Daily Overcomer

I know
I am locked out of heaven
fallen like the angels
My hiding place
a weathered house
by the meadow

Loneliness is the cold moon
in February
Frostbitten, my heart
pounding to keep warm
Anxiety is the sound
trapped deep inside
in shallow breaths

I need
a way out of
this daily attack

The texture of the canvas
pains my over-chewed fingers
The smell of the oil paint
calls me to create
Perhaps
there are wild flowers hidden
in the white and grey meadow
Maybe another pot of hot tea
I will find the anchor of my heartbeat

I know
I can bring the world
to my humble home
through my imagination
and the paintbrushes
Perhaps
I will reinstate heaven
to my heart’s desire

Nature’s Romance

Bennetts Head Lookout, Forster, NSW

The land kisses the ocean
Pebbles turn into rocks
Spring green penetrates light blue
into a vast turquoise break
driven further to the deep blue

Origami Souls

A collaborative effort of me and Benjamin Grossman.

The bountiful lilac purple wisterias curtain our bedroom window
The humidity of summer and the sound of cicadas wake us

My breasts swell in the cup of your hands
The curve of my body lazily responding to your offering

There is only one line you fit between
Fold me into origami with nothing but your tongue

Our bodies contort into a paper crane
Loving for 1000 years till we turn grey
Our souls take flight through the lilac purple haze into the flush blue eternity.

There is No Karma

She got the news that her abuser died in peace after had been bedridden for ten years.

All the pots and pans were swept off the kitchen bench. The noise echoed off the tile floor. She torn the t-shirt that she was wearing, exposing her flesh. She gripped her hair with both hands until she felt the pain of her scalp. Thumping her fists on her thighs like a downpour.

She was angry. She was savagely angry.

You didn’t deserve to die. Died in peace? What’s that? What is that? You scum of the earth didn’t deserve to die. You deserved to rot in your own putrid karma. I deserve to die. I deserve freedom. I deserve innocence. Your death robbed me of everything, everything!

She felt empty after emptying out all her rage. Desolate, numb, nothingness, still haunted.

A Broken Home

Wisteria in late spring
Lilac purple like your heart
Falling
Falling
Embroidering the front lawn
You won’t leave now
You can’t
Your heart embedded in our garden
Will rot with my tears
Or burn in the summer sun

Anal-retentive

The Living Poetry prompt – Flustered

3pm is the worst time to start rearranging the pantry

Remove all the bits and pieces

Check expiry date and discard

Clean all shelves inside the panty

Clean pantry doors and frame

Clean all bottles, jars, packets, tins and cans

Recategorise all bits and pieces

Children have just came home from school wanting snacks and drinks among the chaos

Feeling flustered and losing control

My blood is boiling, scalp is heating up

Shouting, “Pack your bags and go back to school!”

Children stop

Then bursting in laughter, “Mum, you are losing it.”

History Will Tell

“People are not what they say but what they do.”

Often our emotions and feelings deceive us. We put our logic aside.

We will be brianwashed if we don’t look beyond the slogans or intentions, to see the proof or evidence.

If we were presented a future but there are no concrete steps on how to get there, it’s merely an illusion. Marketing sells an illusion rather than reality. It’s wise to not fall into the trap.

History will tell.

#cassaquote – 52

If I am asked to explain myself to you,

you don’t know me as much as you thought.