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Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
This is a bookmark from your life
a bookmark in mine
a piece of paper
briefly stopping time
bringing our together our stories
or else maybe a thorn
burying itself
within my heart
' Felicity', your name
means joy but can you bring me any
did you even know
he would give it to me
the glitter, single yellow feather
carefree yet placed calculatedly
upon the red background
red as your distant country's flag
I forget how old you must be now
six, I presume
you've not yet started to ask
about his life yet prior to you, your sister
& your mother
& why should you
my moon faced stranger
all fortune cookies & rice,
straddling two worlds
from birth, a similarity
that in any other life
would make me want to call you
' sister' & forgive everything
Your birth, he
did not deserve, not being a loving
man, as you will find out
once you've grown
out of being a toy
& start to rearrange
the furniture of boundaries
if you should ever find out
about us, my mother & me
& what he did
that will be the time to see
if your heart's worth loving
if so, just call me
I'm leaving you my number
in my mind
My English step-father cheated on my mother & ran off with a much younger Chinese woman & they now have two kids, I wrote this thinking of their eldest child, whose childish handmade bookmark ( which my step father gave me when he visited me for the first time after 7 years of me not talking to him) I now keep as a keepsake, wondering about my so-called step sister. I didn't have any siblings as a child & always wanted some so sometimes I think it would be good to forget the past & connect.
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
Torn newspapers
littering the sunset
idle cranes lining the guilty sky
by the glowing harbor
Open mic night
you walk in
to the room
& no-one notices
except me
& your friend
invisible, until you read
& your voice is like an epiphany
the homeless man outside
is singing a tune
perhaps
perhaps a little child
somewhere is falling asleep
in her mother's arms
perhaps somewhere
love is being found
but between us
there is only silence
& you do not even know
that it is me
in front of you
& if you did
it would be worse
because
my ragged heart
for you is something
to be scarred
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
There is a storm in my teacup
the one you've heard referred
to so often before

the neighbors want to know
what all the noise is
coming from behind my door

the lightning is fighting
with the thunder, the waves
of Earl grey crashing

on the  fine china shores
There is a storm in my teacup
I don't know what to do anymore

some say it started
with the white lies my friend told
or with me crying that I'm getting old

the tea rose up in
indignation
the sugar screamed as it fell in

this is what I want to tell the nation:
there is a storm in my teacup.
Oh well.

Oh well.
There is a phrase in England ' it's a storm in a teacup' which basically means ' someone's making a lot of noise/fuss over nothing'
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
Duke Ellington's not happy
his Satin doll's not shown up
' Hey have you seen my Satin doll?'
' Look Mister, I'm not ' Lost property'
& why don't you go & sleep it off'
' What?'
' You've got Whiskey
written all over your face, Ellington'
' Gee, ok, but could you spare a few
I need money to get home'
' I'll think about it, in the meantime,
sing me a song
'' Ok. WE WILL WE WILL ROCK YOU'
Based on a true conversation I had a while ago with a drunk ( probably homeless ) man. I thought it was funny because the idea of Duke Ellington singing  Queen's ' We will rock you' was kinda quirky. (I trust everyone knows who Duke Ellington is & one of his most famous musical compositions ' Satin Doll')
Unter den Linden is a particular stretch of Berlin, the name literally translates as ' Beneath the Linden Trees' due to the Linden trees growing there.
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
some railway station food shops
are open now,
unlike when we first moved here
when everything would shut Saturday afternoon
the flea markets in the Tiergaten & at
the Mauerpark
are over-ridden with people
selling kitsch
it's early autumn and there
are still ferries on the Havel
& Spree rivers
& a juggling act & a couple of musicians
blend in with graffiti
in the evening we'll go to the B-flat
club & listen to Australian jazz
no need to worry
if the transport runs at night
or whether the stars will shine
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
moonbeam hides
in the corner
counting it's blessings
rooks settle onto old rooves
Dreams of Sepia Sep 2015
two a.m coffee
burns my mouth, my cat purrs like
a child's wind-up toy
..
bag with old writing
packed yet I'm not going
anywhere, mother
..
the nights are no
longer young either
*hush, now, don't speak
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