Writing with others are both inspiring and fun. I hope you enjoy this collaboration between me and Bree. Reading Bree’s work is like walking into her garden in every season. Secret Thoughts Within
An exhausted heart, asking no more for rain A shameful shadow deserving no reprieve from disdain A drip, running down from the heavens to my soul A refreshment, replenishing the drought within me A book, doing just that to rescue me A story, unfolding before my eyes making my heart sing again
you weave through the silver curtain
in violet and fuchsia silk
the infant romance, so sweet
held in our treasuring hands
when the petals peeling off
our hearts crying purple rain
My boyfriend's neighbour
had a thing for him
He was often called over
to play handyman
As a reward
he got to take home
delicious food
and a case of beer
My boyfriend is
a simple minded
and single minded man
I love him for that
One evening
I went to stay
at his place
on foot
instead of driving
We heard two knocks
He opened the door
I hid
underneath the sheet
The neighbour asked
if she could use his shower
because hers was broken
He was being a kind soul
as usual
showed her semi naked neighbour
to the shower
We sat quietly
and was very amused
listening to her
singing in the shower
She had quite a sexy voice
actually
Then she called out
"Can you pass me my towel?
My eyes are wet with shampoo."
I passed her the towel
she grabbed my hand
and pulled me to her
Both of us were very wet
indeed
I was laughing
and she was mortified
The Living Poetry picture prompt
There is a food shortage
in our town
except the gated community
I've found a way
to climb over the hedge
to help myself
with some leftover party food
and pack some for later
On my way back down
I come face to face
with a squirrel
nibbling on a pine cone
It looks at me
I look at it
Suddenly I feel really sad
because God looks after a squirrel
better than me
If you like drumming…
Have you ever been blinded by the pain?
Blinded, blinded by the pain
Unwilling to see, senseless
So blinded by selfishness
Only focusing on myself
And ignoring anyone else
Becoming driven by despair
Feeling trapped into a corner
Losing more and more of reality
Perceiving all the hurt only one-sidedly
Have you ever been blinded by the pain?
Losing yourself inside the heartache
Losing yourself
Feeling too powerless to change
Stuck and unable to escape
Incapable to see another way
I need someone to shake me, to wake me
I don't even need full clarity
Just to start the shift from blind to blurry
Have you ever been blinded by the pain?
Losing yourself inside the heartache
And does that mean we cannot change?
Or will we always be seen that way?
Will we always be seen that way?
And does that really mean we have not changed?
Or does it only mean
The truth is not in how we're seen?
But in the actions that we're now determined to take
Revealing the new path we chose to mend the heartache
Was it a pattern or a disastrous mistake?
Is the truth in what you see or what I say?
Have you ever been blinded by the pain?
Losing yourself inside the heartache
And does that mean we cannot change?
Or will we always be seen that way?
Be seen that way?
Blinded by pain? (blinded by the pain)
And does that really mean we have not changed?
we stick together
in this la-la land
writing beautiful poetry
while the world outside
is taken over by bots
together we are fighting
to keep creativity alive
breaking the one and zero binary
with the sword of alphabets
held in a poet's hand
This is another collaboration with Bree. Do check out her written and audio poetry, you will be sated: Secret Thoughts Within
I see you sitting here all alone wondering if your worries will keep you up again tonight I hate seeing you break watching the light draining from your sunken eyes Let it wash away you were never meant to carry a burden so laden Tell me your troubles pour them out into my open heart and together we’ll break the chains of despair
I remember watching you disappeared into the sea of jacaranda last Spring.
You took the ending chapter of our story with you and left me with the blank pages.
Last night, I dreamed of reading by the jacaranda tree. Purple hearts filled the empty pages overflowing like confetti.
In the morning I reached out for the remnant of you. But the Autumn air was cold enough to frost my purple dream.
This is one of the dark poetry which I wrote as a writing exercise. Dark poetry is not my usual genre. I had fun writing it.
She was as slim as a cigarette.
He longed to be the filter between her divine lips.
Each smoke circle she oozed out blurred his vision and dizzied his mind.
He remembered what his Mama said to him ‘they came to steal your soul son.’
He pressed his hand firmly on her sexy mouth to muffle the screams till her eyes were wide open.
Eventually she was extinguished like a cigarette butt before being tossed to the dumpster.
This is one of the dark poetry which I wrote as a writing exercise. Dark poetry is not my usual genre. I had fun writing it.
The night made its way into the depth of darkness.
In the dim light of a kerosene lamp, he plaited the corse strands into resilient strings with his nimble fingers.
He fervently stretched the anaemically pale canvas onto the frame.
Shades of red mixed in an aesthetic colour palette, he restored each painting with precision brush strokes.
When the twilight arrived, he hung all the art works back on and marveld at his resurrection.
Curator Chester Gallery was arrested on 13th September 1888 for the serial murders of art students in the gallery where he worked.
Flicker of Thoughts 