Did the pale lamplight
Bring them in beneath my door
Searching for the moon?
MA ©️
Poetry
UNDRESSED, unshowered, unlikely…..
It’s mid afternoon
Cramped hands
Anxiety ignored as I continue to compile my Poetry
Into Book form
Writing my life’s work down upon the page….
Feeling stressed but exultant….
I will still have gut eating debt
My house will forever need cleaning
But, but….
What if I ignored the need….
It would be as if I never
Existed…..
August 2017
Seasick
SEASICK
Not a feeling of nausea
But a longing so deep
It beats in your blood
Floods your guts
Bleeds through vein
And bone
Right to the hidden marrow
It won’t let go
And in your shell like ear
Or mind’s eye
The darkening thundrous sky
Curves over a stormy sea
Gulls wheel, and scream and cry
For teeming fish below
Not for me
Who, washed up
By the high tide
Land locked
Screams silently
As the moon rides
The ebb and flow
Within…..and I go
In endless dreams
Down to the water’s side
To swim
MA Winter 2015
BEYOND THE JOINING
BEYOND THE JOINING
She loves the afterglow….that lull, when two bodies cease the great struggle towards the “Little Death”, when the pulse quietens. Loves to explore the unfamiliar territory of his face….to go beyond his eyes, touch his still wet lips with delicate fingertips…..trace the strong planes of cheek bones, the thick dark stubbled hair around his mouth and chin, finding the lovely unknown terrain, of him…..and then returning to the pull of his gaze, his strong beautiful face, and finally at rest….looking back at him, into him. Those clear blue eyes, the soul of him.
Excerpt from Breaking Taboos
PROLOGUE……The old burial Ground
They moan and cry out, torn from their final resting place in the old burial ground, dug up from the dark earth with callous disregard for the lives they once lived, loaded onto carts by the moon’s dark, as the tired old horses hoofbeats ring out on cobbled stones…..taken from all they once knew as home…..muted by death, none can hear their troubled cries…..and way out across the waters of the Bay, the Plovers shrill pipings echo the lone piercing wails of the old woman as her grieving voice floats out across the waves. She feels the lift and shifting of the bodies deep within, hears her long dead lover, his soul self calling. “Come find me, come my love, my heart, come find my bones”
WHEN DAY IS DONE
As light begins to fade
She gathers up her tools, regretfully
Birds softly twitter to each other
In the far off trees
The evening dim is falling
She hears vixens calling
To their cubs nearby
A wild, lonely, piercing cry
And feels the urgent pull inside herself
For him
Apron stuffed with fragrant herbs
Aromatics, medicinal, perfumed
Hands full, back tired from bending
She stands up, easing stiffness
Stretching
Suddenly needing comfort
The warmth of him
********
The long days work is done
There’ll be more tomorrow
His body aches from chopping wood
He still feels the axe blade’s rhythmic swing
All the way from thigh muscles
Hips, shoulders
Through to his hands
Clenching and unclenching them
The song of steel on wood
Still ringing in his ears
So that he doesn’t hear her coming
Until she stands before him
Lays down her basket
Moves quietly behind him
Lays hands upon his shoulders
Strong fingers work their way
Deep into hard flesh
She feels him yield
Let all tiredness fall from him
Pain and aching bones
Cramped muscles
Easing, loosening
Letting go
*******
And now as darkness closes round them
The smell of her surrounds him
Fresh, sharp, pungent, clean
The gatherings of her calling
White Lady, She
Yet now her call is silent
As she leans in towards him
As she breathes pinesap, sweat and whisky
The deep male smell of him
Irresistible, intoxicating
He gathers her to him then
Takes her small hand in his
All tiredness gone from both of them
Revived, there is nothing now but hunger
Desire, one for the other
******
One flesh
Beloved husband
Cherished wife
Like the auld story of the Greylag Geese
Mated for life.
Night sounds
A sudden downpour
Falls heavy on my roof
Way in the distance
A dog barks
And then another
Calling out across the rooftops
A train passes through
Distant rhythmic rumble
*******
The rain is gone
Dogs are quiet
The frij hums
MA©️ May 2013
Crow
You big bold bird
Strutting, cawing, muttering
Fluffing your feathers
Under a tree
You don’t see me
But I see you
And laugh
*****
You in handsome plumage
Black as night
You don’t take fright
In this concrete wasteland
I see you there
Being Crow, nothing more
As supermarket shoppers
Slam their doors
Rev their motors
And roar on by
*****
They don’t see
As I do
I see you
Crow
MA©️ March 2016
….
THE COMING OF WINTER
The world turns, Autumn’s leaves lie soaked and heavy on the cold ground, breaking down, going back to earth. She revels in the clean clear cold morning air, sharp, raw, invigorating. The early morning ritual of lighting the fire….raking over yesterday’s ashes to find the glow beneath, the heat to bring life to her bundle of twigs and eucalyptus leaves. Smoke drifts, filling the cold rooms with the scent of forests, and within moments her thoughts float above the smoke, remembering…..remembering him.
Excerpt from “Breaking Taboos”, an Erotic Fantasy