Nathe

Words fascinate me; the pronunciation, the meaning, the symbolism. That’s what motivates me to write poetry and short works of fiction. I still haven’t learnt the art, but I hope what I contribute makes some sort of difference.

Writings

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Nathe

Writings

Followers

Following

I Don’t Like Monday

Nathe

1 min read

I don’t like Monday

It is the day that I dread

Alarm clock screaming

“Get the f*ck out of bed!”

I don’t like Monday

With these post-weekend blues

I have to iron my shirt

And polish my shoes

I should have done it Sunday

But then I spend all of my day

Worrying about Monday

And wishing Sunday away

I don’t like Monday

When I cycle to work

Flat tyre, rainy weather

Could this ‘get’ any worse?

I ...

Poetry

Million Dollar Smile

Nathe

2 min read

What is life without a purpose? And if you haven’t contributed towards society does that not make you eligible for afterlife?

I question this while my mother’s words swirl at the back of my mind; “You’ll make us proud one day Jules.”

Mr. Creswell’s infamous quote echoed ; “you don’t want to grow up to serve greasy chips at the back of the counter, drive a bus for old phoneys or clean up somebod...

Shh...

Nathe

2 min read

Miles could hear every creek of the cabin. The storm attempted to snap every joint of the wooden vessel. It was the only protection for the Winterberry family.

Creak.

A teary-eyed Robin provided a dim illumination from the candle lit cupcake he held in the palm of his hand. He held it as if it was a newborn dove that had cracked from an egg. Miles could almost taste the the sponge melt in his m...

The Detective and the Ham Joint

Nathe

2 min read

[More like a caption of a larger book.]

Detective Gunn arrived at the bar and eyed up the young man at the counter. After a polite exchange of details, he asked for the manager.

After several minutes, what sounded like a tyrant, was the the manager stomping in from the kitchen and swinging a joint of ham onto the bar counter. Detective Gunn pressed his hands on his stool to maintain it’s balanc...

Do I Belong

Nathe

1 min read

Do I belong with the blood ties;

The fabricated weaves,

Of branches entangled that make up my

Family tree

Or do I belong to a network

Of disconnected circuits

That malfunction and black out always leaving me

Powerless

Or do I belong in a circle;

A unity symbol

It bends and disjoins becoming more like a

Triangle

Or do I belong with my mind

Of pure imagination

Where make-believe foreshadows ...

Origami Master

Nathe

2 min read

The awkward atmosphere at the dinner table was like thick fog. My father cleared his throat and made some excuse of checking in on the chef. My sheepish mother answered a phone, that never rung. And Maisie was in a dreamlike trance, until whatever demanded her attention became to topic of conversation.

“Kira. Do some of that oriii...gum thing and make me a bird.”

“Maisie, you know-“

“Since al...

Alive

Nathe

1 min read

A canopy of black umbrellas

Like a bed of blooming lilies

The eerie silence broken by;

The momentum of our tears

Mourners leave after sad goodbyes

The blooming lilies wither

Until one is left at the foot of the coffin

Still shedding a thousand tears

‘Breakaway and spread your wings’

His voice is sharp and clear

‘The death of me does not define you,

So dry up them sodden tears.’

I smile a...

Empathy

Nathe

2 min read

When old folks speak of magic, I see their eyes alight rewinding back to theatre shows in the big cities or holiday coastal towns. Children, are none of the wiser. From young ages, cartoon clowns and generic handsomely-suited magicians spread this ability as if they have milled a thousand stars into stardust. Ha. But magic deceives them into thinking they could reach unimaginable heights of possib...

‘For You Grandma...’

Nathe

2 min read

The rain plummeted down followed by the odd company of thunder. It raged on with gradual flashes of lightning.

I was in the company with my grandparents, looking out the window in awe at the storm. Grandad cracked a joke about God having a good old rummage in the kitchen, clumsily dropping mugs, pans and dishes. I recalled back to the imagination of God having a piddle on the steel urinal basins...

Playing With Fire

Nathe

1 min read

He was a delicate candle

That needed some light

Strike the matchstick

And he’ll light up with a spark

His sweat dripping like wax

Slowly down his skin

Heated friction,

Quickened; as we shared our first kiss

His cologne was spicy

Like the taste of his tongue

Smoky tobacco

His breath; bitter and warm

The fumes were flavourful

But beneath the grey haze

Fireballs alight

I was a moth to a ...