Through misty rain,
in the grey light of day,
I see you clearly.
Tag: poetry
A Spring Day
cherry scents from bright red lips
fill
his coffee head with sweet thoughts.
cold winds calmly move about,
as
spring decides it’s time to let go.
coral dresses leave his heart lost
and
ready for whatever the day holds.
chocolate leg whiffs taste so good,
as
he takes this spring breath of the day.
Thoughts of Italy
I walk on cobbled and chipped streets.
The smells and the sounds of Stresa and Baveno
on a warm Spring day, come back to me.
Prosciutto pizza with you under the
plain trees remind me of Lygon Street,
and I’m homesick for both.
A scarf of burnt orange moves in the breeze,
and the colour blends in with the architecture;
the sound of Paganini fades, and I’m alone.
A Frosty Morning
Empty beer bottles lay lonely and over-cuddled on the
kitchen table, the lounge room floor, and near the recycle bin.
Semi-naked and numb from the cold, you wake up next
to the love of your life, snoring deeply and looking deathly pale.
Unaware that your lover is waking up, you dash for the
toilet, have a quick wash, and start walking on the crunchy grass.
Waking up, you realise the robe chord is a bit loose and
there is more on display from the rear than you first thought.
The snapping sound seems distant, yet after thirty or so seconds,
you turn around to see your lover snapping your buns.
Initially pissed off, several semi-dark thoughts race through your
head until you let it all go, take your robe off, and pose.
The Hallway
An endless hallway,
masking a silent scream.
Running to the end,
moving so very, very slow.
A line of sunlight,
the walls are moving alive.
Walking into the sun,
feeling the springtime bloom.
Thinking all is swell,
looking around the hall as
they cast shadows on the wall.
The Coming of Winter
Teapot Face
Fucking angry.
Idle teapots hold the answer.
Hand in, punch out;
teapot face.
The Woods
Whispers from the woods
Whispering, ‘Come and play.’
Waking from a slumber,
setting out on an adventure.
While many feet move, the
woods hold still waiting.
When she enters the woods,
there are no feelings of malice.
Walking along to a song
she has never heard before.
Whispering sounds calm her
footsteps as they quicken.
Wise and tall, the old one stands
looking at her like her mum.
Wondering, she moves closer,
as the tree comes to life.
Windless leaves seem lifeless,
yet there is magic all around.
Walking through the entrance,
another world awaits
and the leaves of the old
world rustle and wave.
Above your head
Walking up the street,
oblivious to the wind;
skirt above your head.
Naughty Seraphim
Paws pounce in the night
the whispering trees greet the
naughty Seraphim
C & K 