Poetry | Stories | Photography
Some prayed for rain; others danced, many gave up hope as the dams dried up.
An old man sat looking at them, shook his head, and thought of all those times he scolded the rain.
What he’d give for drop now, yet then he hated how the rain always ruined his plans.
An old heart moving
against the Warragul wind,
to feel the cold rain.
Admiring the wild green hills,
slowly devoured by houses.
The light begins to take cover under a sea of clouds;
the clouds move closer and grower darker and darker.
I keep the light off in my room, waiting for the rain to
begin, and hoping for the chance to show you a photo.
You are stuck in North Queensland being burnt by the
sun every day; I sit here in the cold, wet winter I love.
The night creeps closer, and the sky becomes darker,
as the rain starts to fall and move down the window.
I take a series of photos, then send my best one to you,
although I think you will say the weather is yucky again.
The night sets in. I imagine you out and about in the
garden, talking to the neighbour or cooking dinner for two.
You stay locked in North Queensland, and I stay locked in
Gippsland, as we wait for the chance to hug and kiss again.
The light is a faded memory on the horizon, as twilight loses
to the night and the absence of moon and stars leaves only
the reflection of someone I should know better in the window.
Condensation moves
My view of the world
Distant trees stand
Distorted by condensation
Wild wind whistling
Rain lashes the outside
Near and far from me
Whistling outside prison
Ceiling light reflection
Raindrops dance in my light
Outside night creeps slowly
My view reflects only me
Condensation sets in
Rain running down, down
Outside is a dreamland
Rain, wind and whispers
My warm prison is artificial
My view clear in my reflection
The sky holds the bad-tempered sun,
in one of those moods;
the dry land is burning.
Humans walk along in a forced daze.
Animals take shelter.
Birds steal old chips.
The fiery winds blow through the cities,
new hairdos flee freely,
cracked lips are now “in”.
Winter white skin turns bright lobster pink.
Different pigments burn;
natural tanners strip off.
Burning hell is the new spring, so it seems.
Bushfires strip old towns,
heartache echoes loss.
From out of nowhere, he moves so freely.
Sunnies for Mr Cool;
Donning linen luxury.
Moving in a saunter to defy the sun.
The sky looks down,
wishing for rain.
Rain falls from the sooty clouds
to kiss the desolation we made.
They saw the rain contemptuously,
then they cried when it fell no more.
The clouds call the rain to fall again,
but only for the love of the land.
The hills of green are visible far and wide, although, down here forever is blind.
The sky is shy today, as he decides that we all need a decent dose of grey without rain.
Winds flow through the castle which once housed our family and our loving hearts.
The sky knows what my heart feels, but he’s always been good at knowing my heart.
I travelled far and wide to try and escape the pain sitting heavily upon my heart as I miss you, yet I cannot keep going forever.
The sky tells the rain to hold off, and the rain orders the sky not to interfere; the sky and the rain grumble like a married couple in love.
Walking along the Kyle, I know the time is near; how wonderful it will be, after over one hundred years of your moods, you and I will meet again.
As the rain begins to fall, it seems the rain won the argument; perhaps I will win with you too.
grey moves in to darken the sky
the atmosphere changes inside
rain moves on the house windows
meandering water stops my mind
fresh rain smells calm a hot heart
rain dots the wooden window sills
standing and forgetting the sorrow
grasping the raindrops falling soft
rain droplets
wet your skin
cooling water
wish for more
C & K 