Wacko Kakapo by Yvonne Morisson & Donovan Bixley

Sometimes a book has to wait to be found. It has to bide its time until the child falls in love with it. It has to put up with rejection after rejection until at long last, there is a slight stirring of interest one day that quickly morphs into an intense fascination, and then it will be as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist, for there will be only the book and the child, a little mind and a life filling up with the story and its characters and the wondrousness of it all. Until the next such book comes along.

Wacko Kakapo by Yvonne Morisson and Donovan Bixley is one such book. A retelling of “The Sky is Falling”, the book arrived at our doorstep back in May 2017, all the way from New Zealand, a gift from my dearest friend and D’s Godmother SM, when D was just a month away from turning a year old. (SM first met D when he was just a week old!) But it was only last autumn that the child came to form a relationship with the book, first loving it, then fearing parts of it, then attempting in his own way and at his own pace to move past that fear and enjoying the story.

The singsong names of the characters were what drew D to the book in the first place. Wacko Kakapo, Peewee Kiwi, None-Truer Tuatara, Go-Getter Weta, Never-Fear Kea, and Quick-as-a-Wink Skink go in search of Tane Mahuta to let her know that the sky is falling. On the way, they are tricked by Gotta-Gloat Stoat into entering his den where he plans to feast on them.

There’s a picture of Gotta-Gloat Stoat in front of a fireplace with a ladle and a pan in his hands, an evil grin plastered on his face, as he reveals to the cowering sextet what awaits them. The image reminds D of the wolf in a story of three little pigs, one with a house of hay, another with a house of sticks, and the third in the house of bricks. The wolf easily kicks down the houses of the first two pigs, who run to the third for shelter. Unable to knock down the house of bricks, the wolf sneaks in through the chimney. The third pig sets the wolf’s tail on fire that sets him flying out of the chimney and far away, saving the three little pigs.

D started to snap the book shut whenever we reached the page with the stoat and his evil grin. He said the “wolf” “scared” him. One evening, he asked KrA to read the book and hid behind him as KrA reached the much feared page.

A few such readings, and D realised that the protagonists with their tongue-twisting names defeat Gotta-Gloat Stoat and escape his den. Since then, he insisted that we start reading the story from the page that he once dreaded the most. He adores the skink, and I think this may also have something to do with the tactic that the skink employed to bring the stoat to his knees. The skink races around the stoat in tight circles, causing the skink to spin and fall down dizzy. This is something D learnt at his ex-school (a long-ago thing); he spins like a whirling dervish and stops to see the world spin around him. After the stoat falls down dizzy, Peewee Kiwi gives him a mighty kick. D attempted to kick the grinning stoat once, and I had to alternate between doubling up with laughter and discouraging him from kicking a book!

This also means that I must keep secret from D a little longer my own terrifying experiences with skinks back when we were living in Australia. Once a skink found its way into our bathroom and we spent days scouring shops for lizard-traps of the kind that were available in plenty in Singapore. No such luck! It’s probably illegal down under! On another occasion when my parents were visiting, we were about to set out for a little walk with D when we saw a huge skink on the steps outside our apartment. My father had to chase it all the way down three floors before I could muster enough courage to emerge out of our apartment with D. Obviously, now that D watches me more closely than any God does, I have learnt how to hold back my own fears so that I don’t taint his worldly experiences with my own biases and apprehensions. At some point, I do want him to spend part of his childhood in the land of his birth. But for now, I am content to live in the Great White North, away from the skinks and the snakes and the ginormous spiders of the land down under!

I also Googled “stoat”. Wikipedia says that stoats are in fact native to the northern hemisphere and were let loose in New Zealand to contain the rabbit population but turned out to be a menace to the native birds!

The alliterative names quickly got D playing with words. The other day KrA asked D to “go get your roti”, and D replied, “Go-Getter Weta!” Never-fear Kea quickly became “Nefka”, a name that SM declared was a hybrid of an ancient Egypt queen and some extra-terrestrial being. And for a while, D insisted on being addressed as “Wacko Kakapo”.

I often wonder where these thoughts pop into his head from … and then I tell myself the answer to that is also the answer to the eternal question: “Where do writers get their ideas from?” From nothing and from everything. From nowhere and from everywhere.

The 100 Day Project

  • Day 100

    We will meet again at the witching hour
    I will travel through the stars in my sky
    Till I reach the ones you see in yours
    Hopping over those twinkling diamonds of light
    I will flit into your dreams
    While you gently sleep tonight
    And sprinkle stardust into your being
    So when you wake up to a dawn, fresh and new,
    You will know to view the world
    through the delightful madness now growing within you

  • Day 99

    And this is how, slowly, gently,
    The last jagged piece of my heart falls away
    Your light now shines through me
    As if it were my own
    Revealing you in all your indescribable glory
    O so much fun it was to seek you
    Here and there and everywhere
    No go hide again
    Let me not deny other seekers
    The pleasure that is rightfully theirs

  • Day 98

    I see you in the vast blue yonder
    My journey now almost come to an end
    I should be ecstatic, I have found you at last
    My reward for these endless meanderings
    Then why am I sad?
    A deep sense of loss engulfs me
    For everything familiar I am leaving behind
    Now I am afraid to find out
    What did I really love more?
    You? Or my illusory longing?

  • Day 97

    I look at you and wonder
    Were you naughty when you were younger?
    Did you look up at the clouds
    and see elephants and dinosaurs?
    Did you lie awake at night
    and trace the constellations with your fingers?
    Did you cry when you hurt
    or were you taught to hold back your tears?
    Every little detail I want to learn about you
    But one lifetime is not enough to reveal all the answers

  • Day 96

    So much have I written and said
    Now I am drowning in the din of my own verses
    And my heart, like a raging volcano,
    wants to spew more poetry
    So I simply reach in and rip her out
    There, now I can hear nothing but your silence
    And I have never felt more alive

  • Day 95

    I have been awfully good this year
    Look at all the poetry I wrote
    With little regard for rhyme and reason, I admit
    Surely you will not hold that against me now, will you?
    That is a concession you must allow me
    For how can there not be madness
    When all year I have been carrying two thumping hearts
    Within this frail being of mine

  • Day 94

    I remember this day
    It came last year too
    And all the years before
    Each time it unfolds
    in a comically identical way
    Fireworks and promises, the whole shebang
    The only difference is made
    by all the moments in between
    that slip by without recognition or warning

  • Day 93

    You are the vast, endless ocean
    And I am restless as the stream
    Weary of its relentless journey from the mountaintop
    I tumble towards you in frenzied haste
    Anxious to empty myself into your being
    Now that I know how limitless your existence is
    I will no longer be confined to my petty boundaries

  • Day 92

    Now that I have found you
    What need have I for vapid words?
    I am one with the roses in your garden
    How can I speak of their beauty with sincerity?
    My heart throbs in the tender chest of the nightingale
    How can I be the one to sing of her dulcet tunes?
    But am I not then ungrateful
    to shun the very path
    that has led me all the way to your door?

  • Day 91

    All the strange things happen
    in the forbidden darkness of the night
    Because no one believes what the moon conceals
    In the shadows cast by her pilfered light

  • Day 90

    Like rusty tracks we run forever,
    Alongside each other,
    Like arm's-length lovers,
    Alone even when we are together ...

  • Day 89

    When darkness closes in upon you
    And you stumble over your own shadow,
    When doubt and fear become your plight,
    I will stand there as a guiding light,
    Or lurk behind you as a strange creature of the night ...

  • Day 88

    What would I ever do
    without you, I cry
    Why would you ever be
    without me, comes your reply

  • Day 87

    This game we play
    In which you hide and I seek
    As if I am looking for a star in the night sky
    I see you everywhere I go
    And I think, you are so clever
    Surely you won't be found so easily, not even in jest
    Or is that just a notion my mind has made up
    So it can take some foolish pride in this delightful quest?

  • Day 86

    The tree is up
    Holding all the frosted glass baubles
    Filled with oversized hopes and desires
    Drape her in bright tinsel and fairy lights
    So when the stars peep in through your window tonight
    They will learn of all the secret things
    you have wished for this year

  • Day 85

    Happiness comes riding on the breeze
    Settles gently on the window sill
    Soft to the touch, a delicate feather
    I ought to know better
    than to reach out and grab her
    She will not be made to stay for long
    It is up to me to fall into step
    And learn her inebriated dance

  • Day 84

    Occasionally the wind drops
    The trees stand still, nearly lifeless
    Even the birds know not to shatter the silence
    The waves settle, the ocean is a creaseless sheet of blue
    For their spirits have momentarily trooped away
    Into hidden shadows and secret tree hollows
    Where they write the poems I will soon sing for you

  • Day 83

    An empty space sits heavy on my chest
    Sounds knows not how to traverse this barrenness
    So the unspoken words remain pressed within my heart
    Their clamour so loud
    I can no longer hear you calling out my name

  • Day 82

    Your voice is composed of all the obscure notes
    That no instrument can play
    Sweeter than the cry of the Indian koel
    Calling for his lover in the heat of May
    Your song rides unexpectedly on angel wings
    The melody gone before I can discern it
    And only my eager heart grasps and treasures
    All the bewitching verses you sing

  • Day 81

    … Night after night,
    The restless waters
    break up the face of the moon
    into a jillion smithereens of silver
    … They steal the fragments
    And tuck them into oysters
    In a place where darkness
    gobbles up the light
    … One night the moon fades away leaving no trace
    And the sea regrets his folly
    So he lures her back a few slivers at a time
    And we helplessly watch the moon shape-shift until eternity

  • Day 80

    The very thought of you makes me soar
    I transcend the invisible boundaries of this world
    Nothing can weigh me down now
    Light as a feather I drift
    Wherever the breeze blows me
    Everybody thinks I am a vagabond
    Aimlessly lost in some psychedelic haze
    But only I know you have instructed the wind
    To gently guide me to your abode
    And bring me to rest in your soothing embrace

  • Day 79

    O there was so much I wanted to tell you
    I penned these songs by moonlight
    Fussed over each verse, each melody
    For every little thing had to be perfectly right
    But the first sight of you renders me speechless
    All my songs quickly desert me,
    Those traitors, how unworthy of you they proved,
    I am ashamed,
    So now in this eternal span of silence
    The only music I have is the tuneless pulse of my silly heart
    Who still wants to sing only for your attention

  • Day 78

    And should I ever run out
    of things to say to you
    Remind me not to fade away
    behind a veil of silence
    But to make things up and tell tall tales
    To spin stories from flax-golden yarn
    To peddle a few dreams
    for you to remember me by
    Long after my sojourn in this world
    has come to an end

  • Day 77

    If there is only wish you will grant me
    Then make me so small
    There will be room only for you
    in my world, now so tiny
    And no other desire shall dare slip past you
    To seek refuge in me

  • Day 76

    How strange it is that I pine for you
    So much, when we haven’t even met
    But I know how beautiful your face is
    How your music reverberates through my breath
    Could it be you were once
    an inseparable part of me
    Cleaved from my soul
    when I turned my attention away from you
    And now all that remains of you in me
    Is this inexplicable love
    gushing from the fractured heart?

  • Day 75

    There were parts of me I wanted to hide
    But even the bluest oceans were not
    deep enough for me to bury my secrets
    And then you came along
    Resplendent, bearing a light of your own
    And you show so brightly on me
    The world has now become blind to all my imperfections

  • Day 74

    Like smoke and fire
    Never one without the other
    We leap together in a playful dance
    When your proud flames leap skywards
    I come into being only in your presence
    And when you perish
    in the dying embers of a festive bonfire
    I too gladly cease to exist

  • Day 73

    Now that the last of the autumn leaves has fallen
    The sky is shattered by grief,
    It crumbles into flakes of frozen tears
    That fall swiftly to the ground,
    all its million pieces
    To lay its friends to rest
    under a white blanket
    A warm grave to last all winter

  • Day 72

    I run to your altar, my heart set aflame,
    By a thousand desires burning in me for fulfilment
    All it takes is one look at your beatific face
    For me to shed my longings
    Like drops of water slipping off a lotus leaf
    And I wonder, what need I ever had for anything
    other than to nestle in your reassuring grace

  • Day 71

    In your unconditional love I bloom,
    A rose just made aware of her beauty,
    And now that is all I know, to blossom so fervently
    You can smell the scent of my heart from afar
    And should I wilt before you return
    Preserve me not between sheaves of your poetry
    Crush my remains instead,
    so I can sublime away in the air around you
    And wrap your being in my tender fragrance

  • Day 70

    I am looking for you in the skies
    Which one of these twinkling stars are you?
    I am looking for you in the woods
    Tell me, which one of those exotic wildflowers are you?

    My bewilderment amuses you
    Why only one of those, you say,
    Come find me in all of this world,
    Imagine me in any shape, in any form, you offer.

    O my beloved, but grant me not such trespasses
    For my imagination can do no justice to your beauty

  • Day 69

    The mist rolls in from the seas
    Bearing secrets from distant lands
    The waters help them carry their burden
    Drowning whispers in the ocean’s roar
    Mysteries strewn in the glistening sand
    Hush now, put a seashell to your ear, and listen
    To the sound of time passing you by

  • Day 68

    How easily does darkness exist
    in the realms of outer space
    in the depths of the ocean
    buried under the aches of a troubled heart
    But the light, when it comes,
    is always from a source
    that burns unto itself
    then falls apart like a shooting star

  • Day 67

    Our words fall
    Like the last of the autumn leaves
    And are quickly buried in the snow
    Winter is always so long
    By the time spring comes around
    The fallen words are forgotten
    The untold stories have changed
    And so have you, and so have I

  • Day 66

    This is the thing about roads
    And the quest for truth
    The roads have no beginning, no end
    It is me and my journeys that are bound
    Within the confines of space and time
    Like the roads, the truth is there is no truth
    My quest exists only to give my life some placatory meaning

  • Day 65

    O rising sun,
    How you set the ocean on fire
    Even the dull taupe sand at my feet
    Glitters unabashedly like gold
    And I wonder, if I laid bare to you
    all the precious secrets of my heart
    Will you please make it shine a little more
    As if stardust were sprinkled on my soul?

  • Day 64

    All the times I had love
    I never quite knew what it was
    Now that I have let it go in my carelessness
    I know what it is only through its loss
    Love has a way of finding us through time and space
    But this time would I remember to cherish it?

  • Day 63

    In this search for stillness
    I yearn to be like the sun, unwavering,
    Unmoved by the turmoil of planets around him
    But in truth I am like the moon
    The restless shape-shifter, truth-obscurer,
    Protector of lovers and thieves and cowards
    How can I be like the sun
    when even my light is not my own?

  • Day 62

    When I stand by the shores
    All I see is the endless ocean
    So I return home and look out the window
    Brown tiles of the Jones’s house
    Yield into a small patch of sky
    That I have to crane my neck to see
    But there I also find rainbow swings,
    Elves at work, pixie dust, mermaid fins
    And all the beautiful things I see in my mind’s eye

  • Day 61

    Sometimes even the seas and skies
    would press upon my chest
    with all their weight
    The stars and the infinite galaxies
    Their black boundaries
    would close in on me
    And when I yearned to run away
    it seemed there was nowhere left to go
    But now I know the world is
    only as large or small
    As my little heart imagines it to be

  • Day 60

    It must be that I spend far too long in winter
    The cold has my heart in its icy clutch
    Pressing inside my chest
    with its frozen gnarled fingers
    Now that the summer sun in here
    You’d think my fears would melt away
    But even the slightest breeze
    knows well how to make me shudder

  • Day 59

    Even the wind howls on occasion
    Worrying the clouds and the treetops
    The ocean groans, in deep guttural sounds
    The sun fades,
    an old silver coin pressed into the colourless sky
    But we mistake their anguish for fury
    Or is it a convenient lie we tell ourselves?
    For we know only too well
    Anger subsides sooner or later
    But grief only lingers on

  • Day 58

    What good is a diamond without its rough
    Or a pretty star without its black night?
    You cannot look the sun in the eye
    Without the cover of clouds he shines just too bright
    Is not the lotus adored for the murky depths she springs from
    Or the rose made more beautiful by her thorns?
    So too my darkness will be the fertile soil
    From which my divinity is born

  • Day 57

    All the wise men told me
    To shush my boisterous mind
    And trust the tiny voice of my heart
    to guide the way
    But look where that has got me
    To raw wounds and broken songs
    So blame me not should I wonder
    If it were my heart or the wise men
    that led me astray

  • Day 56

    The grains of sand, they cling to my feet,
    The waves wash them away
    And then I make my way across the shore
    Tiptoeing on the sand,
    But the grains, oh so annoying,
    They cling to my feet once more
    So I hurry back home to run a warm bath
    Lay myself in it, my feet clean, free of the pesky sand,
    Now I can reminisce about the golden beach and the ocean’s roar

  • Day 55

    This room of mine is bereft of windows
    So on the ceiling I have painted
    my personal patch of sky
    Azure in one corner, ebony in another,
    A place for night stars and dainty fairies to fly
    Just as they do in the dreams
    I see behind closed eyes
    So when I wake up in this windowless world
    I will look up and know my happiness wasn’t a lie

  • Day 54

    There are all these memories
    Jostling for space in my little head
    More gather at the threshold, waiting to be let in
    Reminders of every little thing once done and said,
    And so I weed out the bad ones from the good,
    Clear more space for the happier thoughts
    Maybe this would make the past in my head
    A lot happier than it truly was

  • Day 53

    Like the waves of the sea, cresting from afar
    I rise and fall, again and again
    To the silent rhythm of my trance
    All for a momentary glimpse of you,
    standing by the shore,
    Until I wash up at your feet,
    buoyed by my inebriated dance

  • Day 52

    There was a time my soul would bleed
    Into the songs I wrote for you
    But now you are gone
    Swifter than a memory fading into the past
    And it is hard to believe
    my heart once knew how to love

  • Day 51

    O little bird
    Come sing to me your sweetest song
    A song of all the days gone by
    Of dewdrop dreams and lovers’ sighs
    For in all my travels around the world
    I have left pieces of my heart behind
    In places that I may never return to
    And I need something to remember them by

  • Day 50

    The journey ahead is only as long
    as the paths we’ve left behind
    But now my boots are muddy,
    my limbs sore
    My breath is short and catches in my throat
    The sun blinds my eyes,
    The woods close in upon me
    And I stumble on in an endless loop
    So forgive me if my words collapse in between lines
    And float around like alphabets in your soup

  • Day 49

    Like a vagabond, I have scoured this earth
    Looking for a place
    That will cure my heart of its restlessness
    But now I fear such a place does not exist
    Except in the hidden recesses of my mind
    And I can do little else but write about it

  • Day 48

    Like crepuscular rays
    that pierce the sleepy clouds
    Or moonlight beams
    that light up headstones in the dark
    Like the sliver of light
    that escapes closed doors
    There are dreams that lurk
    in hidden alleyways and forgotten shadows
    Simply another of those things
    that somehow fell through the cracks

  • Day 47

    Shadows flicker on your face
    in restless anticipation
    Happiness floats above the warm candlelight
    Your eyelashes tremble,
    clinging on to the wish that is taking shape
    Come now, blow out the candles
    The momentary plunge into the dark
    will give your wishes a good place to start

  • Day 46

    Look not into my shallow mind
    A million thoughts crease its surface
    And shatter every reflection of yours
    But come, peer into my heart,
    It waits, still and clear,
    like a silver-backed mirror
    Come and look just how beautiful you are

  • Day 45

    A faint mewl rises
    from the earth below
    No cat can wail like that,
    but I know a bird that does
    Bluebirds peal in the distance,
    too early for churchgoers
    And there is that hysterical laugh again
    Is it a madman, or a kookaburra?
    Oh, I need a Shazam for the songs of nature

  • Day 44

    Another day is soaked up by the night
    Darkness shields the shadows lurking in my land
    But tiny dots of light speckle the regions beyond
    Like gleaming crystals hidden in the grainy sand

  • Day 43

    Twilight sweeps over the dark shadows
    That cease to linger in its wake
    The curtains fall on yet another day
    As night takes over for darkness’ sake

  • Day 42

    You may not love me tomorrow
    But you do today
    Is that not enough? You admonish me
    Then teach me to lose myself in the here and now
    So I may stretch this moment of your love
    To last an eternity

  • Day 41

    Just as the endless silence
    carries the longest echoes
    And the gravest secrets ride
    on the back of whispers
    So too the bearer of love in the heart
    That is lighter than a tiny bird’s feather

  • Day 40

    A walk home past the beach in the dark
    The taste of the salty air on my tongue
    The music of the waves crashing upon the shores
    All my rewards for a long day of jobs well done

  • Day 39

    There is a reason the skies are vast,
    the oceans boundless,
    and the mountains proudly tall
    It is to make all our heartaches and worries
    appear piteously small

  • Day 38

    I run from afar and race with dawn
    My pace is quickened by my greed
    To soak up all your morning light
    But sitting by the shores are your devotees
    Who have waited through a sleepless night
    To be drenched in your golden sunshine
    And I know theirs is the greater need

  • Day 37

    My heart flings herself
    against the cage of my chest
    And clamours for your attention
    I shush her, but to no avail
    She has long ceased to be mine
    Won’t you look after what is rightfully yours?
    Else, teach her to be in two places at once

  • Day 36

    Look how gently the sun slips
    behind the shadows of the night
    How daintily the moon glides forth
    ostentatiously decked in stolen light
    And when dawn breaks, hers is a graceful retreat
    For even in their eternal war, there is peace

  • Day 35

    Some I have stashed in a shoebox in the attic
    Some others are tucked between pages of my favourite books
    A few I have carelessly lost along the way, I am sorry
    But the one I can never forget
    Is the first love note you ever wrote to me

  • Day 34

    I dove into the depths of your world
    To reach the treasure bed of oysters
    And there I found your precious pearls
    The ones that blot out the light of the sun

  • Day 33

    My depths are immersed in your blues and grass
    My waters race to kiss you at the horizon
    So when the seekers stand at my shores
    Quiet and still in the face of our love
    They know not where the ocean ends,
    and where the sky begins

  • Day 32

    And then there are days
    When the words simply won’t come your way
    No poetry to ease the pain
    No lyrics to lift your spirits high
    And all you can do is sink into the earth,
    Close your eyes, and imagine you can fly

  • Day 31

    Like a planet orbiting the sun
    I spin round and round, all around you
    Ecstatic like the whirling dervish
    So eager am I to fill you with joy
    I will grow wings and hover like an angel
    Your wish shall be my every command
    For you are the only God I worship

  • Day 30

    My poetry is
    all the words strung together
    often with emotion
    but sometimes with silent spaces in between
    where the unspoken words reside

  • Day 29

    Now I see you
    With the fuzzy sight of the intoxicated
    An obscure view
    Through a rain-streaked window
    Vague, unclear,
    Like the explanations you left behind for me

  • Day 28

    When darkness settles on our paths like dust
    And the owl’s hoot pierces the sleepy skies
    My world glides to a gentle halt
    Nothing can stir me now
    But the melody of your voice
    humming my favourite lullabies

  • Day 27

    My heart is sinking
    Weighed down by its own sorrow
    For all the words strung together
    Are burdened by their own meaning
    And fail to promise hope for the morrow

  • Day 26

    The more I learn to love
    The more I cease to exist
    All that remains is an empty nothingness
    Like the hollow of a bamboo flute
    I wait for your lips to brush against mine
    And compose the melody I am meant to become

  • Day 25

    Like the butterfly that leaves behind
    her delicate colours on my skin
    Your love has freckled my soul
    with indelible imprints
    And now my heart will pay heed
    to no voice but yours

  • Day 24

    I trace your mouth with my eager lips
    Our breaths mingle and dance skywards
    Like tiny slivers of our souls
    Drifting together in the misty air

  • Day 23

    All too often we remember
    How the story ends
    But can barely recall
    How it all began
    So we conjure up plots and twists
    For it to all make sense
    And by our own madness
    We are unwittingly entertained

  • Day 22

    Oh Death, you must love me so much
    How patiently you wait, biding your time
    As I go about my wayward life, untethered
    How can such love ever go unrequited
    And so when the time comes, I shall run into your arms
    Bearing the gift of a life fearlessly lived

  • Day 21

    Mine is the world of make-believe
    Of half-truths and illusions
    All smoke and mirrors,
    Of legerdemains and delusions
    There is magic, no doubt
    But that makes it not untrue
    For your truths rise from what has been
    And mine soar from the artist’s dream

  • Day 20

    He makes up stories
    Tells terribly tall tales
    He twists and bends words out of shape
    Then strings them together
    He creates new worlds, alters reality
    Tricks me with a clever sleight of hand
    I think he must be the most skilled magician
    Or just a very eloquent liar

  • Day 19

    You are the song I play
    On repeat mode, in an endless loop
    I have committed to memory
    Your every note and refrain
    Each lilt and beat of you is familiar to me
    As the rhythm of my own breath
    My body sways to your tune, effortlessly
    So I hit Play. Then Rewind. Again and again.

  • Day 18

    On grey cobblestoned streets
    By the banks of endless rivers
    They peddle lover’s breath and baby socks,
    Moonlight beams and foxes’ whispers
    Dreams of rainbow colours, love in a bottle,
    Even hope from the bottom of Pandora’s box

  • Day 17

    You cross
    I scribble a nought
    Cross, then a nought,
    You cross, then drag a line,
    Is the game over?
    Or will you play again?
    I like it when you win,
    For what’s yours is also mine

  • Day 16

    Lying awake on a sleepless night
    I sift through my memories for some solace
    And try to piece together in my mind
    The hazy contours of your forgotten face
    And sometimes I remember who you really were
    Not merely who I wanted you to be

  • Day 15

    Precious moments of time scattered through the day
    Like little beads of silver and gold
    Stitched onto a patchwork quilt for the night
    So we can shape our dreams into its folds …

  • Day 14

    Thoughts pressed beneath the creases on your forehead
    Questions lurking voicelessly on your lips
    Secrets tucked into the folds of your skin
    I reach out to unravel you
    Only to lose myself in the maze you hide within

  • Day 13

    No sheets of satin for her
    No scented candles, no kisses in the moonlight,
    Her’s is the tale of hasty encounters
    Of cheap thrills under neon lights
    Of strange men who slip in through the back door
    And pretend to be her lover for a night

  • Day 12

    Mine is not to be the lone star
    Mine is not to shine the brightest of them all
    like that of a million others,
    is to play my part really well
    In keeping the blackness
    pinned to the skies above after nightfall

  • Day 11

    There is a hollow at the base of my throat
    That wells up at the memory of you
    Where grief gathers, uninvited,
    And unspoken words lose their way
    From where even the warmest scarves
    Fail to keep the winter chill away

  • Day 10

    The dots lie scattered
    farther than the eye can see
    Skip from one step to the next
    Take baby steps, or leap over giant walls
    For when you look back
    You know you will clearly see
    The mysterious line
    that connects them all

  • Day 9

    You are a treasure chest
    Sunk to the bottom of the ocean
    The burden of your loot too heavy to bear
    How much longer will you carry within
    The only key to unlock yourself?

  • Day 8

    Like orphaned shards of broken glass
    Your heart lies in a million pieces and one
    But scoop them all into a kaleidoscope
    And see how beautiful you grow at every turn

  • Day 7

    We dance through time and space
    As if on a tricksy tightrope walk
    Imagination morphing into memory
    One step in the future, another in the past

  • Day 6

    I etched my poetry on grains of sand
    But the ocean lured all the words away
    Perhaps, like a message in a bottle
    My verses will wash up on your shores some day

  • Day 5

    Where the nights are sleepless
    And the stars restless
    Blinking in the Stygian skies
    There, under the watchful gaze
    of the shape-shifting moon
    is where the unfinished stories lie...

  • Day 4

    Your voice warms my soul like golden sunshine
    Your melody washes over me like a psychedelic dream
    Your verses are etched on my heart
    Deeper than the lines on my palm
    I hear you from afar
    For it is your song I have become

  • Day 3

    Yours is the song of the wilderness
    The ecstatic dance of the untethered
    So long by doubt and fear
    your spirit remains unfettered

  • Day 2

    I am the dream you see
    with eyes shut tight,
    I am the dream that dies
    when you wake to the morning light.

  • Day 1

    Thunder roars like an angry lioness
    Lightning cracks like a rider's whip
    Look! A camera in the skies
    I bet the Gods have brought out their selfie sticks

About Me

I am just an imagination, A respite from the present's realm, Far away from this day's heartaches, I seek shelter in tomorrow's shattered dreams...

Creative Commons License

Creative Commons License

Dream Pedlar's Writings by Dream Pedlar is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.