Reality

Harsh realities crash in
And like bitter memories do
They change us
Maybe even remove
Any sense of sensibility
And we find ourselves
In empty shopping malls
Searching for toilet paper
And pasta that isn’t wholegrain.
Panicked and broken
We return to our homes
Switch on the radio or tv
And listen to the latest news –
How many have succumbed
How many new cases
When will toilet paper
Be back on the shelves.
Maybe some of us
Reread Tolkien’s
Lord of the Rings
Or all of our Harry Potter novels
While we snack on chocolate
Left over from Christmas
And drink tea
Flavoured with honey
And play board games
And wonder if things
Will ever be the same.

In case of emergency

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The Blizzard

Across a Surreal landscape
White defeats the green
Black naked branches
Reach towards low slung clouds
As snow flurries lash
Exposed skin on cheerful faces
We shelter in each other’s warmth
And conversations of sunshine
Promoted by
Wine, good gin and pizza.

The road out.

Just do it… gently

With the suns arrival
and the departure of the night
My body stirs…
It needs stuff.
Tea, strong and white,
Toast - blonde
Eggs, over easy
Painkillers by two
Happy pill by one
Stomach - there’s one for you too
Eyes - cleared
Skin - moisturised
A walk - Knee strapped
Cane - in hand
Sunglasses - prescription grade, on
Dog - ready
Let's do this day.

Survive

A short story composed without the assistance of the humble letter ‘A’

I slowly pulled my fingers through the golden flower. Intrigued, I noticed droplets of liquid forming on my fingertips. I stuffed my fingers into my mouth. The sweetness flowed over my tongue.
If this is how to survive in the bush, I think I will be fine.
Things took unlikely turns from this point. “Try this” my instructor grunted. He gently pulled white worms from the split bowl of the tree. My bowels fired. I’m not going to keep this down.
It got progressively worse. Things with legs, things without legs, more with legs, forced upon me.
But I survived!
My pride in completing the course is only outweighed by this complete conviction – If I lose myself in the bush, I will only ever consume the flowers.

Peggy-Sue (haibun)

Peggy-Sue got married. Not last year, because we were dating then. It wasn’t this Spring either, we were still together, even then. So here is Summer and I’m at the beach, trying to put sunscreen on my back. Peggy-Sue got married yesterday.

moments remembered
summer burns along my spine
‘til death, do us part

 

 

 

 

 

Senryu (Process)

type your first word here

then keep typing 'til the end -

how to write a book
:)

Haiku (Sleep)

Gently sleep tugs me
Into a late morning nap
Winter sun subdues

 

 

Communication – Love Poem for Lyne (2)

Make eye contact and say the words,

Let me see them fall from your lips.

Don’t send them along the copper cords

Or wirelessly send your sweetest quips –

Yours eyes say more than simple speech

Distance and time make the feeling leech.

 

Hold my hand and say you care.

Tell me again that I’m all you need.

I love the warmth you often share

And know this time my heart won’t bleed.

It’s when we touch, our spirits soar –

I feel it at my deepest core.

 

To keep our love that’s set in stone –

Let’s hold hands, not use the phone.

Micro Tales (2) x 3

Beige

Lights flash by the window

I know them, and they barely register.

A familiar hacking cough disturbs.

Tinny announcements are ignored

By my numb mind.

My beige life,

Clatters in time with the carriage –

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack,

Day after day.

I need colour…

At the next station, she steps into my life.

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Watermelon 

There is something satisfying,

When the seed you spit, lands perfectly

On the shoulder of your detractor –

Unbeknownst to them.

Is not the day a little brighter?

The juice a little sweeter?

The colour more than watermelon?

The future seems promising,

The past… Further past…

The joy of simple revenges.

.

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Red

As long as she can remember

Her view from the hillside cottage

Had been Argassi’s terracotta rooftops –

Down to the turquoise Mediterranean.

This has been her anchor.

She was born here,

She grew here,

She learned here,

She loved here,

She taught here,

And she gave here.

Now she is returned to the soil…

to become part of here.

Haiku (untitled)

(It looks like the moon is stuck up a tree, and I’m in the mood for a nice cup of tea – words by ‘Buck 65’  Click here)

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summer rain threatens

moon seeks shelter in a tree

today I sleep-in