Another reload. Nearly all up again. New work at the lab now.
across the universe / against the wind & dust / away from reality / under the burning mortal sun
Keith is a talented author and he always write so well, it’s another collabration with Keith and his art work “burning bush” / Thank you my friend Keith
She called the other day. / She does that sometimes / Asks about my life / Tells me about hers But I don’t care I feign interest / It …
When I think of dust I feel at peace with myself and the universe – so it’s a good enough excuse for me not to bother cleaning up the hou…
Oh… It’s just me, over-analysing something as simple as dust particles. I do that sometimes, perform an autopsy on every, little aspect of Life and Death…
When the rains do come as they surely will / Will the feed return? Are the seeds good still?
My good friend Jan is posting a trilogy of photos about how the great Australian drought has effected land in her area when I saw this one about the worst of the drought I was shocked and this poem came forth. If you want to know why Australia only has 20 odd million people – this is why! Most of the country looks like this of late! sure come on over and grab a plot of land – there is no water to truck in and none falls from the sky – Good Luck Mate! / We must stop wasting water WORLD WIDE or the earth will stay like this!
it gives off a scent you can smell and see / like a killing pheromone cloud hovering above my skin
I did indeed write this piece tonight in that bar watching those two make doe-eyes at each other. Life stinks sometimes. And men are idiots. Predictable, beautiful, idiots.
In the sweetness of my dreams / They surround my bed / Their wings outstretched / As they touch my head They form a circle / And they d…
For Marie (Marie’s Memories) Thank you so much!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
In slippers of ivory, I would climb out onto my balcony, bells and stars woven in knots through my hair, and stand amidst ink and platinu…
A wink, shimmy and respectful curtsey to J. M. Barrie for the magical Never Never.
Once there were sheep / Millions upon millions / in flocks strong and deep
Poetry inspired by the shot of Darren Stones of the sheep yards at Parwan / When once this country rode on the sheep’s back now we are in danger of not having any. What will we do when all the flocks have gone?
Just an observation as to why I think some adults become so miserable with their lives, myself included. I am fortunate enough to find my release in words, where my dreams collide with the fantasy of my imagination.
little things with ripped up wings
i could suckle the sticky coconut milk from the corners of your mouth
Joni Mitchell has a lot to answer for…
You can’t rip this guilt from me / For each thread is securely sewn / Into the day that I lived it / And those days remain / As dusty reminde…
Why do they name something so irritatingly disgusting as a “dust bunny” after a cute forest creature? Sometimes our language slang is stunningly stupid to me. :) Or brilliant, who am I to say? Recovering addicts (or non-recovering addicts) have a life riddled with guilt. / Guilt over their choices. / Guilt over their mistakes. / Guilt over their heartaches, the heartaches they have caused others and the lives (including their own) that they may have destroyed. / Guilt. / The silent forming, ever present dust bunny of addiction. / I have a wide and far reaching broom. / I intend to use it.
spider webs / gather in the corners / like shadows / their jaded landlords / spinning silken threads / in untiring futility
A poem about an empty room, and childhood memories. Written 18 April 2009. Featured in Masterpieces: Literary Workshop and On Youth.
flowing / between the lines / of words in rank / standing to attention / bent to the will / of their Creator
Written 7 May 2009. Featured in On Youth.
I feel like her / the other, / within / dust of orange sighs streak my soul / skies are drawing the truth toward my / infinite playground / and…
Inspired from the work of Lindan Ridpath her amazing work is so full of light. Here is the inspired work Untitled / Thank You Linda! /
There were butterflies in my rib-cage / The day I spun on the mary-go-round / Lights burning the skies like fireflies / But they did not gli…
This probably doesn’t make much sense. It’s about how, for me, I sometimes miss the beauty in simplicity and don’t always appreciate it the same way I did when I was a child, where I let my imagination run wild without a care in the world.
i sweep my feelings away / since they have all turned to dust / my heart broken so many times / it is now tin and filled with rust / my soul …
it’s spring. welcome to neater shelves, and messier hearts.
it’s spring. welcome to neater shelves, and messier hearts. Featured here September 2009. Woot! Featured in the art of pain September 2009. Thanks lovelies.
We matched riding rhythms more like different parts of the same body than rider & ridden. We enjoyed each other’s company from the get go.
Given time and the right associations things often work themselves out, but that’s another story.
when I close my eyes / stilling the whale from breeching – / dust of all that is Kristin Reynolds 10 31 2009
a haiku on breathing, stilling, and what I see behind my eyes while doing so… / it is a remarkable thing.
tickling long shadows / creeping on hallowed ground
Wrote this 30+ years ago after a very close friend died in a car accident….aged 20. I think of him from time to time…...he was full of life and a love that touched every body who met him…..still miss him.
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