My Hopes, Memories and Dreams

Poetry

Skin to Skin

You lend me your softness

so that

I might remember

the gentleness

that resonates

from touch

skin to skin

and back again

A heaving

of dark days

folded in upon itself

unwinding

amongst the tangles

of

eggshell blue

Egyptian cotton

Your tenderness

spills

like liquid silk

creating rapids

along each softened ridge

to refill

my languishing

vessel

 


Free Falling

 

 

 

 

 

free falling

through the hollow

finger tips straining

desperately, to hold on…

…to what?

That certainty that alludes me…?

one can not grasp that

which is not in reach

I invoke the screams of Alice

beckoned further down the spiral

by the Darkness

that is

my Rabbit Hole

as every nerve cell in my being

chooses to coagulate in my chest

pelting, fruitlessly

like stone cold hail

against the window to my soul

too numb to retaliate

Tired

from the ravishing anxieties

that appear to have swallowed whole

the gravity

of

my being


Flood Ravaged Queensland

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broken waters
from river banks swollen
bore down upon humanity
…unleashing with fury
an urban tsunami

a mother’s heart wrenched
her love denied
for an infant snatched
stolen
by a force indiscriminate
…screams turn to whispers

see arms extended
on roof tops, hopeful
to bodies floating
life sucked upstream
…another tragedy
another helpless victim

the grief of Queensland
sunk in the psyche
of a nation, stoic
determindly dedicating
tear stained pages
to heroic tales
of
heartache
….and rebirth


Only Sixteen

She was only sixteen

They said

Her juvenile notions but fleeting

Extinguishable by a puff

of clandestine condemnation

Like sixteen candles

Stuck helplessly

On vanilla sponge

with cream

 

She was only sixteen…

Caught at the mercy

of life so confounding

Deceit and damnation

The only maiden offering

Her will torn

Dismembered

Anchored in roots

….turned rotten

Whilst visions in shades of joy

and hope

Flickered mercilessly around her head

 

…I was only sixteen


Insomnia

Accelerated thoughts

Stream,

              Surge

At 1am

Nonsensical rapids

              of

                   images and words

Racing heart beats out-paced

                                                                           Dark corners taken unabashed

                                                        Such unhinged leaps of consciousness

                                                                            Transporting past to future

                                                                      …in reverse

                                                                            No finish line of sleep in sight

                                                                                       At 1am

                                                                                                  My mind berserk !






Little girl, Little me

Little girl

Me, aged 4

…Little me

Sunshine soaked comfort

Caresses tender, innocence

Salt tainted sea breeze

Augmenting parched desire

An inner thirst

For a want, then unnamed

…Yet secretly possessed

Gratitude exudes

For a pink bunny to hold dear

Your sweetness echoes

in floral strains, near

Such reassurance

In recognition

….A glimmer of me

Caught dancing

between

Shadows of you


Beginnings

A slate wiped clean

Like crisp white cotton

Beckons the Now

To rest upon its’ welcoming folds

A virginal awakening

Giving birth to realisation

Such liberation to behold

In escapement of the soul