Poetry | Stories | Photography
You walk away from humans when emotions get tough, interactions get too real, and the hurts too rough.
You keep making excuses for your life choices, being broke, and having no friends.
A bottle a day keeps everyone away, is what you love to say.
It becomes too much on Christmas Day as you feel your soul fading away.
How will he be mine?
Cat-like in her scheming, a devious plan develops.
A frog lover, she thinks ‘danger’ and dresses as an Ophidian.
Slinking along in the grass, she never saw the snake.
He saw a flurry of grass, a flying snake, and the cute neighbour running towards him.
An urbanised prodigy.
While playing the violin, his teacher said, “You need to understand nature for this piece”.
Baffled, he said, “I don’t understand”.
The teacher said, “You hold wood and shellac; you touch horse hair and resin. Is this not part of nature?
“I guess”.
The warmth of the night, the insect sounds, and the thought of getting nibbled to death by mozzies causes tumultuous thoughts to stir as the stroll becomes a serious walking affair.
Sick of the still and quiet home, a walk seemed like a good idea. Now it’s time to go home.
Wavelets move.
I’m home now, she tells the sea.
A wavelet splashes her feet.
Is that your answer, she whispers.
The wavelet doesn’t touch her feet.
Looking to the lunar sky as light touches the sea surface, she asks the sea if it’s the moon.
A wavelet touches her feet.
A meeting in the backyard.
The bunny hops towards the smug ginger cat.
The cat takes a step forward, and the bunny remains steadfast.
The cat takes another step forward, ready to fight; the indomitable bunny hops over the cat, turns back, and giggles.
Le Chat is known internationally for decadent pastries and desserts.
Little do the customers know that the chefs and their staff consist of aliens with a hive mind.
Their planet no longer grows sugar cane and strawberries, so they invaded Earth for sugar and sweets.
An invitation arrives for a white-tie party at Mr Windson’s chateau.
Flattered, Anna cannot resist the thought of doing something exciting.
On arrival, a man of impeccable manners greets her and says, “Who will you be tonight, the one with the power or the powerless?”
The steady rain turns my mind switch to sleep,
for the week has been hectic and monetised.
Between sleep and awake, I hover in a dream.
A bloke dressed in a sheet talks with intention,
then turns to me and says, “Why the hemlock?”
I awaken and drop my cup.
Sitting on random park benches, gazing into the dirty river, talking to a power poll about the upcoming election, and walking alone through the busy streets.
To most people, she’s a nobody.
If only they knew she won the national planking cup; she also makes cheese.
C & K 