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You hear people talking. White noise so comforting. But what about the sounds. Those that really ground. Nails on a chalk board. The screeching of a bird. The droning of a Hoover.
A leaden sky and a watery palette of wind whipped greys. Shuttered in, cocooned by warmth, the food, the conversation, oblivious to the snow falling silently outside.
Butterflies floated and twirled in the wind, Then landed on a welcoming flower. Autumn leaves gracefully fell to the ground, To be lost in a sea of gold and brown.
Even as you enter, The room Hums And the music Flows. Even as you enter With your Disturbing steps.
Slurry slurry everywhere It's all that I can smell, Hanging thickly in the air Choking, this is hell.
The sunlight twinkles on the waves, To the sun I am a slave. I'll let it embrace me all day long, Listening to the summer's sweet song.
Simple pleasures: The sun on bare feet Laughing uncontrollably Clean bed sheets & blue sky Writing for you Writing for me A full fridge A smile from my son A good book Winter rugby match Watching...
Wine is sunshine in a glass. The most succulent of tastes. It dances across your tongue, sending taste buds shivering. The depth of the bold reds, the delights of a crisp white.
As I swell in sweet delight, my eyes watering, my tongue lifting, my heart calm and tight, I find myself in wonderous landscapes, of color and might.
Mustn't it feel so free to fly. To feel the cool breeze blowing onto your face. To see the world from a different view. To hear the sounds of the ever changing winds.
the fireworks begin. thundering through the night. flashes and pops of sparkling light. brilliance reflecting through the night sky. leaving the images in one's closed eye.
With fancy lotions,. and sweet-smelling potions,. with glorious bubbles big,. enough to contain a pig,. with fizzes and pops,. the sharp scent of lemon drops,. with technicolour swirls,.
Wild fortunes and a travellers tales, Trekking across the country dales, from south to west to north to east from butterfly to savage beast The changing tides and moody weather The rippling river and...
It's soft and slow, touches more places than most, Drenches you to the bone. Summer rain soaks my soul.
Whilst I lay in bed, inside my little caravan by the sea. Sometimes the sea likes to speak to me. It's as if a thousand lions. Have been devoured by the sea.
A time of celebration. A time of wonder. I sparkle as the sun. In couragous celebration. The flowers are blooming. I see my rose, all in bloom. This beauty. This calm. This is one to be cherished.
“Wake up. Wake up, or you’ll be late to school!” the voice said. Whose voice is this he thought. He didn’t have any time to interpret what exactly was happening, just the fact he was cold.
Times are pretty good wondering through the woods. Loose mud and decaying leaves beneath my aching feet. Worms and insects burrow tunnels, homes and supply roots.
It can take but the creak of a stair; The light pad of a footstep; The clearing of a throat; The opening of a draw.
The sounds in the evening Go all through the house, The click of the clock And the pick of the mouse, The footsteps of people Upon the top floor, The skirts of my mother That brush by the door, The...
Dreamlike, the morning comes, I imagine who is awake on those rabbit runs, Light streams through, I feel my warm skin as it gleams, I open my eyes and uncover colour amidst the whitish creams: Pale...
Once I’m in my bubble bath I like to stir up more. Half the suds go in my eyes And half go on the floor.
Chapter 2. Sight 1. When she woke up he was gone, not meaning he's never coming back, just that he was simply not there.
I sit and listen to the rain patter on my window. Feeling all snug and warm inside. The pattering is soft for a while. Then there are moments when it's loud. It's like a musical of raindrops.