Rocks and ocean

Your rocks line the shore,
Strong, solid, dependable;
Standing tall through aeons,
Offering your protection
To the lonely wanderer,
With dark secrets hidden
Amongst the cool shadows
Of your mysterious caves.

I am the restless ocean,
Crashing against your shore,
Inexorably eroding your rocks,
Bringing you gifts from my depths,
Seaweed, kelp, a castaway’s body,
Washed into your waiting arms,
As my waves kiss your face,
Gently licking the crevices
Of your secret caves
With longing, desire;
I tease you with my seaspray,
Before running away on the tide,
While you stand, passive,
Immobile; we are drawn together
By the wind, stormy encounters
That leave my turbulent waters
Surging against you, writhing
With my tempestuous nature.
It is cool in the shadows,
Where your bald dome
Thrusts into the wild ocean,
As I stare into your rock pools.

One day, little ones will play
On our beach; children of the rocks
And the stormy ocean.

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A lover’s knot

woman on a bed

A gentle knight, to win a lady’s hand,
Made his bid, boldly took a stand.
His sword once wielded fiercely in the darkness,
Succumbed to his lady’s touch of softness.
Instead of giving counsel to his king,
The sweet smell of arousal enchanted him.
While outside a battle raged on through the night,
His mind was filled with sensual delight.
This warrior who knew each battle by heart,
Was no match for a gentle lady’s art.
A fighter who struck his boldest enemies dead,
Now lay enraptured in his lady’s bed,
For medieval woman has her wiles;
Gentle touch of silk, secret smiles.
As the enemy set the castle all afire,
The knight was tossed on oceans of desire,
Embracing her and all her sweet perfection,
Embroiled all the while in love’s deception.
Her cheeks were warm and flushed by his touches,
In his eyes she lay there like a Duchess.
Her gentle purse of tantalising silk,
Ached for his burst of scalded milk.
With fire through the castle raging mad,
The knight gave his lady everything he had.
As they reached for heaven, gentle arms entwined,
The eyes of the brave knight now were blind,
And with veiled screams at night their song was sung,
As he engulfed her with his honeyed tongue.
When he slowly drew out from his lady’s glove,
She looked at him with dewy eyes of love.
Her face once seemed so charming and beguiling,
Sent shivers down his spine now with her smiling.
Outside the castle walls had then been taken,
The king and all his knights were now forsaken.
The ultimate sacrifice made for her lover,
As she lay in the strong arms of another.

Patience

1
Shivering with cold
on my morning walk
in a Canberra fog.

2
It is less than a week
until my birthday;
another diary page;

the magic of words,
that voice in my head,
soundtrack to my footsteps.

3
Yesterday it was dark,
eyes staring at nothing
but the morning silence;

tomorrow will be better,
he won’t hit me ever again,
choking my emotions;

today, a song in my ears
reaches into my heart,
where it is impossible.

4
I don’t know what it means
to fall in love with you,
but I could be a fool;

tonight, sheets crumpled,
slowly undressing
fingers on the keyboard;

what happens next
between a man and a woman
could make me cry;

but the radio tells me
to have a little patience,
waiting for your warmth.

Real men

It is still dark when the utes rush by,
Each one going faster than the other,
Fuelled by diesel and testosterone;
Cigarettes glowing red, lighting eyes
In a cabin full of yesterday’s smoke.
It’s too cold this morning for the dog,
Huddled at the back of the tray,
Empty stubbies, plumbing tools;
Arms hunched over the wheel,
Bleary eyes, vague memories
Of last night in the pub, groping
His way through the darkness,
Blondes with long legs, short skirts;
Pissing further than his mates,
Louder, drunker, angrier
Than the next guy, throwing
Punches when nobody looks;
Hair trimmed into a mullet, full sleeve
Of tattoos that have no meaning,
Painted pictures of what it means
To be a real man today.

Seduction

feathers

Seduction, emotional pleasure,
violins playing our song;
foreign bodies, soft and silky,
tangled in chaotic blankets,
screaming out your name –

before jealousy, the child of love:
insecure emotions rule promises,
seeking love, seduction of the spirit;
what did you feel when we kissed?
were you waiting for just that moment?
when parted lips touch, eyes closed,
the world set aflame;

love offers no answers;
questions and confusion,
illusions of romance
bring bodies together.

– last night’s makeup
smudged on empty glasses;
clothing tossed on the floor
in such an awful mess;
then there was that last conversation,
trusting a little less each time.

but here we are again,
wrapped around each other
in guilty pleasure,
before that long drive home.

Book review – The Women’s Pages by Debra Adelaide

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I thoroughly enjoyed this book and thought it was cleverly constructed, intertwining the story of the main character, Dove, with the novel she herself was trying to write. At first I must admit I found this confusing and a little hard to keep track of which character was real and which was fiction. About halfway through the novel I came to the realisation that both stories were a mixture of reality and fiction, blurring the lines between the two as Dove searched for the meaning of her own mother’s death. I often get emotional when reading and this book was exceptionally moving with its themes of love, loss, fragments of memory, traces of family stories and how the truth gets distorted or hidden behind suburban windows. Maybe it is a human trait to need a connection with the past and the lives of our parents provide that like – it makes a poignant story when these connections are lost. Read The Women’s Pages, I’m sure you will love it.

Molly-Louise

xx

Romeo and Juliette

Kate was leant against the wall, one foot raised and resting on the wall so that her bent knee pushed toward Ben. He tried not to look, even though he knew it was there, because then she would know. Kate watched his eyes and smiled because she knew what he was thinking. She saw the uncertainty in his pupils. Why doesn’t he just kiss me? Ben saw all this, but couldn’t explain the swelling he felt inside as his eyes flicked down and caught a glimpse of her golden thigh. Kate looked away and sighed. Ben was talking again but she had stopped listening. She dropped her leg and looked at her watch. He thought her eyes looked grey now, rather than blue and they no longer looked into his face. The arch of her eyebrows framed those eyes and a wisp of brown hair fell across her face. Ben felt clumsy and foolish for not making the right moves. “I don’t s’pose you want to go out some time?” His tone was flat, more a statement than a question. She raised her eyes again and smiled. “I’d love to.”

It was real to me

It was real to me;
Those promises and hopes
Of sunshine on her cheek,
Warm thoughts
Occupied by feelings,
Wound together
Under sheets,
Seeking truth
In those eyes;
Words of love,
Concupiscent,
Brought shelter
From the rain
In her touch;
The autumn palette
Of her hair, eyelashes,
Like autumn leaves
Trembling in the breeze,
Impetuous with desire
Meet my lips,
Consummating dreams.

Love and time

Hungering for love –
When time stops
At night, and all he sees
Are the empty spaces
Of love unreturned,
Watching until the grey dawn
Appears outside the window;
A girl’s face, wide eyes,
Open and clear,
Calls out to him
Like a guilty angel,
Long golden hair
Wound in his fingers,
Stroking her face,
Her naked body lying hidden;
He sees her beauty now,
Crazed by love’s desire,
With wet eyes;
Those beautiful eyes,
Grey and clear,
Flashing wild, illegitimate love,
Now staring, unseeing,
For love is done,
There is no answer
To the silence.

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