Cleanup

Posted at 1:59 PM, 13/8/2008 by Isobelle

CLEANUP

It was cleanup time today
Too many clothes in the wardrobe!

My clothes are my moods
What I wear
Reflects how I feel,
And I like to remember.

The yellow sheath dress
I wore at 16
To work at the store
On a hot Brisbane day.

The black and white geometric
Shirtdress I wore
At Sydney Easter show
Age 25, with husband!

The green and orange shirt
Boutique shopping in Adelaide
On holidays in summer..
With earrings to match.

The long navy serge skirt
Worn with boots
To work in Canberra..
How lovely and warm it was!

All those long party dresses
Worn in the 60's and 70's!
Long hair and braids,
Frivolous and feminine.

Denim jacket with embroidery
Bought by husband
Worn by both on cool nights
Shopping in Balmain.

That burgundy wool dress
Hours in the making,
Long, worn to weddings,
Such a happy dress!

Beautiful undies
Pink, green, red and blue
Bought in Cheapside
First day in London.

Strange how I remember
Clothes I have worn
So long ago, in
Young and happy times.

But now it is time
To clearout the cupboards.
All goes to charity,

                                                                      But the memories I'll keep!


17.05.08

Pluto

Posted at 5:33 AM, 19/5/2008 by Isobelle

PLUTO

Two years have gone

And I feel like Pluto

An unknown pebble

Captured by the lightest

Tug of gravity

To my world.

I close my eyes

And once again

I feel your arms holding me.

Time has changed nothing

I still want to be

Where you are.

But now I am

Not so sure

That where you are

I would be wanted.

There is a warp in my mind

That matches age and time.

I remember the days of my youth

When love was sunshine,

You were the planet

I orbited, never touching,

Sometimes near, sometimes far.

Now vanquished and vanished.

I wish I believed

Like most people do

That when I die

I will join you

In an afterlife

Of summer sun.

This Pluto cannot believe

That there can be better

Than my youth of summer days,

Better than loving you.

One day gravity will fail me

And I will join the vanished.

If you are somewhere

And if I find you,

Pity me, and welcome me,

For I shall love you always

Until time stops, gravity melts

And the warps of space collapse.

Night Sounds

Posted at 5:08 AM, 19/5/2008 by Isobelle

NIGHT SOUNDS

Train noises jolt through my sleepy head

There's a husky hiss in the microphone

When they make announcements

A low clunk vibrates up from some carriage nether region

Hollow, tired, but always there.

The join between two carriages

Mine and the next

Has some wonderful shrill squeakings.

They sound like old women speed speaking

Too fast to be understood,

But one knows the mood of the conversation,

Or is the mood mine alone?

There is also the bird chorus from the vestibule.

When the track is straight and smooth they go quiet,

Going round curves and corners they shriek!

Somewhere, up the front of the train

Is a rare old rooster having an old man's rant

And behind me a battery of hens is giving him what for!

Every now and then all goes quiet,

Then the conversations start again.

 The hens cluck,

The chunk clunks,

The birds shriek shrilly

And the microphone hisses again.

I have to smile,

Did I really think I would sleep

With all this going on?

14.04.08

Pieces of You

Posted at 1:36 PM, 6/6/2007 by Isobelle

PIECES OF YOU

Sometimes

The words that others sing

Speak for me.

When my words are stilled

And the night is quiet

I listen and hear

The songs resonate

In the cavern of my heart.

So many things I wonder,

So many times to remember,

So many tears to shed,

Yet I know

The patterns of my life

Are spent.

The future is dim

And shrouded,

And time passes.

Yet these words

I must borrow,

Because pieces of you

Are still

Gleaming inside me.

6.6.07

Birthday Dream

Posted at 1:26 PM, 18/5/2007 by Isobelle

The Forest

Posted at 4:27 PM, 29/4/2007 by Isobelle

THE FOREST

I stand in the sweet silent forest of my mind

I listen to the ghosts of dreams in the breezes

I feel the flutter of desires in a butterfly wing

I watch the babble of voices in the trickling brook

I drown the chaos of ideologies in birdsong.

I love this quiet place

Here in my mind.

All the beautiful things

Seen and done in life

Shine like the soft sun of daybreak

Through the treetops.

All the tiresome fears of living

Become unnecessary

Beyond mattering.

In this quiet green silence

I can try to see myself as I am.

29.04.07

Time 2

Posted at 2:42 AM, 25/2/2007 by Isobelle

TIME 2

Time seems infinite

Laid out in years ahead.

I wonder how shall I

Tend this crop of mine?

What shall I do with it?

What shall it do with me?

The years start full of promises

They will never keep.

Like politicians, they lie,

And the years end with the clang

Of a shutting gate.

Finished. Ended. Finite.

The months whisper by

One after another,

Like a solemn parade

That starts with a march

And ends with a stroll.

The weeks are busy

Madly confused, excited.

The Mad Hatter in a hurry

Never getting anywhere.

Forever setting out.

The days, the lovely days,

Start with the cheerful sun

End with the languid moon.

Divided by food and water

Blessed with labour done.

A minute is uncanny,

A minute lasts forever,

Or speeds by while you blink.

It's never where you look

And always where you don't.

Now here's a second

A twinkle, a gleam, a sprite!

Is it here, there or neverwhere?

How long is a second's life?

How do you measure neverwhen?

Watches and clocks and calendars

They measure all this nonsense.

Mr Einstein said time is relative

Your time is relative to mine.

So different folk have different time

And time is money and time is art,

Time is technology, time is philosophy,

And time has a way of healing pain.

Time is told with shadow, stone and water

And clocks are moved

With cogs and wheels and atoms.

Yet we know not what it is.

24.2.07                                                                                                                                           

Differences

Posted at 8:26 PM, 5/2/2007 by Isobelle

DIFFERENCES

My skin.....

Is it pink or white,

Tanned or cream?

Your skin.....

Is it black or brown,

Caramel or cream?

My eyes....

Are they green or grey,

Blue or brown?

Your eyes....

Are they green or grey,

Blue or brown?

I love the same as you

I taste the same as you

I smell the same as you

I hear the same as you.

Yet in some deep and primal

Part of us

There is a fear

Of the unknown....

The different,

The unlike.

The caveman would kill....

21st Century man

Kills with words...

Your face don't fit!

Does your heart

Grieve like mine?

Or is it filled with rage

Against my kind?

My mind thinks the same as yours.

I bleed the same as you.

I cry the same as you.

I laugh the same as you.

Our babies cry the same tears

Our men fight the same wars

Our mothers soothe the same fears.

Our forbears died the same deaths.

We read the same books

We watch the same movies

We do the same sums

We spend the same money.

Tell me, why do we

Give way to our primal man?

Why do we fear each other?

Why are we full of fears?

Please forgive my stupidities 

My prejudice, my fears.

I try hard to see the similar,

Yet my heart, sometimes, is craven.

5.2.2007

Being Happy

Posted at 2:28 PM, 5/2/2007 by Isobelle

 BEING HAPPY

It takes a lot of life

To know what happy is.

There's nothing better

Than a precious day

Worth a year of maybes.

Time is so indifferent

To my little days,

But I remember back

To many times

When I was happy

And knew it not.

When days were bright

And life didn't end,

When I was loved

And loved in return,

Somehow, the days

That I am living now

Seem clearer, more defined.

They are days of peace,

My mind is clear

I feel so strong

And somehow brave.

Oh yes, I'm growing old,

With all that that entails

But now there is one thing

I have,

That leaves me breathless...

My quiet, happy days...

5.2.2007

Bridge

Posted at 10:26 AM, 4/1/2007 by Isobelle

BRIDGE

I walked across the little red bridge

A shadow of old Japan

In the heart of a foreign city,

The glittering koi idling lazily

In the limpidly clear water

Below me.

It is a hot, quiet day

And faintly, in the hazy heat

I hear the cantankerous mumble

Of boiling traffic.

But I can block that from my mind

And rest my senses under the bridge.

They are greedy, these koi.

They think I will feed them,

But I have nothing.

Their colours are bright flashing shadows

Flickering gaudily in the sunshine

Bodies perfect in the water.

Their colours are beautiful.

Spots, streaks, blotches, daubs of orange

Floating in a green oasis under blue skies.

I especially like the gold koi

Like rays of morning sunshine

Just visiting weary earth.

What a pleasant place, this little bridge.

Quiet, beauty and peace to soothe,

A haven in a world gone mad.

But I must move on

And gather my memories to me,

For only memories may last forever.

3 January 2007

Christmas Child

Posted at 11:17 AM, 2/11/2006 by Isobelle

CHRISTMAS CHILD

When I was young

And my world was new.

Christmas was a time

Of magic and pure wonder.

There was something

In the air

That made my child's heart sing.

There was always a tree

decorated, with tinsel,

Paper chains and precious

Glass balls, red and gold.

And snow in a can

To spray

Snow, that we had never really seen.

There were Christmas Carols too.

6am on Christmas morning

My father rose and dressed

Went off to play

In the Sally Anne Band...

Joy in the streets

On the early morning air.

Our home was always crowded

Uncles, aunts and cousins,

Kids six in a bed on the verandah.

Squeals of delight and anticipation

Silenced by sleep on Christmas Eve.

 Awe and wonder

At all the joys under the tree.

A Father dear

Whose annual chore

Was to spend Christmas Day

Repairing our toys from the year past,

Giving new life to loved companions

With a Father's care

 And a carpenter's hands.

A precious Mum,

Whose memories of winter snows

Enthralled us as we pulled our crackers

And ate plum pudding

With cheers of delight

At the silver threepence

Found without breaking a tooth!

Childhood memories

Are precious things

Held in our minds with love.

Does it matter if time

Enhances and embellishes

What we remember?

I'll not forget joys that warm my heart!

1/11/06

Needs

Posted at 9:29 AM, 22/10/2006 by Isobelle

NEEDS

I may be old

And my ego faltering

But there are things

That I don't need.

I don't need a Rolex on my wrist

Or Nike's on my feet.

I don't need sheets upon my bed

That cost a dollar for every thread.

I don't care for cars

That cost the earth

And leave comfort

Way behind.

I don't need a yacht

To sail the seas

Or planes to fly the skies,

I have no need for speed.

A watch is just to tell the time

And shoes to tread the earth.

A white sheet that smells of sun

Can lull me off to sleep.

A car that goes from me to you

To sit on a sandy beach

And breathe the crystal air,

I have no need of more.

I have a need for friends

For love and laughter fine

For quiet hours to listen

To the beating of my mind.

A welcome home at the end of day

And sun in the morning window.

The quiet precious things in life

Are all I need.

16.10.06

Props

Posted at 5:25 AM, 22/10/2006 by Isobelle

PROPS

Cigarettes were handy...

A prop in situations....

Something to do with one's hands.

oooOooo

What is left in life

When all the props

 Are gone from the human edifice?

When parents are no longer there

To guide us, to protect us

To rescue us, even from ourselves?

When lovers are no longer there

To calm us, soothe us,

To help ease the solitude we share?

When religion is no longer there

To guard us, lead us,

To distract us from our very basest fears?

What of the multitude of props,

The little bits of busy-ness,

The many little gods we have

That soothe our seething minds?

One morning I shall wake to find

That none of them are there.

That nothing fits beside us

In this slice of solitude we own.

That the years ahead are there

For me to fill or kill

In whatever way I choose.

There is truth in this aloneness

But it is the death to come

that gives us courage

Just to look at what we are.

22.10.06

Quote

Posted at 8:30 PM, 2/10/2006 by Isobelle

Idealogies separate us.

Dreams and anguish bring us together.

Eugene Ionescu

Anticipation

Posted at 2:54 PM, 1/10/2006 by Isobelle

ANTICIPATION

The past is gone

Dead as Autumn leaves

Dried on the ground.

Nothing is left

But cold winter tears

In my heart.

The wind has blown

White to the bone

The colour in my song.

Nothing is left

But a grey echo

In my life.

The fire is out

Only the ash remains

Lighter than morning dew.

Nothing is left

But unreal reality

In my mind.

All love has faded

Shrunken and stillborn

Silent and still.

Nothing is left

But death to come.

Anticipation.

16.5.05

Just Hold Me

Posted at 2:37 PM, 1/10/2006 by Isobelle

JUST HOLD ME

Don't speak...

Just hold me

In your arms

And chase away the years.

No tears....

Just hold me

With your strength

And keep away the fears.

No sighs

Just hold me

With compassion

And dry away my tears.

Just look

Into my eyes

With loving gaze...

The time to part is near.

16.1.03

You and Me

Posted at 1:12 PM, 1/10/2006 by Isobelle

YOU AND ME

I'm tall

But I have to stretch

To kiss your face.

I'm large

But in your arms

I feel small.

My hand is strong

But held in yours

It seems delicate.

My step is faltering now

But for you I could

And would

Step tall.

My mind is young

But in touch with yours

It grows.

My heart is light

But with you enclosed

It flies.

4.9.01

Mysteries

Posted at 9:06 AM, 29/9/2006 by Isobelle

The Four Mysteries William Waite

MYSTERIES

There are concepts,

Abstractions, ideas

That man has conceived

Because he knows

These will never

Be really understood

In his own lifetime.

Great lives have been and gone

In contemplation and curiosity.

Of these concepts

Time is one,

Consciousnesss,

Space and the Afterlife

All remain Great Mysteries.

All have high priests,

Astronomers, physicists

And psychiatrists,

All to allay our fears

Of the Great Unknown.

But do they?

I don't think they do.

I think every one

Grovels in the dark,

Guesses, estimates,

Pontificates,

But knows little more than I.

I cannot know the great unknowns

I can only guess as others do.

Knowing that there are no answers

To the questions of this life

Gives me tranquillity.

To rail against impossibilities

Is to waste whatever it is