The kettle whistles
your teapot and tea leaves dance
Lid and tea cosy
Dreaming after work
immersed in a Roman Bath
Loving Yorkshire Gold
Tea tickles your thighs
milk, sugar and tea inside
Rosy amber glow
Tag: vss
Loss of Love
Grief came in the form of an apoplectic outburst.
The trees ceased to whisper, the animals hid from sight, and the clouds dared not share their secrets.
This drowning grieving anger, tearing the self asunder and hurting the only one in the mirror.
Damaging the covering, digging nails into soft skin and finally succumbing to the loss of love.
The Nymph
A Nymph on the shore; the waves move in, calling to you softly.
The words are odd, and the expression is plain.
Something from beyond whispers, please listen to the sea, so you listen to the sea for a time.
You hear sounds under the waves.
With the Nymph’s heart so close to the palace of shells, you realise this is your watery home.
Violet Worry
violet bruises
“no cause for concern”, you say to the summer day
people worry
correction: friends and family worry about this you
incorrection
no guilty boyfriend or jilted lover created the violet
truthfully
it was you, wildly spinning into inanimate objects
while tripping out to Oscillate Wildly on repeat
My Denouement
The dirt and the heat: fiery ochre dirt blazing away in the sun.
I travelled for days to find you, yet I know in my heart that you are dead.
As I find no strength to go on, the grey clouds of my childhood gather, the rain starts to fall, and I reach my denouement.
India Vibes
Swirling colourful cloth,
the scent of sandalwood and the streets.
Bangles move to the drums,
almost touching, and the dance gathers emotion.
Daydreaming you’re a star,
Bollywood feels like floating on a fame cloud.
Wailing, you are my Jaanu!
Strange looks from people passing by.
In the End
In the end, we sit on a hill looking towards the sea.
There are no waves, and the air has a strange taste.
The trees whisper a dying plea, yet we do not have the strength to go on.
With a manic urgency, you say, “Give me your innermost confession so my soul may remember.”
I embrace you and say, “I’ve never liked endings, and I feel too much. Yet I cannot think of another way to spend my last day”.
Baked Ham Chips
My heavy heart!
Good intentions were forgotten, for the chippy packet crinkled.
Oh, heavy heart, the baked ham chips empty into a mystical place.
How did the chip packet cease to contain sweet, salty baked potato crispies?
Feeling the Tyre around my waist, I am unsure how those chips came to be inside.
A morose mood takes hold; I’m haunted by the sweet and salty taste on my lips.
The Livid Sky
You stand under a livid sky,
singing soft words to your broken heart,
and feeling the livid bruises.
In the Gulag, no freedom to be anyone,
and the living body dies.
Pictures of what once was,
memories of what might have been;
I hope they learn from our sorrow.
Cephalopod Intelligence
In a secret coral location, the cephalopod intelligence committee meets every month on Wednesday at 7 pm sharp.
On the agenda, this month is a spy who infiltrated a group of elite Squid, a terrorist octopus, and an uprising and subsequent bleaching of coral.
C & K 