I feel alive
With salt in my hair
Sand between my toes
Sunburn on my cheeks
I am free
Feeling Like Myself
Tag: nature
When did I write about love last?
Open field of lavenders
decorated with purple dreams
filled with smoky scent
from the sprigs
broken between our skin
Perhaps
that’s enough
to make the moon
pregnant
Shells
I long to be
these little shells
laze around
on a bed of moss
wearing the marks
of the ocean
bath in the healing sun
Mellow Sky
We became
the mellow sky
In harmony with
the time polished rocks
And finely sieved sand
Happy Days
I looked through the train window
Lines of yellow trees shimmering
in the golden sun rays
That took me to the sunflower field in January
when I wore smiles like daffodils
Pebbles
Chilly autumn day
on a wet shore
The hard-edged pebbles
underneath my unprepared feet
cripple my steps
Leaning against a rock
I watch you snorkeling
flappers up
diving deep
towards the colourful marine world
where you find joy
and peace
A Kookaburra And Me
Your garden
I trespass
You size me up
I hold still
No eye contact
Let it be peace
between us
I only
stopping by
A View of The World
from Wendy’s Secret Garden
framed by an ancient fig tree
like a distant memory
of a holiday destination
we once visted
* Wendy’s Secret Garden info: https://www.wendyssecretgarden.org.au/wendys-story/
Nature Declares
My heart is an island
Your eyes are the ocean
Your shoulder is the land
Our love shimmers
from the view of an airplane
Night Cemetery
He has always been drawn to cemeteries, from a young age, when he didn’t know fear yet, or the intricacy of life and death. Later in life, he learned the complicated truth about emptiness of the living dead and the totality of a life’s end.
He doesn’t believe in life after death, nor the grand closure death may bring to the human souls. He gets comfortable with death, like birth, breathing, hunger, thirst, sleep, arousal. These sensations are striped down to the natural form of things, without the need for questioning or overthinking.
Tonight, he was motivated to take a walk in the cemetery to get some fresh air, to get unstuck in his creativity, to deconstruct the somewhat overwhelming feelings and all the while numb sensation.
Maybe it’s the blue moonlight reflecting the quietness of the dead, maybe it’s darkness presenting herself as a lover, he broke free from his jeans and linen shirt, exposing his chest to breath freely. He lay on his bare back, let the moisten soft grass caress his over sensitive skin, he felt the softness and teasing. The flexing of muscles drove the lawn bugs to hiding.
He experienced a surge of energy from the earthing, sparks of electricity coursing through his body, building up in his torso. Without any conscious awareness, he started to stroke himself with firm pressure while staring into the void of the inky sky. His palm pulsating in sync with the blood-filled veins, without knowing how close he got, the flash of shooting stars brought about his eruption.
Slowly he began to notice his own breathing; the steady rhythm of his heartbeats returned; the feeling of an uncomplicated emptiness stayed with him in the deep of the night, in the cemetery filled with the serenity of the dead.
Flicker of Thoughts 