Thursday, 22 April 2010

kings cross ahoy!

Morning whistles up the laneway
coffee and sunshine strips
sparkling off windows. Somewhere
lovers caress, white sheets
slung to the breezes
as if today, Kings Cross
could sail away.

Sail out through the heads
detatched and uncaring
a glittering boat with bright
neon mastings, short skirted
deck hands hoist
business boy rigs.

And I'd be the captain
the muse and the poet. Steering
a course out and beyond
billowing orders
to those who would listen
sail on an island
break into song.......

.... my daydream is brittle
splintered and earthen
by buskers lament
a wondering song
of high sea adventures
white sheet fantastic
Kings Cross ahoy
break into song

Monday, 5 April 2010

in good hands

mists cuddle the house
gently falling, stopping
to peek through the windows
sometimes resting as a droplet
sometimes curling and billowing
with each zephyr
languidly fighting the sunrays
that turn all to dust

inside the radio crackles
daydreamless stuff really
I wonder if i should make
another cup of tea
or start something new
awakening the embers
with a puff of oxygen
and some new found enthusiasm

but the mists return
with a vengeance
of their own
hypnotizing through the leadlight
cracks meandering as if the voids
were a rivulet
taking all my ambitions