Poetry | Stories | Photography
Quiet at the Dining Table.
Haphazardly placed chairs,
sitting without a purpose.
All the efforts feel distant.
Unnaturally, I am at peace
with this foreseen ending.
The cats do not scold me.
Sorrowful ending ordained
by my kindly ancestors.
Sweet love in coffee sips.
Another chapter will meet
me as I step with courage.
A new morning, the same routine to the car
The way work creeps into your life
From a few hours overtime to living to work
Your cats grow older and older each day
The plants become used to surviving alone
The house learns to live without your life
The trap was hidden
once in love with ideas
driven to succeed
I paid with my time
dreaming of billable hours
lost in the targets
competing for space
pungent air in open plan
bitchiness on tap
holding myself close
fear of losing my income
health aligns with fate
walking away
Blinds hide the sunlight
another financial year
letting some light in
The quarterly budget tears
shining sunlight on the screen
the pristine keyboards
Everything has a price tag
rows of offices
people of import
Obviously, there is tea
proper posh tweed suits
type six-minute increments
focused on the clock
No time for the love of life
word-wise predators
dark humour in the corners
Destroying young lives
the song of the wine glass
forgetting why you exist
lost to the red swirling
finishing your sentences
while no one is looking
pouring another half-glass
living in the present
the song about forgetting
Wake up, shower, get ready, and leave for work.
Coffee.
Work.
Leave work, commute home, have dinner, think about free time, take a shower, and sleep.
One of the many is a functioning product.
One of the few is considered defective.
Where do the defective products go?
position for pay
Telephone calls re-echo
E inundation
a coffee cup on repeat
forgetting the last sunset
working diligently
a call to meet and discuss matters
cheerfully walking
feeling older now
a lamb to the slaughter on repeat
behaving myself
his critical words
used within sentences to distract
convoluted thoughts
a civil ambush
performance an excuse for money
haunted now
Walking through a wintry green garden,
listening to the raindrops fall on the plants, trees, and the house.
What a delightful dream this green garden,
beckoning me never to leave the moss, grass, and the quiet life.
Work sounds jolt me back to a busy Monday,
and somehow, I know the corporate world is not my calling.
Waking to the smell of herbs and nature clicks,
and I know that I can never return to my previous mindset.
With my work cup, my bag, and a picture on the wall,
I take the back way out of the office and travel towards home.
C & K 