Author: Cassa Bassa

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

We Are Back at Where We Were

Clifton Garden, Mosman, Sydney, Australia

Memory of you running in full force all the way to the end of the jetty, leaped in the air holding your knees, gravity sank you in the reflection of the cloudless sky, stayed with me.

You packed up and left for the concrete jungle city life. Many nights, I listened to your voicemail messages, with deafening clubbing music, slurry speech, and lots ‘I love you, Silly’.

You missed my wedding, my 30th birthday party, my brother’s funeral and my divorce party. I didn’t know how to stay friends with you. You’d never there for me like you used to when you were here.

Every time I sat here, I looked at the jetty, remembering all the laughter,all the time we spent together, wondering what had gone wrong.

Now I am sitting here, with you by my side. I still haven’t had an answer. In my frail voice, I ask, “Why did you leave me and never came back all these years till now?” You wrap me tighter in the shaw and hold me closer, “Because I love you, Silly.” I still don’t quite understand, but I am glad you are back here with me in my last days. My heart is full again.

Ringers

Denise’s Six Sentence Story prompt – Yellowbelly

He was adopted into this town of ringers to work hard in the cattle trade.

Either died in the heat with thirst, or sold himself to the tavern as a slave and prostitute, the choice was obvious.

The Darwin scorching sun fried him into a freckle mess; callouses and blisters kept him in agony; the worse of all, he was belittled by the macho men who called him a Yellowbelly.

He didn’t want to fight back because he was a lot weaker than them, and his God condoned violence.

He prayed to his God like Daniel, three times a day, “Lord, when I am weak, your strength is magnified. Keep me from the temptation to murder them in their sleep, and deliver me from their evil acts. Amen.”

Surely, his God answered his earnest prayer, when the town election came, he was elected to be the local member because he was the only man could read and write.

Pluviophile

Living Poetry word prompt – Park

The silver curtain oscillates
with the rhythm of the autumn wind
drenching every surface
of the park
outside my kitchen window

Vaugely the bird songs come through
in the gaps of house chores
until coffee is ready
and a book is chosen

The inviting moist timber chair
and the wet wrought iron table
in the patio
soaking in the rain
My face meets the ash sky in delight

The coffee cup will soon be overflowing
with laughter
The poetry in the book starts shedding
tears of joy

He Is Who He Is

A writer writes
without ceasing
even his heart runs dry
soul cries in pain

He was made a writer
a blessing and a curse
all in his nib
Words fall from his flesh and bones
hanging onto life

Walk Through Life

This is the last colours of autumn
brittle to my eyes

Bitter cold will line the graveyard with grey snow
Dirty ground in dark days

The same pair of boots though
walk on grass, leaves, snow
into the far away spring dew

Role Reverse

I knew
we ended
from the hug
we had
at the same cafe
our smiles met
and our legs
flirted

I realised
what we had
was pure lust
and transactions

I touched up
my lipstick
and went out
to hunt again

But this time
he’ll be the one
that’s taking care of
the bills

Mellow Sky

Corrimal beach, Sydney, Australia

We became
the mellow sky
In harmony with
the time polished rocks
And finely sieved sand

Happy Days

I looked through the train window
Lines of yellow trees shimmering
in the golden sun rays
That took me to the sunflower field in January
when I wore smiles like daffodils