Honeycomb & Cocoa

ruminations and poetry

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

The Keyboard Dance.

Colleague sits next to me

Relentlessly hitting the keys

Just like the sound of rain

Patterning heavily after a winter sneeze.

The sound of her speed

Renders you obsolete

Are you even working as much as them

Or is that your heart hammering heat.

Questions floating inside your empty head

Will it be answered or left unsaid?

The 'rat race' they call it

Even *their* feet scurry along,

Mirroring the sound of the keyboard's plastic tweet.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Catching London's blush/ As the sun sets And the moon rises Serenely between Tower Bridge. Shrouding the city in rosegold Its illumination a sharp contrast to the Leafy ivy, and the bordering floral blooms Which border the sooty lampost, So characteristic of the city of hearts, the one we identify as London. ~11.07.17~

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Parchment, Paper, Power

153 pages, Creamy, not quite white Assimilate Together, bound. A story. Freshly pressed, softly silky Smoky kohl text, is crisply sharp Branded resolutely on the ivory. A story sits, slumbering Waiting for an active mind To weave the pattern Breathing life into the static ink.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

TheTubeRideLife

You're standing Balancing really Millimeters from your fellow passenger Who's just as animalistically Competitive to claim a seat On the crammed Tube That begins to press in and feelmuchlikeanactualtube You know a narrow compressed thing As wide as a kitchen roll Tube. Squished like oily sardines Glimmering with the day's fuelings One second a wilted leaf The next, eyes slanted, scenting movement the tiger within you locking the next vacant seat. Just this minute the slight sheen populating upon your brow, festers upon His lip, Gushes from her temples Steady trickles merely intensifying the heat as the musk of the day comes alive as the sun sets. Expired scents of vanilla mingled with books, woven with dried ink, a hint of fruit peel laced with the sharp acrid stabs of garlic from someone's lunch which is enveloped in an insistent fug of old tobacco hoops. Telling tales of demanding days and heated meetings, of creeping stress and time wasted. Your mind is vacant, hammered by the metallic coolness of the automated station announcement as a slick trail wends its way down the narrow of your back- A snail. Eliciting an imperceptible shiver as it drips downwards Populating the already moist veneer that coats A journey Underground.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

The snow fell soft and sleep swooped down. I'm off to sleep now I said. Twit twoo Twit twoo I'm off to sleep Without you.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Hedwig and I chilling, celebrating 20 years of this magic the best way we know. Thank you J.K for shaping my world, growing up with Harry has been such a privilege☇⚡✨💞

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Without a second look I purchased a new book with a book already sitting Forlornly in my bag...

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

The Element of Surprise. The penguin couldn't see The very thing it wanted to see. After sunrise It got a surprise As the thing it was looking for Appeared right in front of its eyes. ~ She jumped back with a start An electric jolt like a dart As her eyes showed her the thing That last night in that spot Wasn't there. - For the eyes can never see When trying to find something or three. And little miss penguin went away Puzzled with such morning play.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Opportunity

Doors are not walls Despite sounding similar. Because they open and close; Not stand fixed, stuck, unfamiliar. The draught of chance, Opportunity and excitable fever Ensures continuous movement, Here and forever… So that when one thing ends Another surely follows, The ribbon of time sewing Over old, restoring anew, Knitting an unfolding fluid flourish Which saturated with stories, billows.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

April Awakens With a wide yawn April awakens In a Saturday warmth. Time ticks to, trundling on Like a rickety train trolley. Suddenly the buttery sun Is whisked into a melted night. An owl hoots, sunday dawns And the clouds shift ceaselessly In its haughty carelessness. Dusk drifts in, stars puncturing the twilight tease. Coffee crisps and creases the oncoming week. And so, like that, The first weekend of April Whisks by, in the flutter of an Eye.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

The Grass Outside

Skies brew mellow blue Flecks of yellow dance In the twittering Birdsong which chimes charms The springy breeze. Out the window I, See mummy stoop low Sounds of dry brushed leaves Pierce the trilling Of birds chirping. The sudden sharp sweet Tang of mown lawn brews Rising through windows That were firmly shut Just yesterday. The buttery warmth Of buttercups and Daisies plait with the Chopped grass, swallowed By the red blade. A cacophony Of smells dance and twirl Taking me back to Times of young, bursting With hope and age. This the season of Optimism and Possibility When the grass shoots north Yet always chop'd. Bringing again the Endless musk of Spring The season of life Love, listless kisses As two unite. And yet the blanket Of grass remains still, Its cosy scent ming- Ling with a fresh brew Starting anew. Find me someone who Despises the green Blades which exude such Rich and buttery Scent, rising all Spring. Dreams mingled with clouds Characterise the Isolated one Who flustered from work Returns to home. Inhaling the blend That welcomes her mind To slip into the Realms of fiction Waving her hi.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Spring Sprong Sprang

Spring is sprung Sprong and sprang. Slippery leaves And honey Combing the trees. Chicks cluck and sheeps sleepily baa Slippery sleet And rippling rain Drops infusing with singalonging Shell ducks bleating maa. Dusk drops down Melting the foliage melded with roots. Colours flash by masking the frost, Cocoa chips crackling the quinoa Swirling coffee scenting the breath of Now. Shades of anticipation tint the air as lips pursed, we swallows the present wave of Spring that marches In.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Blossoms bloom

Blossoms burst forth. Initially crawling, quivering in the butter breeze pulsating optimism. Brewing, churning the soft palpable scent of drive and possibility. Surreptitious lilac mixed with kimberley lime. Budding florals mellow the periwinkle sky, powder, shell pink, shadow blue. Delicate flushes of a shy duckling are indistinguishable from the blurred onyx skies Of Spring premature

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Exotic.

He stood there Recognising my mocha features As something different 'Exotic' he called me. Standing there With his whitewashed features Dirty sapphire eyes Calculating. 'You're a real beauty, fit!' No. I am more than that. Much more. I refuse to be rendered as a pretty commodity- A trophy girl. I am educated, confident, decisive. I am authoritative. Opinionated. Productive. Much more than the vapid words you seek to encase And subjugate me within. Us women rise from the ashes of your old school subjugation. And instead, blazing with the phoenix flames of Resilience, resourcefulness, retribution, We demand recognition- Unashamedly defining ourselves, As we each write our own unique chapter in the never ending story of life.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Life as an air steward

I fell in love in Istanbul. Two days later I had to say bye.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Cappucinno Kisses

Sniff in the undulating scent Of spiralling mocha beans. Lips pressed against the steamy glass Leaving behind molten residue of silky hue Oxblood perhaps No, phoenixflame, A ghost of colour That speaks of timepast Tinting the lips of his that whispered untruths.

[honeycomb-and-cocoa]

Monday Moans

Memories flickered past, Chapters of love Living and lost Yet you breathe today Renewed with possibility And believe that this time The heart will invest itself In a quest of fulfilment and not end In futility.