter, yet it is Summer.
Seen and Unseen
strong and courageous
take whatever is dished out
marshmallow inside
Longing
Two Haiku: A Weekend Away
longing for something
you keep feeling everything
knowing of nothing
missing your essence
longing to see you again
keep thinking the worst
Missing You
I sit without you
in the quiet nighttime hours
writing poetry
Waiting
I arrive early,
come back later.
When I arrive later,
a certain look.
Sitting and waiting
on the wooden seat.
Shaded by the Plain tree,
leg hair moves in the wind.
People watching;
odds and ends on election day.
A crow talks shit.
Maybe it’s a pissed off Cockatoo;
no, it’s a crow
perched on the sign Drinking Water.
Waiting and watching,
everything hurts from the hard seat.
Learning about people
and listening to random conversations.
The crow is a squeaky wheel;
the cloud cover dims the soft light.
The odd looks continue,
and my finger keeps touching the keys.
Saturday morning, in the madness
bursting with cars, and
a shit Council incapable of foresight.
On election day,
a day we should be grateful for,
I wonder about this two-faced place.
The Grace
The hustle and bustle
of the blue stone streets.
They gather for a feast
to celebrate the New Year.
They never saw the grace
beaming the colour of light
at the short wavelength end
of the visible spectrum watching on.
Thinking only good thoughts,
they eat from the lucky golden roast.
The grace watches on as
a vine starts to move up the table legs.
Nostalgic Scent
A heavy grey day
out and about for a stroll
A rare quiet day
No raindrops fall
the wind doesn’t whisper
No birds singing
A recluse to many
walking past a cafe
A nostalgic scent
from 1832
Moving Apart
We both grasp the things we once thought we had, those things that made our love a fire.
Since David died, you said I changed. I did. I started to write again after many years.
With each word, we move further apart until the last word we say is goodbye.
The Disappearing Fog
Enveloped in fog;
driving to nowhere,
we falter.
In the aching abyss,
the fog comes quickly;
we brake.
Voices hold us still;
downtrodden cries,
eerily alive.
We disappear softly;
as if we are nothing,
forever gone.
C & K 