I dream of things I hate or fear,

Of flood and fire and dragon’s wings,

That those I love just disappear, 

And myriad other hateful things.

But I also dream of unicorns,

Of stars that stud the moonlit skies,

Of fairies blowing magic horns,

Of delicate, dancing dragonflies.

I dream of worlds that must exist,

Some at night and some by day, 

I dream of being in a sylvan tryst,

Glorying in the Milky Way. 

© Caro Ness 2015  

Artist Unknown

There’s a spot that I like to go,

When troubles seem to overwhelm,

It’s where the crystal waters flow,

Over mossy stones from the fairy realm.

The river’s rumble calms my fears,

Brings me a sense of lasting peace,

And all anxiousness disappears,

As I find a sweet release.

© Caro Ness 2015 

He is my little brother

So we just go together

We support each other

No matter what the weather

So if it’s really nice and hot

We’ll sit here on the grass

And contemplate the world a lot 

Watch people as they pass

© Caro Ness 2015 

I was sad,

Sad about you and I,

We had argued,

So I took myself

For a solitary walk. 

The skies seemed to

Echo my mood,

Stormy,

Angry,

Turbulent.

And then,

As I thought more

About you and I,

Clouds,

Like puffballs,

Built and massed,

And my spirits lifted

With them.

© Caro Ness 2015 

24 May: Misty Morning http://wp.me/p2PESe-3fG via @wordpressdotcom

It was years since I’d visited

My grandfather’s farm, 

It had become inaccessible, 

The grass now grew across the road,

And the fenceposts clung to one another,

Drunkenly,

Connected by sad and futile bits of wire

A morning mist hovered,

Half-burned by the sun,

Which threw long shadows down the track.

It would have been sad,

But for the trees that lent their shade,

And crowded the path in a protective embrace, 

Returning fond snatches of memory to me

Of my grandfather’s farm.

© Caro Ness 2015 

This forest is rather remote,

So it’s  hard to stay current, afloat,

Therefore we peruse,

A book or the news,

And that, well it does float our boat! 

© Caro Ness 2015 

Driving home,

It was a long, hard journey,

Through the driving rain,

Driving home.

Then the sun broke through

The lowering cloud,

A rainbow of colour

Lit the sky,

And I became the pot of gold,

As I was driving home. 

© Caro Ness 2015 

The reeds were gilded

Like the ducks beside them

And the water

Rippling

In concentric circles

A study in sunshine

And geometry

© Caro Ness 2015 

It was a misty morning,

The sun rising,

Hard and uncompromising,

Yet somehow also gentle,

To colour the world with warmth.

© Caro Ness 2015   
 

The day was dying,

The sun setting

But the world came alive,

With fireflies intent

On brightening the semi-gloom.

© Caro Ness 2015