insects

the subtle scent of incense burning and warm takes me back to summers of my youth. a distant memory, not quite faded from my brain. the smell wraps itself around me, vaguely familiar. i cannot quite grasp the images, they are dream-like and distant at times. and then suddenly clear, conjuring up scenes of sunshine, heat, smoke, a dull rhythm of drum beats and velvet corners. smooth and curving, they cling to the deepest recesses within me.

summertime

green grass lays spinning
twirling flashing around
in a swirling circle whir
sun drenched dark floor boards
leading to the frothy ocean colour
schemed out of winter dreams
dayscapes of easy-ness
sandy feet hand hair
dried suits parched skin
browned in the afternoon skies

secrets

saying too much has always been an issue for her
not saying enough was never a real problem
always speaking, thinking, wondering, assuming, wishing, writing, believing
sharing has been something she's longed to do
with someone, anyone
trusting someone else, baiting them to pass along details
hoping they would not share what was meant to be kept private

scent of punk incense
sluices rain through the barley sacks
strung out after the rain
soaked through chlorine perfumed towels
candles flicker
shrieked cries erupt splashed over
fan whirls plastic
stillness brandished over burned grass
beneath the sunshine clouds robins cruise
my eyes cast over
the lit greenbrown palm tree sits alone
lost
forlorn
forgotten

driven

she had driven to the edge of the world, or so it seemed. perching on the slope of a grassy hill that went on and on, she peered over the side, careful to not pitch forward into what she saw as the abyss of rocks, stones, grass, twigs. and end of her existence. sighing heavily, she closed her eyes and wondered silently how she had reached here. to this point in her life where just looking down a hill conjured up images of darkness and destruction. she quickly shook the images from her head, opened her eyes and gazed out, determined to see this beautiful scene for what it really was. a magical place where her life now was and where her life could be something new.

mutterings week 380

I say ... and you think ... ?

1. Rock n Roll :: hall of fame, love letter
2. Be with you :: want, desire, and also with me
3. Richard :: the lionhearted, the third, hatch
4. Hair :: bear bunch,
5. Police :: sting, state
6. Experience :: the sensation
7. Father figure :: it out, dad
8. Nice :: one, hat, to me
9. Switch :: plate, it on
10. Appearance :: isn't everything, matters

for unconscious mutterings week #380

event

"event"

small and inconsequential
a blip in time (and space)
one moment out of so very many
she lifted her eyes upwards
wondering why
how it had suddenly occurred
a tiny spark
brought back around
created this
a new timeline
for her
for all of us
she stepped back
away from the edge
blending again
into a crowd
of millions
alone.

*for sunday scribblings - event"

my life

"my life"
gathering together
nonsense chatter
coffee speed
errands to complete
two hours
rush
more at home
coffee speed
text message
lunchbox drop
gym shorts new school
double park
karate dance soccer band
crockpot take away
cereal for dinner
wrap it up
lights out
start again
another day

dinner

what to have, where to eat, when to start
where to start?
overdone
underdone
hot
cold
blackened
raw
covered with sauce (not ketchup)
do you want fries with that?
(giggle)
remember to salt the water
fling the pasta on the wall?
clear up
wash up
wipe up

start over tomorrow

*bit late, for prompt "dinner" sunday scribblings*

red hot

stolen moments whispered words
borrowed kisses hidden doors
closed eyes
dark corners
underneath the veil of night
they meet
hidden behind masks of deceit and white lies
she with not he but him
he with not her but she
encoded texts double meanings
words glance the edges of the page
unsent unseen
tripp over black and white and red
envy's necessity wishes lock
windows crack left open
undone
shimmering flung
senselessly slammed land
muddied with time's passing