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


Lost and Forgotten

Discharged into the arms of a stranger              
Wearing  a government badge
They sent him out into the world
All of three weeks old
“Public Hospital”
Stamped in blue ink
Across the back of his borrowed jumpsuit
Not even a bag
To carry his mother’s milk
Let alone to pack some dignity and respect into
And they said it was okay…

“This is your new home”
They told him
Pointing to the bare grey concrete floors
And the musty, worn sheets on the bed
A frozen pie for dinner
$1.99..is what you are worth
While he watched them eat steak 
It was a roof over his head
He should be grateful
And he was reminded so every day…

He dared not move
As they pinned down his arm
For “You have been a bad boy !”
Said the scalding hot water
As he looked the other way
But “..accidents happen”
The perpetrator said
Easier to turn a blind eye
He watched the officials slink away
After telling him he was “okay”

These are the stories of the little ones…
Who simply want a safe space to play
And ‘tell someone whom you trust in’
Is all we have to say


Dreamtime Lore

This photograph has been taken from Digital Photo Gallery of Ted Szukalski

They came with their God and their book
Told him he was outcast, naked and poor
Shunned his tucker, language and lore
Tried to bleach him
With their righteous weapons
Their guns and disease
To scrub and scour all trace
Of what had gone before…
They came, sirens blaring
And took his children away
Filling him with their poison
“It will be better this way”
Yet the cockatoos screeched
a raucous chorus of ridicule
That echoed throughout the land
For the white invaders
Could never extinguish
Spirit’s dreamtime tryst
Between
Mother country
…And this ancient man


Riding Rainbows

Little girls
My growing girls
Your sweet giggles of innocence
Still tippy-toe
Across my heart

Hear my whispers
Kissed gently upon you
Listen for their song
That only silence knows

Keep riding rainbows
My Little Girls
For loves, thrills and adventures
Lie eagerly in wait

Stretch yourselves with courage
(And delight !)
Through the clouds that will float by
‘Til your finger tips come to rest
Upon your horizons

And when your dreams and ambitions
Land momentarily
To catch their breath
Toss me a star
And I’ll join you there…


The Well Within

I always knew

the well ran deep

A seemingly bottomless pit

So dark and hollow

That for such a long time

I dared not look into…

For the vastness scared me

When I peered inside

Having never learnt

There were walls

Called boundaries

With special nooks

That lay within

To tuck away

Little reserves

of love

Just

…for

Me


Ebb and Flow

Like a line in the sand                          

You draw me to you…

Each grain of tender energy

Leaves trails

Along the valleys

of breath intertwined

then, exhaled

To settle

Between the ebb and flow

of the gentle, knowing tide

that binds us


Pierced through the Heart

Your absence strikes

Like a needle

Pierced straight through the heart

Desire

        Loss

Craving

…the inaccessible…

Patterns that bleed

Through each year

Each month

    Week

        Day

            Moment

Of the tapestry

That is

My Childhood Story

Those knots

in my stomach

…Stitched so tight

Leave gaping holes

In my core

My sense of love

for myself

So intrinsically linked

        With

                You


Happy Birthday Chloe !

You lay
Where they placed you

A Bundle of Love

Soft and warm
Against my skin
Exhausted
From the twisting, shoving
Little trooper ! ….
You fought for your place
Here
Relaxed
In the knowing
You were adored

Courage exuded
From every
innocent pore
Each limb
Extended
…little shoots
of solid oak
A strength
transplanted
from your mother’s love

HAPPY 11th Birthday, My Darling Daughter Chloe xoxoxo


Bless Me, Oh Mother, for I have Sinned

Bless me Oh Mother, for I have sinned
It has been a lifetime since my last confession
And these are my sins

Forgive me Oh Mother
For I am your child
I am heartily sorry for having offended you
By daring to ask
To be held in your arms
And in your heart

Bless me oh Goddess,
See me bow my head
As I revoke any longing for your approval
I detest all my childish neediness
For I dread the locked gates of heaven
and the pains of hell

Hear my confession, Oh mother
I have been impure of mind and body
For I have looked in my heart
And am no longer afraid

Release me Oh Mother
Watch my spirit soar !
Towards all who are good and deserving
of all my compassion
and all of my love

I firmly resolve
with the help of my inner grace
to honour my choices
to turn fear into love
and to cherish myself for who I am


Amen.


The Lost Children

                                                                                   

Whose child ?
Flinches, Winces
Burns inside
Silently screaming
Breathless
Tongue-tied

Whose child ?
Cringes, Shudders
Hides their eyes
Compliantly settles
Guts knotted
Despised

Whose child ?
Nameless, Blameless
Belittled
by a Bureaucracy, blind
To lips pursed in anguish
…Yet no words to describe

Who will protect the children
Society denies ?


A Thank You Note to Memory

Memory
Oh Memories…
Where do you hide ?
I sense your presence …Lurking
At the corners of my mind
Stealthily I creep
Feel the slowing of my breath
Ready to pounce
When your shadow takes a rest

I blink and you are gone
Trails of confusion
Litter your space
Yet I still feel you in my cells
        In my bones
                    And on my face

You are the most faithful play mate
Of this game that has no end
The rules remain unwritten
Tactics rehearsed so well…
You know I’ll never catch you
And I know …

You’ll never tell


Hope

Hope shimmers

Rays of golden thread

Cleverly interwoven

Between bleak greys and browns

Providing enlightenment

To the fabric of life


Man oh Man !

Men of courage, honour and resolve
Mere fantasies created
Through stories once told
Whilst here stand before me
Boys parading
in grown men’s bodies

Size ten boots
Boast of lands conquered
Yet rolled up sleeves
belie the frayed seams
Of the Self and Soul
…That read like a little black book
Scrawled with every nameable insecurity

With lips pursed
To contain my disappointment
(For no hero exists to slay the troll)
I send another on his way
…Those desert eyes…
To lap at some other oasis of need
No such mirage engulfs my energy
For with the autonomy of every womanly muscle
I must drag forth the resolve
To be my own protector
my own husband
…my own father


Pathways

On tiptoe we tread
Tentatively tracing
New stepping stones
Before us
Hesitancy seeks to confirm
The offerings
of
Wholeness

With magnetic force
the mystery of possibiliites
Draws us deeper
   …Closer
Clock ticking
Heart trembling
To step…
………or to Leap ?


An Open Door

Sometimes

Friends blow in

Their warm words

Stroking

the skin

 

Whispers of kindness

Chasing the shadows

Of

Past doubts

That linger

Within

 


Disquiet

 

 

 

Your silence is deafening

Not even ear-plugs of disdain

Can quieten the echo

                                                That richochets through my heart

                                                                                        Still…

 

 

 

 


Sweetest Thing

Unraveling  inner  purpose

Requires exquisite execution

Bravely we must grasp

At

the corners

of those shiny layers

shrouding the Self

And in one delicate

motion

With a twist of Faith

Release the pull of opposites

To reveal the sweetness within


Thank You Life !

Gratitude burnsflame heart

Through every cell

As

I stand here

In awe

of

all the Good

and of all the Abundance

that flows

Lovingly

From the Universe

into God’s vessel

 that

         is

                    My

                               Heart