1850 - Outside—Inside—My Side—Your Side

 

Outside—Inside—My Side—Your Side

Bird calls, unfamiliar to me—

Red-browed finches? Maybe.

Magpies, not chortling, clearing throats.

Crows, rooks—harsh, abrasive.

A passing commuter train,

Full of people going somewhere.

A boy waves from the overpass;

The train blows its whistle—a simple kindness.

Cars pass. People on urgent missions.

Spring is alive in the garden:

Wattles burst yellow, finches forage.

A pink-blossomed tree—a peach, I’m told.

Sunlight pours into the room.

I sit, pillow supported, coffee in hand,

Watching, listening, marvelling.

Grieg plays—Peer Gynt, Morning.

A faint smell of wash and wear paint,

New carpets, too.

Over me, a blue mohair blanket—

Cobalt and ultramarine—left just for me.

Onkaparinga, a name from the past.

"Empress Mohair", left by a Queen.

I feel warm, cocooned.

I reach out to your side of the bed—

It’s cold.

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1849 - The Queen in Exile

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

hands brush water sparrows snake babbling slot rap piped bark exiled speech

The Queen in Exile

There is the sense of a quest—

Not a crusade, a pilgrimage.

A need to go, a need to return.

Reality—

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Waiting for cancelled trains

Sharing the platforms

With indifferent sparrows;

The piped announcements,

Garbled, babbling in another tongue;

The words of the tracks carry her on:

Rap-rap, rap-rap, rap-rap..

Friendly people are there,

Not snakes but stakes,

They offer support, advise.

Moving place to place, 

Room to room, steep stairs.

Another bed and basin,

Somewhere to brush hair

And wash hands.  To rest.

Receptionists bark, snap;

The seeking of food, of water,

ATM slots eat the cards.

The food is expensive

Tinned fish, the best option;

Though three egg meals comfort too.

But the queen is without her court—

The missing of company,

Of speech, of sharing the trip.

“May I call you?”

Yes!

◊

1848 - My Faery Queen

 

Image by ChatGPT

Not long ago I discovered the Ghazal—an ancient Arabic form of verse.

Its music lies in repetition: the first two lines end with the same word,

and that word returns, refrain-like, in every couplet thereafter.

In keeping with tradition, the poet’s name appears in the closing lines.

Here is my attempt.

My Faery Queen

She calls him her King, so she must be a queen—

She’s clearly poised and a regal thing, just like a queen.

There is enchantment and wonder flowing from her—

He's bewitched and enriched by his lovely queen.

It feels so tingly, a bright heavenly spell,

That binds him wholly, and holds him well—his queen.

There’s a deep love rising, both tender and caring,

It shapes him, remakes him, and flows from his queen.

She moves like a fairy, she enriches and charms,

She’s a special kind of angel, is his dear queen.

Lee’s heart is grounded, his love is serene,

He sings of no other but his sweet faery queen.

◊

1847 - A Senryu Cluster

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

bound slip swells fan luring fence cracks bone tower frosted trap grasps

Not seeing a single topic that I felt that I could fit the words to, 

I used each as a prompt for an individual Senryu.

A Cluster of Senryu

bound

Overseas travel.

Like having your second child—

You forget the pain.

◊

luring

"We can sell your house."

You don’t have to want to sell—

Just give us free rein.

◊

Bone

They are so eager—

These keen real estate agents.

Don’t throw them a bone.

◊

fence

Life has compartments.

We must know where our place is.

Boundaries are good.

◊

cracks

With the right outlook

We are all kintsugi bowls

With gold on our cracks.

◊

tower

The storms come and go.

I weather all of them—

I am the lighthouse.

◊

trap

Life is not a trap.

You can move to where you want—

You are not a tree.

◊

swells

The tide ebbs and flows

But we are in the same sea—

Waves wash over us.

◊

slip

They slip in between—

Fingers meshing with fingers.

Hearts then follow suit.

◊

fan

The fingers fan out—

Long sweeping touches follow:

Sensations of love.

◊

grasps

She touches my hand

(Sitting in a cinema)

Quickly I grasp hers.

◊

frosted

Frost sits on the leaves,

Sits on the branches, the buds—

A Spring time icing.

◊

1846 - Preconceptions

 

Image by ChatGPT

The Sunday Whirl presented these twelve words for us to use in a creative writing piece.  

demolished legacy step eager age turn scam rich chest shaking smell lie

(Decided to skip ‘scam’.)

Preconceptions

To be honest

I never expected to meet a fairy.

Equally, I never expected

Her to come by tram.

I never expected

Life to turn so quickly—

For age to be no barrier,

For her steps toward me

To be the first in a magical journey,

A journey rich in blessings,

Sacred ritual and spiritual nuance,

Or for me to be so eager, so willing

To embark on this journey with her,

Creating our enduring legacy.

My fairy and me.

I never expected

To be holding hands in the dark.

To be finger-combing her hair

With her head on my lap.

For my voice to be shaking so

As my heart swelled in my chest.

To lie beside her and smell

Her aromas, her fragrance, her being.

To commit to abide in her love,

To worship and support her.

My fairy and me.

I never expected

That so many preconceptions

Would be demolished so quickly,

Shattered and strewn—

Like a foundry worker’s clay, 

Crumbling, breaking away

To reveal the statue

Standing complete before me.

My fairy and me.

I had no idea.

I do now.

◊◊◊

Writing on a plane, 

flying in the wrong direction,

at roughly the same time, 

the fairy wrote to the same set of words:

For Lee*

We demolished their visions of age.

You hand brushes my shoulder

As magnolia blooms its rich mauve,

Its leaves shaking in the rain.

I pause, take a breath.

You kiss my breast.

Your fingers lift me up, step by eager step.

Our skin glows like those

Rain washed flowers.

I lay my head on you chest.

We arrive with the tide.

Our waves receding with the moon

These cycles of love eternal

Our legacy.

◊◊◊

* Lee is my nom du rue.