wind moves the branches
fast asleep in the lush leaves
a stirring approach
eyes open slowly to see
a ray of light from somewhere
Tag: poetry
Ill-Fated Day
the mud of autumn
mixed with the bodies of the
dead and the dying
An ill-fated day for the
brave men of the Wolf Argent
No need to be Nice
As an experiment, she decided to work, watch, and wait.
An unwelcoming vibe initially felt like overthinking, until the gossipy clique started talking about the person who occupied her seat.
A long line of Lawyers shared her seat, so she worked, showed kindness, and was never nice.
A Stranger to Home
A new morning, the same routine to the car
The way work creeps into your life
From a few hours overtime to living to work
Your cats grow older and older each day
The plants become used to surviving alone
The house learns to live without your life
Intellectual Sunrise
cold pastel colours
the heliacal rising
a quiet morning
A Martian
that rust-red planet
from the moment he could walk
Mars was once his home
unable to sleep
watching the stars and the sky
longing to return
Sky Man, a Martian
with a soul made of red earth
longing for something
Echoing Shadows
The waning fire smoulders
They gather in the distance
voices from another time
deep shapes move towards the fire
shapeshifting metamorphoses
gather strength outside the circle
waves of gooseflesh stir the spirit
light and drums beat in the distance
from the cursed forest cathedral
Low Tide
Carrying a spade and a bucket,
towards the clear, shallow pool.
A baby crab kicks up some sand,
and a fish, startled, tries to flee.
Her small hands are not unkind,
for she does not wish them harm.
Running around the crystal pool,
squealing and waving her spade.
Magical Book Nook
Fairies and a forest live on the
walls of the reading book nook,
where imagination takes over.
She sits unencumbered by the
constraints of religion and ideas,
for the ancient ones know her.
Sitting surrounded by stories,
the nook comes alive in the rain,
and the painted forest is alive.
The Log
The warm embers of what was,
a smouldering log glows.
All around the log of you,
there lies the darkened ash.
You, continuing to burn,
the ash of what has been.
The Fireflies do support you,
dancing around your glow.
The log of you splits apart,
igniting your life fire.
C & K 