Kim van Breda

Oceans whisper their whimsical waterfalls
windblown, meandering the shorelines periphery
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Another African Dawn

The silence of the dawn even before
the first bird sings its unique little composition to the world
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“ECLIPSE OF A FRIDAY’S CHILD”

Childhood nursery rhymes stick like glue
Parents provide our initial point of view
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POETIC JUSTICE-(Virtue over Vice)

Virtue over vice—who will pay the price
Ironic twists of fate are flawed if virtue does not equal reward
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Neptunes Mermaid Meditation

With sceptre in hand – crowned—underwater enthroned
King Neptune absorbed as aquatic muses reflect the moonstone
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There is a Love that came for us
Searching heart and soul –abundant devotion
Knowing all, Omniscient- pure and just
Our birth, life and purpose- set into motion
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Blue Kitten Moon

Desolate and azure the moon radiates its sphere
The global cerulean of Indigo casting light, creating a night that is clear
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‘Red Scarlet Heart’

Cardinal desire misled chastened into submission instead
To tread water in the deep end of humanity a ruby watershed
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The Long Fall Back To Earth

The furious flapping of broken wings
The wasted futility of shattered dreams
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' Underwater Contours”

Curves and contours testify
The mirror never tells a lie
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“SCENT TO REMIND ME”

Favourite fragrances of nature, newness and food
that gently trigger a memory response
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Dedicated to the legendary Kurt Cobain—(20 February 1967—5 April 1994)

“What else could I write—I don’t have the right.....”
Words are a big pile of contradiction—split down the middle, sincerity and fiction
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“ESSENTIALS”

Cluttered contents exposed by an open cupboard door
Time once again the enemy—staring at the clock on the wall
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A nother poem—A different A isle
B olts of imagination that B eguile
C ollages formatting ABC C reativity
D escribing flights- visions D ifferently
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ANTITHETICAL

What would you do if offered affordable beach property?
Sounds good... lest supposing proviso be toxic wasteland and poverty
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Sometimes it feels like God doesn’t really concern Himself with me
Whilst in fact every footstep He can foresee
He knows precisely the hairs on my head
Aware of every moment, everything about me instead
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Days drift from one to another
nights restless- gray
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