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POEMS Storyteller

The Evolution of Colour

Purple clouds across gray skies

Silver raindrops crashing off red volcanic soil

Green leaves crying crystal drops

Yellow beams turns into bridesmaid orange

powder blue botanical turns into funeral brown

Multicoloured polka dots

Devolve into mud tones

Plaid rainbow of earth tones

Gold turns into brown sparks

It all dissolves into midnight blue

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Storyteller

Another Sunday Spot

Ahhhh, just to sit among the bushes and shrubbery, no ocean, no seagulls, no fishing boats. Just the scent of the volcanic soil, a black and white rabbit that stood at the trunk of a small tree watching you, suspicious of your motives. Butterflies perched lazily on leaves, their multicoloured wings fluttering as a gentle gust of wind swept through the trees.  Small birds whistled in the tree lines, a donkey brayed in the distance,  an army of ants marched across the fallen branch, the smell of sugar cane from the plantation just beyond the valley, the sky changes from morning gray to mid morning gold. Yes man, life is an endless summer on a tropical island.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Chill Day

Ahhh its Sunday, I may try to do what the butterflies do, camouflage myself in the rainbow of colours, Rest on a branch and let the wind bounce off me, let the sun bake me into a comfortable warm, what humming birds flutter around the core of flowers. Yeah man, its a great day to be a tropical butterfly.

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POEMS Storyteller

Her Smile

Her Smile

When I lay down to sleep
There is this colour that lingers in my head
Through the darkness, up to the ceiling
Across the floor, up the wall
Sparkling off the glass, outside the window
But I don’t mind, I can lay here all night
In this daze, my souk stuck in the last moment of my day
She smiles and my world is like sunset yellow

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Stories Storyteller

Easter is Kite time

Easter is Kite time

Easter, what a fun time, what with the cross buns, the beach parties, and yes, the procession that the Catholic church put on. The children would wear white and the priest would be at the head of the procession, swinging what looked like an ern with smoke bellowing out of it. I never really understood all of it, but hey, it was fun to watch. However, the best part of Easter is the kites, I tell you what, we used to make some real fancy kites so we could outdo each other. We would use the center of the coconut leaves, you know, the part like a thin stick in the middle of a coconut leaf, well we called that a flex, and that is what we make our kites with. Man you should see the colourful paper we used on them kites, real pretty for so. I mean yellow, red, green, blue, white, I mean the whole sky will light up with colours. Some of the older boys used bamboo to make their kits, they would make them real big too, I remember being at the pasture and a big boy had his kite up in the air, it was soaring I tell you, anyway he asked me to hold it for him and before you knew, it I was being dragged across the pasture, damn kite was to big for me to handle, I was screaming real loud. my mouth opened so wide I felt the wind blowing in there. So picture this, skinny needle thin boy, sliding across the field, and a group of ten boys running after screaming. We would have kite fights, the tail of our kites would be made from torn up sheets, every year Mommy Charles used to warn us not to use she good sheets, anyway, we put razor blades on the kites tail and try to cut each others string with it, boy I tell you, a lot of fist fights resulted from the kite fights. but boy we had fun, running in the pasture with the kites following, yanking on the string so your kite will dance in the wind for a second, then dipped, looking like a bull about to attack. Then when it was all over, you could save the frame of the kite until next Easter came along.

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Somewhere in a Valley

Somewhere in a Valley

In the rolling hills
Amongst the trees, bushes and branches
Next to the stream with colourful rocks
In one specific valley
There is a pot of gold waiting

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Storyteller

Too Tall

Too Tall

Lesson learned, never walk and talk to a short person, they can walk right under doorways, MY SEVEN FOOT FRAME CAN’T!!!!!!!!! LOL. I saw really colourful stars, then the stinging pain on my forehead. Ohhhh the perils of a giant.

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Pics with verse

Time Stopped

Time Stopped

In mid air I float majestically colourful
A verse in motion
A moment in awe

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POEMS Storyteller

Refugee

Every day she fights death
Its promise of peace and quiet
Its offer of being a perfect human being
Every night she sees its red beady eyes
They hover over her like a vulture
Only this vulture is white
Gleaming with false promises
She reaches out and takes it
And slowly pulls it to her mouth
The closer it gets, its form and colour changes
From white to black, two red eyes to one dark eye
The single eye disappear into her mouth
She can feel its cold beak against her tongue
Ahhh, the taste of death pending
Now that’s a familiar feeling
Her heart is racing
Her breath comes in short bursts
Its like that feeling right before orgasm
He he he he he, yeah
Take her to the cloud with the river of milk
Cuddle with her until she is still
Comfort her while her thoughts eat away at her soul
Bury her in a casket full of love and compassion
Bless her with your bible of half truths
Bathe her with your holy water
Watch it turn to blood as it drips down her body
Hmmmmmahhhhh, drain the unhappiness from her spirit
Make her feel no more, make her feel no more