Poetry

Feeling very sexy lol who wants to play with me ?

So love this its truly how Im feeling lol gonna tell some one to shut up lol  enjoy

A knife and cut your own heart out be brave Care not the outcome no control available no lesson too deep Intuitions ,intentions, respect , slaves are whipped into subservience and some understanding of power. Blessed be the master, blessed be the lesson in gods victory. No heart conscious of pride can stand ,yet pride and respect demanded. Love cut from the soul ingrained and conformed to some misshapen monster of duty yet not implied not forced but of ones own hand. Tears are simply emotional responses. Death surrounds me with total acceptance and forgiveness. Be love if love be you, ask only for peace for no love abounds in any heart, cold fierce clinical hearts.

 

Did I dream too long did I fly too high
Love gave me wings
But I have long since crashed and burned
I stand each day and cast my wishes upon the breeze l watch the tide and imagine you
Love imagined or real
Emotional depths untold unexplainable
What began this story this desire this incantation what enchantment of magic
Somewhere you are real Somewhere in another realm far far away
I stand upon my distant shore and weep for dreams lost
Louisa jen

magician

The performance was at five.                                                                         My nerves were all a jangle.                                                                           We hurried along the city street in our best attire.                                       In the theatre we took our seats and lounged with sudden ease.                We waited for the curtain to rise full of new surprises.                               The audience all coughs and whispers everywhere.

The curtain rose with no undue revelation and the magician took his place.                                                                                                                          An assistant entered in her sparkling suit smiling.                                     In a box she was sawn clean in two , then back together.                           Disbelieving our eyes.                                                                                           The audience went wild.                                                                                  A rabbit then hopped from his hat.                                                                     A dove came from his sleeve.                                                                                It was magic I could see no other way.                                                           A hush came over the theatre, she stepped into another box.                    The magician stood quite near.                                                                                            The audience held their breath.                                                     In a moment and in a twinkling she was gone.

How did he do this magic,  the box was empty.                                             A zealot seeks enlightenment and I was not one to let it go.                          I was swept with confusion as he performed this final trick.                    I could stand no more for this I should call the law                                       Illusion lit me with a dazzling delusion, where had that lady gone.            An empty box ignored, no blood upon the floor.                                           A magician’s brilliance as he stood to take his bow.                                       where had that lady gone cries began to be heard                                        She is in the mirror  a  voice was heard to cry                                                our eyes averted                                                                                                 magic entangled, she stood

Louisa jensen

Alone

In a crowd I am alone

On a bed of roses, I am alone

Delight tasted never wasted

I smell the flower and I pick the petals

Longing for the pleasures of the garden

I hold the other through the night yet come the light I am alone

 

I am alone

I rage against it

yet I hold my body to myself

Thoughts randomly come and leave

I am controlled, yet active and decisive

I extract the last, drop of delight

 

Life twists into an embrace

A dance I cannot chase

I let my gaze fall away you cannot stay

yet in the turmoil within your gaze

A question and a quest remain

A lady of the field

A knight of the realm

I am alone

 

Country Spirit

Louisa jen

Bitumen black, snakes along the red dirt road.

The wooded bridge gives respite from the serpent.

Rain quenched the Barwon River, giving vigour to its flow.

Cool breezes, caress the morning air.

Thick mud oozing with parasitic leeches, sticks stubbornly to the verge.

Water trickling across smooth slippery stones and jagged rocks.

Broken boughs lay antiquated along the bank.

 

Grasses brown and green, bent under the shaded trees.

Kangaroo’s graze and Emu’s saunter.

Blue skies and bright days warm our hearts within.

Destination, where the willow trees weep in the stream.

Pepper trees and eucalypts and rollie pollies as far as I can see.

 

Picnic tables at the park with sandwiches and red coloured cordial.

Table cloths white and inviting with colourful balloons tied to painted rocks.

A market with smiling faces and friends all around.

Our road ends here at Walgett town.

 

Children playing and running, their laughter echoing around the gums.

Splashing and throwing, skimming stones across the river.

Counting the bounces and watching the ripples expand and shrivel.

Fun and giggles out of control, with tadpoles in a jar.

 

Finches, Crows, Butcher birds and Magpies all flitting and flying.

Brave creatures squawking with curios invocations.

Demanding the picnic morsels.

‘Goanna’ the children call ‘leave him alone and come away from the stream’ is the answer they hear on the wind.

Horse rides and humour, it’s a festival complete with goat races in the street.

Country Spirit

 

Photographs taken, the views astounding of grannies strange big hat.

Large yellow flowers over burden her brim, as she strains to see little jack swim.

Sugar ants like soldiers in a skirmish, have entered the hampers left unattended.

Swatting and swiping, mum’s frantic hands flashing to save the day.

‘The foods ok, thank goodness’ Nan says so all went on with play.

 

 

Classic cars and bikes triumphantly arrive, for each car enthusiast to spy.

Art on display in a rather plain tent can be bought for a price to pay.

Sparkling opals from the ridge are the treasures of the day, found in this market array.

Hot springs at the ridge take all pains away, or so the miner’s say.

A burly big man watches and notes as security does, where each jewel is placed in the tray.

 

Hot temperatures and magic horizons, dazzle in a luminous shifting display.

Brave awakenings of the dry plains, disturb and awe in banter about the weather.

But the people that you meet, invite you to stay, just one more day.

Take a seat and have a chat don’t rush on by, says each enquiring smile.

Country comradery opposes city aloofness with inquisitive resolute convention.

 

 

The   grass isn’t always greener as the metaphor supposes, but it sure looks green to me.

‘We will all have a jolly good time today’, says Bill, then he enquires ‘chicken, wine or beer for you or wait, are you a vegan?’

The mayor made a speech and he told of the pioneer years, here in this far away land.

He spoke of trust, hardships, solidarity and love of his fellow man.

It’s better known to tourists as the spirit of the bush.

 

 

Beyond the Reef

 

Cool coastal breezes call me, beyond where the surfers go.                          I lurch on rubber feet and shifting sands, toward the broken sea.          Sunrise shatters the gloom with rays of expectant light.                              Beams reflect on the rushing tide; shafts of mirrored fire.                                                                                                                                                               White tops dance and roll to crash upon the shore.                                       Waves indifferent to my entry, surge against me.                                           Costumed in a wet suit coloured black, I glisten in this other skin.            I merge into the aquatic realm, accepting of my fate.                                                                                                                                         Bubbles froth around me, as the current swirls beneath the cresting waves.                                                                                                                             My heart is pounding hard; I thrust toward the deeper sea.                       Fluid with the water, I feel the illusion that I am free.                            I observe the marine milieu as a voyeur sees a game, then realise I’m in the picture and not outside the frame.                                                                                                                                         Reservoirs of oxygen sustain me, in my alien adventure.                               Unconstrained by the ebb and tide, I descend into the depths.                  I surrender now to excitement and waft like a ghost through the night.                                                                                                                           Infinite as the universe, the sea has become my space.                                Echo’s dark and ominous call me further still.                                  Blurred shapes appear as I flip toward that abode where danger lurks,       beyond the reef.                                                                                                      A rock shelf covered in coral, comes into view.                                             The inhabitants of this underwater atoll, hardly ever see a diver pass like me.                                                                                                           Fear eliminated in my mind.       I embrace the rapture of the sea.             A school of brim cautiously pass and peer at me.                                            I drift into a vast kelp infested forest.                                                               My spear stretched out with effervescent speed, to catch a Red Snapper in his sunken garden.                                                                            It struck its mark, the snapper thrashes and flounders to escape.              I checked my time and turned toward the shore.                                         I’ll have a bite fit for a King.                                                                             I’ll sip a glass of red.                                                                                               I heard the breakers call, as they caressed the primal land.                           Out of the shadows, a sleek grey shape disturbed me.                                 The shark circled swiftly but passed into the kelp below.                               I hung my catch upon my weighted belt; I reset my spear to go.                  I was ready for the battle, ready for the affray.                                               Like a bullet he came toward me, his intent not hard to see.                          I held my breath and fired ,then tossed the land away.

 

The honeymoon is over

by Louisa                                                                                                               It was a love affair, it was Kismet.                                                                      It was a tool of magic in a world of opportunities.                                         Flash ‘hold still please, just a little longer’.                                                       Counting now one, two                                                                                        Photographers like magicians, draped in mystery.                                                 Time , stopped in pictures.                                                                                                             Enlightenment  ,intensified and amplified.                                                              Amazement turned to obsession.                                                                           The camera welcomed hedonistic delirious vanity.             Media delighted in exhibitionism.                                                                                              The box brownie, liberated family memories.   The famous and the infamous induced a madness of curiosity.                  Pop idols, movie stars and sportsman created hysteria of publicity with wealth the spin off.                                                                                     war photographer’s brought the conflicts home  with every piece of gore.                                                                                                                            A soldier regal in his uniform was captured forever in a frame.               portraits hang in hallowed halls, to glow in the setting sun.               They shall not grow old                                                                                        It’s just a slice of his life, a moment of his time.                                             Death sanctified his victorious leap into the abyss.                                       But still the picture grabs us with nationalistic pride.                                                                                                         Automated, computerized, digitized camera’s spin us out of control with over exposure.                                                                                             A world entranced and deluded with social media.                                            A selfie uploaded and life condensed                                                          Communication on an epic scale produces catastrophic unrest.                  Fireworks and sparkling nights of celebration , flash and pop.                            A picture can add a bit of flair but the spotlight of the web drives us headlong into consternation.                                                                                                       Miracles of medicine can be shared in a moment.                                           Privacy invaded or face booked away, moral lines crossed with open speculation.                                                                                                              Journalist fire disaster’s with Photographic expose’s to feed the sharks who hunt for blood.                                                                                                           Stories unwind in reels of film with spectacular imaginings…      Unrealistic special effects give rise to plague proportions of people infected with drama driven delirium.                                                              Look and you will see a fractured reality.                                                         The honeymoon is over.