It hunches forward, jutting into the skyline
its skeletal legs
flexing;
spine digging into the rock face.
Memories of soldiers, powdered
dust particles
swept in the winds;
to settle outside city walls.
Eyes yawning, sleep encrusted
like those of beady, black spiders
that harbour
-secrets of its own.
I think about my favourite things
and the places I want to go
of Roald Dahl and his witches
of mice and candy shops,
I think about the castles
and the dragons guarding gold
of girls with ruby slippers
and yellow brick roads.
Ladies waltzing;
chariots lined with silk
I think of heroic lions
pacingĀ the heart of battle,
of exotic lands and wooden ships
flying stealthily over sand
of tea parties and white rabbits
and the magic of talking books.
Of mysterious black eyed ravens
and winning silver arrows
of lost Peter Rabbits
and wizards deflecting spells,
I think of all these things
and the pages swiftly past
but most of all the friends I meet
that will forever last.
Copyright Ā© 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
“Live for a while in the books you love. Learn from them what is worth learning, but above all love them….Whatever your life may become, these books -of this I am certain- will weave through the web of your unfolding. They will be among the strongest of all threads of your experiences, disappointments, and joys.”
– R. M. Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
My bare feet
fit the groove of worn boards
sapphire, azure,
trailing my fingers through the midnight shimmer
of soft, lulling waves.
Bathed in the rising vapours of
a swirling mist,
it signals the army of spirits;
riders on horseback
dancing on electric blue scales.
Mountain tops like distant shadows of
ice castles in the clouds
and trees like cauliflower,
that spring as tufts of a newborn’s hair
over the silhouette of a valley touched-
in shades of blue.
Copyright Ā© 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
Dirt flecks spew the ground as I
dash through the puddles
like rivers that seep on tarmac,
water moulds my skin;
a black lava
mirroring the growling sky above.
My limbs flail through
a moment of stillness
as raindrops shudder,
waiting for that beam
of sunlight to illuminate
all in sparkling white and gold.
Dissolving into grey,
raining dust
as the heavens split their seams
humouring the belly
of a carnivorous beast
as the light fades.
Copyright Ā© 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
Ā© Adriana Varela Photography
āFairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.ā
~G.K Chesterton
I believe people are like parcels.
They start off nicely wrapped and taped
stamped with fresh ink;
destination marked in black biro.
Some are dropped from the van
others get crushed
as they leave the sorting office.
Scuffed on the floor
kicked and dented as their tape unravels;
words smudged
lying in a poolĀ of rainwater.
Some donāt reach their destination
and countless are lostĀ in transit.
The parcelĀ that arrives at the end of its journey
is stronger;
branded with battle scars.
Copyright Ā© 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
Her face was like Athens.
It was Rome, Alexandria, London.
It was the changing seasons, flashing amber, scarlet;
the colour of the sun.
Fluttering;
like the moth eaten pages of a journal
faded, yellowed; long exposed,
yearning for clarity.
Copyright Ā© 2014 by Kate W J White (All Rights Reserved)
Going Home
They say there’s a place where dreams have all gone
They never said where but I think I know
It’s miles through the night just over the dawn
On the road that will take me home
I know in my bones, I’ve been here before
The ground feels the same though the land’s been torn
I’ve a long way to go the stars tell me so
On this road that will take me home
Love waits for me ’round the bend, leads me endlessly on
Surely sorrows shall find their end and all our troubles will be gone
And I’ll know what I’ve lost and all that I’ve won
When the road finally takes me home
And when I pass by, don’t lead me astray
Don’t try to stop me, don’t stand in my way
I’m bound for the hills where cool waters flow
On this road that will take me home
~ Mary FahlĀ
All through my life these words have followed me, and sometimes I find myself repeating them due to the comfort they bring. Hopefully we will find this place, or at leastĀ have something closest to it, that we can call home.
Katewjwhite 