Author: Cassa Bassa

🇦🇺🇨🇳 inquisitive, observant, witty, a thinker, was a misfit child 😊

Caged

She is beautiful!
wearing an indigo aura
velvet moss and lime green coat
carrying an agile fiery tangerine hemline
Her palace cannot contain her magnificence
People from near and afar visiting her
admiring her royal and divine elegance
enchanted by her allure.

She is lonely!
For the pleasure of many
she is destined to the palace
watching the world fading away
grieving her once soaring freedom

Nobody knows her entrapment
Few expressed their fervent love
and went away buried in sorrow
accusing her of cold and aloof

No one knows
she is dying brokenhearted
in desolation..

Perfect moments

Floating on a lilo, squinting to the clouds, day dreaming…

Sinking into the couch, getting lost in a book, coffee brewing…

Curling up on a soft rug, playing my favourite tracks, fire crackling…

Dangling my feet in the water, watching the fishermen, time trickling…

Digging my toes in the sand, breathing in the salty mist, wave crashing…

Leaving everything, rushing into the storm, barefoot running…

Reaching out my hand, smiling at you, a life worth living!

A village saint

I heard him singing again
amongst the birds
in the deep mountains
above the tea plantation.

Papa told me he lost his mind
to a dragon.

I saw him leading the buffalo
down the stream
dragging smoke from a pipe.

I had never waved nor smiled
too scared to lose my mind and
I was five.

Years gone by
I heard him singing no more.

Papa told me
he lost his voice to
the crows.

I watch him
dragging smoke from the pipe
like incense burning

I see angels chanting
paving the way for
resting.

Two as 1

Two acacia birds
two forests
cried out in sorrow.
In the blink of an eye
year of the wool
reunited to
the rattan knitted tree
under the milky way.
Two halves of a heart
two hearts’ desire
as one.
They survey the forest
ahead of the daybreak
nesting in the midst of clouds.
Sun rises, sun sets
their songs
echoing the land
pure as the linen
buries them
as one
when their old age
comes.

Ice n Fire

(Fire and Ice – painting by Michelle Meister )

I am an intense person

in a quiet way,

often you don’t notice

till you are in close contact,

and most people don’t get to that vicinity.

If you are dancing around the edge,

testing the temperature and atmosphere,

Don’t be!

You will get a chill,

feeling alone and morbid.

You will only pierce me with fire and flames,

the same intensity of my ice sculpted palace.

If you are expecting mashmallows, vanilla sky, warm and fussy,

Don’t be!

I am an intense person,

a Rinko waiting for Kūki to

ignite the Lost Paradise!

* A Lost Paradise is 1997 novel by Japanese author Junichi Watanabe.

Today’s News

The news broke out today

you are guilty as hell

The blood bruises boiling up in me sent my stomach to knots

My heart radiating sharp stabbing pain

The vomit choked my windpipe

The flashback was like unleashed wild beasts attacking me

tearing me to shreds

I stumbled out to the back yard

to the tree I buried the trauma

I dug with my bare hands until my nails ripped off

blood meshed into soil

The news broke out today

so as my secret

 

Withering

( painting by Remigiusz Dobrowolski )

I am sitting in my worn cane chair

at my grainy raw timber desk

facing this window of lost youth

hoping to glimpse the scenery

before the dusk sinking into the night.

My hair is wiry and thin

salt and pepper without the spice.

My trembling, scaly hands raising to my skull.

My strawly fingers running along the scrawny sockets

to the elongated pointed nose

to the cold shrivaled lips.

They are the same track your hands and lips travelled.

Your faces are haunting me outside the window,

one by one, your faces of disappointment, hatred, wailing, brokenhearted, unforgiving…

playing screen by screen as the scenery of

my only connection to the outside world.

Here I am, in confinement

where I confessed all my wrongdoings, misbehaving, betrayals, poisonous venom.

I repaid all these with my youth, my solitary, my self inflicted torment

until I become a bag of bones, dust to dust, ashes to ashes…

You are enough

I was sentenced to life imprisonment by love.

I came to the end of the road of self hatred.

No matter how much rain fell on me, how deep I swam in the ocean,

I could not washed off the self sabotage stains.

You drifted in as a message in a bottle.

I read you more than a message.

You are full of life and fascinating.

I read you more like a book.

To me you are an open book,

I know all the mysteries and wonders of you.

My emotions follow you around,

from childlike innocent giggles,

blushing cheeks cuteness,

to grief and lost sadness,

heart wrenching sobs.

You let me read you like a book.

A world I stumbled into where treasures were found.

A place I rest upon to call home.

With you, I am finally enough!

Kite

I crafted you

Yet you married the sky

Memories are dissipating on a broken string

The wind subsided

Yet hope is lingering

Spring has gone

Yet I am still longing

Time has written love into a song

I humm it to the edge of the world

Hauntingly intense!

Equal measure

There has always been silence between us.

Your refusal to share and my restrain to express.

There has alway been space between us.

Your fear in repeating the history and
my patience in seeing things through.

There has always been harmony between us.

Your hesitation in baring your soul and the fortress I built for my failing heart.

We can continue like this to the end numbed and lost.

We may pierce the bubble with equal measure.

Both you and I know there is no safer place than here for our long gone, burntout, wayward souls.