Poetry | Stories | Photography
Rustling outside removed her from a nap.
Going to the door and looking outside, she stumbled upon a bag of seeds.
Keen to see them grow, she propagated the “Little Paws”.
After six months, meowing starts coming from the greenhouse; she runs outside to see kittens everywhere.
Out there with the heavy clouds hanging around you and the sea never far away from your messed up heart, I listen to you experiment with the notion that not all humans are here to grow old.
Fearful of your words, I listened to you tell me how you want to caress a Lobster.
a virtual museum
the children watch humans from centuries ago
their attributes are
so different from anything the children understand
an uncontrolled sea
landscapes with rolling hills, trees, and sunlit animals
A natural freedom these children will never know
a bell rings in the distance
silence around the void
another bell begins to ring,
ring, ring, ring, ring, hiss
a peek from under the table
growling as the void arrives
a stand-off fit for cinema
the cats start getting uppity
ring, ring, ring, ring, meow
they retreat to hide all night
A Sunday afternoon longing and a yearning for those fragments of what I thought I was before I took this path.
Rain droplets splatter the glass of my window, so I raise the blind to see the wind moving the unkempt grass, and I watch the droplets run down the glass.
I gather all of the friends from my dreams I have not yet met, and I hold them close to me like the ghosts of the loved ones who died.
Rain droplets continue to splatter the glass of my window, and the wind and the rain create music I often long to hear.
I revel in the quickening rain which showers the glass of my window, the increasing wind, and I wish for more of this quiet music.
Yellow roses adorn an Italian scarf given to her by her mother.
The scent of roses in summer lingers on the breeze of her homeland.
Spring comes to the old land to take the winter from her again.
Something found and now lost, as the scent reminds her of love.
The scarf moves about her in the breeze as she says goodbye.
She remembers the scented perfume of the roses as she thinks of her lost homeland.
happiness expectations in the office
saying hello like your life depends on it
contemplating another coffee by 9:05 am
co-workers fuel your addiction
people calling before 1 pm is sacrilege
what the feck am I doing?
Overwhelmed,
you attack the biscuits
and cry at your desk.
At the desk,
between the mortgage payments and the kitty litter,
I have a think.
All those dreams
from years ago when we thought being successful
was for everyone.
As the years passed,
we learnt that the road to success is not always fair, equal, or merit-based.
They line up at the dragon shelter. Some like to look, others like to pat, and some want a pet.
Harold considers himself a dragon connoisseur.
At the cage of Peffy, quintessential comes to Harold’s mind until Peffy coughs, farts, and sets Harold’s beard on fire.
The misty lake in the morning,
waiting for the chill to subside.
Watching and thinking about you
Wondering where your heart
has gone; is it still with me?
Thinking back to times before
technology made communication
so easy. When written words
delivered by post meant the
difference between life and death.
Sounds are few yet soothing,
as the lake seems reluctant to
give up any of her secrets.
Thinking this must be my way,
as you deny me even a text message
while playing the heartstrings.
Moving as the mist leaves the lake
exposed to my gaze, scrutiny.
Just like me, the lake is exposed;
waiting for the heart tune to stop.
C & K 