Monthly Archives: August 2011

Rooms (Set 1) (Mansion)

Multiple Worlds The door is ornately engraved with lithographs of mountains, forests and cities. A quote on the door reads: “So many worlds, so much to do, so little done, such things to be.” Alfred Lord Tennyson Wanting to see … Continue reading

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Hopscotch (Poems)

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 A game of hopscotch chalk outline on black paving the guardian of chance ~~~ The Gods decide fates and destiny on a hopscotch course marked out on the stars ~~~ … Continue reading

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Black and White Lightning (Poem)

Black and white lightning silently lighting up the sky like a 1920’s film devoid of colour, full of grace.

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The Mansion

You told people you didn’t need a map. You said it would be a short journey from the city to the village. You did need a map. Hours of wandering have left you lost, very lost and what should be … Continue reading

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Ice and Snow (Shards) (Fragments and Poems)

Wooden shrine wrapped in a snow storm plays host to a figure wrapped in black floating above the blanket no footprints disappearing into the blizzard of ice ~~~ Wraith bone gaucho, sallow horse cross through the blizzard wondering where the … Continue reading

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Clouds (Night) (Poems)

Caravan of ghosts moon beam trail Astral rags disintegrate wind strewn sky Wraithen fabric drifting on night tides Ashen giants splinter on twilight gales Phantom brumes dreaming of infinite voids Night rafts of ethereal wraith bone follow waxen rivers Loamy … Continue reading

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Voyage (Across the wild blue yonder) (Poem)

Morning tide. A lone ship sails through the deep blue pallid sails tinged golden in the early light. Trailing pirate ship attempts to make its move before swooping dragons offer a worthwhile distraction the air thick with cannon smoke and … Continue reading

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Cobbles and Gutters (Fragments)

In the maze of cobbles and gutters the remnants of the day gather. Torn up train tickets, crumpled newspapers and burned out cigarette butts litter the cobbles, waiting for night rain to come, waiting to be washed away into the gutter. … Continue reading

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Village, Skeleton and Gaucho (Fragments and poems)

The sun retreats, the moon moves in and one by one the lights in the village go out. Except for one. ~~~ The night air is quiet, the only sound to be heard comes from the graveyard. Cross legged before … Continue reading

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Clouds (Fragments and poems)

Rowing boat made of clouds. Its how he crosses the great blue yonder. ~~~ They are rarely seen. Some doubt they even exist. But when loamy clouds congregate in blue skies the cloud runners emerge. Dwelling inside cirrus structures they … Continue reading

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