Rough and Raw
sometimes I wish I was stranded on a beach
in the never find world of the island called for-ever-more-shore
sometimes I imagine on my island a magic forest night
where I dance and sing till the chattery stars join in
sometimes I hum the song that I would bring along
when I sew my island clothes of cloth leaves and stone button rows
sometimes I glow as I believe that in this special lost place
there would be an untainted stage where unconditional love was all the rage
sometimes I know that this wonderworld cannot be
but in my flights of fancy it becomes as real and special as possibly can be
watershed moment...
we balance on a fallen tree trunk arms outstretched and free
we climb the tallest coconut filled palm tree
we beg an eagle to carry us into its cliff nest
we squash a ripe mango till juice drops stain our silk blouse vest
we prick our finger tips and taste the salty friendship blood drops
we shadow in the rim of our wide brim hat tops
we lose faith as we hold hurt and devastation in despise
we bring tears to our eyes when we watch a child's happy squeal surprise
we know we have crossed the watershed when life's thunderstorm drops
splash love and happiness in our daily wheat field circle crops
The Spark under the Bark
It was when she met my eyes
that I saw the ravenous quest for meaning
It was when she spoke low and slow
that I heard the appetite for intelligent debate filled evenings
It was when she ate with hungry intent
that I felt the need to abandon the frienship famine
It was when she smiled with soft lips tilting upwards
that I knew for certain she shared a peckish sense of humour
It was when she said goodbye and ended the night with warmth of heart
that I understood the craving-hunger that churns the hunkering-yearning
for the good delivered only by female soul food
Sleep Stick
I turn to bed
I turn in
I turn off
I turn to you
I breathe deep
I breathe shallow
I breathe whispers
I breathe into your back
I snuggle in
I snuggle up
I snuggle your broad shoulder
I snuggle your smell
I fly away I fly towards
I cry in monologue
I yearn for dialogue
I yearn for the you in the you that was my true
Ticket in my Memory Box
Below the Blue
Behind the Screen
The silence Bubble
The shared inbetween
By night they dreamt
Darkness gave freedom to explore
They tasted the weird, wonderful and bizarre
They knew this would now be the only and all
By day the blue became the watery waves
that wash in and out of human past caves
The ticket stained with human rain of black ink and salty refrain
Admit two Adults with all they became
Lightning Storm Stick
Frightened and chill-bone alone
Storm clouds swirl omenous paint on a begging black sky
Scattered hurt stab relentless shards through uncertain invitation cards
Unruly wind hurls insults as it wraps around throw away human bundles
Lightning finally unleashes its force-arcs accross the swollen ragged sky
Thunder drumroles the chaos below
Battered river banks testify to the rage of the out of control heart break sky
I wait to rest on the stick bundles that nest in the first rays of the after storm sun glaze
invisible free me...
what you see
is what I want you to see
the real me
is invisible and wildly free
my me
has been evolving for a half a century
my me
has been wading through the fog on a life lake of discovery
she has strained and was pained
but decided to never bow out
she was tossed and turned
and often bled and screamed out loud
the real me, the me in my now me
is part of the stick and the stones of the past
the real me, the me in my now me
is breathing the air which was always elusively there
what you see
is what I want you to see
the real me
is invisible and happy and wildy free
