on our adventure
travelling to distant lands
on the computer
dreaming of foreign cuisine
imagining seawater
Tag: poetry
The Ceremony
The ceremony is the beginning and the end. Shape-shifting reveals her hidden desires. Wolves in the forest, life and death are interwoven. A foreign voice speaks; unrecognisable, yet it is her own. Smoke and mirrors, horrors and joys are interwoven. Dancing to a silent drum, the forest can feel the energy. Spirits of the dead rise as the world of the living and death blur. A cleansing of herself reveals a cleansing of the forest; they are the same.
In the waves
a knotted stomach
too much stress for one person
she calls from afar,
or is it just my rumbling stomach?
a watery foot sensation
the smell of saltwater in the office
running towards the sand
finding closure in the waves
Recovery
A fog hangs
dreaming vision
A cup of soup
laying down low
A dim room
listening to birds
A whisper from beyond
visions and dreams
A cup of tea
winter winds move
A hug and a kiss from you
washing away death
A naked sleep
wishing for you
A leg wrapped around you
folding into rhythm
A journey into the fog
whispers of love
44
Feeling the texture
Rubbing your nose and a leg
Another grey hair
Today is another day
An over-forty birthday
Becoming Amethysts
Standing face to face
Silence settles, and the Director watches
Stillness becomes a loud beating silence
Shimmering, emotional vibrations intensify
Slowly, the two metamorphose into living,
breathing gemstones, and the dance begins
Modern Colours
Flashes of a ballroom
vibrant 1950s green,
black and white tiles
blood red river running
between the tiles
Never to return, or so
it seemed once
Stepping over the threshold
into childhood screams
A solitary figure with
no one to greet her
The renovations were simple,
that green colour she loved
Turning away from this
place of painful memories
Leaving behind the good and
the bad for modern colours
Too much coffee
Peeking from the door
An inconspicuous look
A unique perfume
Your love sits oblivious
Dancing with the toilet brush
So Modern
We were so modern
Lace gloves, balloon skirts, wild hair
Now, it’s Gold FM
Bruised Jazz
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.
C & K 