A beautiful bird,
having a flutter not far from me.
such beautiful colours & song.
Thinking kind thoughts,
paintings appear behind my eyes.
Lost in deep thought,
a wet feeling on my shoulder.
The bird took a shit on my shoulder;
sad on the way home.
The forest is full of the sounds of snow-covered trees, scurrying creatures, and the hoot of an owl.
By the lambent glow of the lamp, a witch walks along carrying a song to the trees, the snow, and the Earth.
As she walks, trees bow, creatures dance, and the owl nods.
The rain begins to fall. The cold wind moves through your hair as you watch the person you love descend into the soil.
The raindrops roll down your pale face as you hear a song you both loved.
No longer visible, the wind blows as the music comes to an end and you walk away.
The point of your toes.
You dance around the coffee table to a guilty pleasure.
Wild, sweeping, undulated 80’s dance moves take you back in time.
Unaware that the blind is up, you look across to see a passerby give you the Lummox Look.
Unperturbed, you continue dancing naked.
The village gathered around
to see the light on the hill.
Saturated in whiskey and humour,
three brave souls staggered towards the light.
Some looked horrified, others confused, and
one took a nap.
The first to arrive cried, “It’s bloody Steve with a torch up his arse!”
Other people have a great beauty to adore or a muse of flesh and blood.
Yet when she sits and writes poetry, such inspiration does not come from the beauty of the flesh.
Instead, she sits with pots and pans, touching, rubbing and feeling them.
The kitchen is her muse.
You woke from a nightmare and told me about the dead people terrorising you.
I smiled and said, “Dear niece, the ash of a billion people covers the land. We touch the remains of the dead daily. My love, the dead cannot hurt you; leave that to the living.”
He walks constrained by a constant diet.
Every walk past the bakery caused him to whelve his love for carrot cake, doughnuts, and vanilla slices.
All whelved out on a Saturday morning, he purchases all three and sits at home looking at them lovingly.
When we were young,
when you and I, you and me, we used to listen to the sea.
Now we live so far away,
in different places; foreign places so far away from where we used to listen to the sea.
Without knowing why,
at a random time of the day,
you and I, you and me, we will listen from afar to the sea.
Elegance in abundance. A beautiful flower in a sea of ordinary flowers.
Standing there, gosh, I would have believed you were a rose.
Now, knowing what I know, you are an Oleander. A beautiful toxic Oleander.
Oh, how I hate you, and I wish I didn’t know.