Tag Archives: Morning

morning

light from the cockatoo dawn

dances on my chest

maybe it has been absorbed

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one misty thought

 

sifting over misty mountain

sliding along horizons

silently

.

.

mesmerisingly

an allowing point

converging in the rising

steamy coolness

delivering from somewhere deep

inside

a peaking breath

to shake the soul

a little cavalier, axe wielding, idea

chipping away at the grave clinging….

a positive clearing

exposing crisp and naked blue

SONY DSC

 

The Coffee House

 

 

A spider, centred on graceful feet,

is watching me.

 

Anticipation shimmies,

poetry and bitter glee!

 

The gurgling, mud-speckled machine is

righteous, it preaches to silver kettle with ferocity.

 

The toaster is coy.

 

Fork and spoon people quiver.

 

Glass soldiers clink in their morning cupboard.

 

Orchids celebrate this return to sun,

this moist orchestra of green enlightenment.

 

My tongue and mind are dancing!

 

The dawn is plush with bohemian rhythm,

 

I am heavenly breath…

 

Oh my heart leaps across silver dew,

rejoicing in this cacophony,

this thumping, burlesque hymn!

 

So JOYOUS here

in my winking coffeehouse!

Backyard In The Morning When Thinking About My Mum

 

Blue dog has brown eyes

Love is a fact.

 

Sneaky birds stand tall.

 

Blue dog sniffs the tree, scratches with her paw,

then

stretching she turns her attention to froth at

the bottom of my cup.

 

SIGH

 

Clothes relax on the line

 

broken gun

 

just colour now and fluorescent lizard

languid,

on his back

somehow intact.

 

Feathered people talk and sing

 

a tired Babylon fell today.

 

What’s up there in the purple tree?

green leaves?

Secrets?

 

Not really, not if I stretch my legs and climb.

 

Foliage like spoons or fingers…..

 

Sip

it.

 

I am the morning

nothing is really still.

 

The air is a soupy book.

 

Some say god made it

I say,

It was my Mum.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Morning Earth

 

Deep breath

clears the words so, like full cocoons they split and flutter off.

Morning earth makes small gestures

moist fragrant whispers dance persistently in my breast.

The sun holds it’s majesty between my eyes

and purple blossoms……hazy winter…..

What IS this morning saying to me?

What IS this dewy touch I feel

in my throat

…my heart

….on my tips…fingers and toes?

Like camphor perfume, dappled snakes and river water

green and open.

Garden music parts my heart and droplets of lightening glass smile

like freckles in the sand.