Little red hats, singlets and shorts
Walking in thongs along the port.
Standing together in candlelight
Caroling with friends into the night.
Raising a glass and spreading cheer
Fingers cling to ice cold beers.
Shrimp skewers sizzle on the grill
Accompanied by sautéed krill.
Southern climes can be a lot to bear
When gathering for an English fare.
Hot roast turkey with all the trimmings
Some veg but lots of stuffing.
Feeling the heat inside and out
That’s what our Christmas is all about.
In the forest, beneath the tree’s shadow
A lost young girl snuggles into the dark
Embracing the cold she pulls her cloak on
Hypnotized by the tall handsome vampire
His hungry eyes lingering at the mark
burnt onto her skin when she met her doom.
Many nights have passed since he met his doom
His twisted wicked past leaves a shadow.
Etched into his soul, an eternal mark,
A reminder of days before the dark.
A child of the night he is a vampire
He doesn’t sleep, he is always turned on.
There is no blame, no one to put it on.
The morning light will always be their doom.
Blood bonds them, united as vampires
Roaming the night, living in the shadow
Guided by the moon, dancing in the dark
Children of the night, evil has left its mark.
Time has a habit of growing that mark
The moonlight is all they can depend on
Paving their fate as creatures of the dark
Haunted by the memories of their doom
Their mortal selves dead in the shadows
Their souls succumb to the kings of vampires.
Lessons are learnt from her master vampire
She ventures through the night to make her mark
performing her dance in the forest shadow
with only her charm and wits to rely on
she brings the next mortal to their doom
as eternal beings of the shadows.
A mark is left when we fall to the dark
Our inner vampire takes nightmares to build on
Here we meet our doom and succumb to the shadows.
Summer storms through the silly season
And I am my own fashion treason.
Asleep in my hoodie and flip flops,
Cropped leggings and blue Whovian top.
At my desk the universe lights up
But a first thing first, where’s my Garfield cup?
On my phone is a little image
So my sleepy eyes start to scrimmage.
An old photo of a time and place
Where five girls are caught in an embrace.
They look up at me from yesterday
Far. Far, away from this port side bay.
Those were the days of Pimms and flowers,
Best friends, and summer showers.
Gone are those days of dancing till dawn,
Getting drunk, waking up on the lawn.
No we’re closer to the big 3-0
Alarm clocks and coffee run the show
Dancing along the trapeze of life
As friend, worker, mother, sister, wife…
The world has spun a few times or more
Since I was last knocking at your door
But no matter how far we all roam
That time, that place, will always be home.
Sitting under a southern sky
soaking up the tranquil day
I watch the world pass me by
from the city by the bay.
The sky is the bluest blue
and the trees burst out in song.
The natives drink their home brew
in the land that they belong.
Stickiness and ickyness
there is nothing we can do
The end is anyones guess
and we do not have a clue.
So grab your sunnies and your hats,
and head on down to the coast.
Here it is, summers back
and we’re all about to roast!
One grey day on the Metro line
I looked upon an old past time.
Sitting in the middle of yesterday
a carousel that cannot play.
Bracing itself through the pouring rain
the tired horses show their pain.
Eroded down to their very core
their porcelain skins are no more.
Coarse are their once pristine petals
destined for a sea of metal.
The glimmering waterfall
Enclosed within an enchanted forest
Cries her tears
Under a midnight sky.
Here in the urban jungle
The urban monkeys play
They laze in their paradise
Escaping the urban day.
They sit within the branches
Above the earth below
Sharing a story or two
Of a world they need not know.
Late, in the darkness of night
They venture down the trunk
They swing into the golden arches
Obviously very drunk.
When they are sitting in their tree
They skull the liquids of the night
Dancing to the urban dream
Until the morning light.
Just for fun…
We come from different places
London, Rosebud, Tamworth and Yea.
We must have enjoyed the faces
because we decided to stay. 8
Badger likes to hibernate
and Turtle likes to dream,
the Moose offers mandates
which makes the Birdie scream.
We have a home on second east
a group of assorted creatures
coming home to enjoy our feast
after a day with the preachers.
We are found in the hall
when lights dim in the sky
singing the jungle call
as people pass us by.
Strangers do not understand us,
we are the crazy creatures
Always willing to make a fuss
from the top of the school bleachers.
Halfway, between lunch and tea
underneath the old gum tree
gazing up, towards the sky
I dream my life passing by.
Clouds float above my eyes
the cockatoo’s begin to cry
the wind whistles through the trees
and I am open to evenings breeze.
From the very start
Built upon the concrete floor
Tomorrow’s yesterday stands.
Twisting into the future.
Yet, firm on history’s page
sit the legends of a house.
A new house amongst the stars.
We came to the end
of our story. Something untold
in the fairy tales we had been taught.
There was no happy ever after.
The world was offering things
you could not, would not give me.
I made a choice.
I won’t go back.
Charlie Ann Alford 
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