betterdays

betterdays Aug 2017

you bring to me
your offering
of  love

you place it gently
upon my sleeping breast

and the retreat
to the chair in the corner

and sit, content
to wait til I awake

you watch me
with eyes
full of  adoration

hoping your token
will be sufficient
and bring praise

i awake....to find
a dead mouse
on my chest

in shock
i scream
long and loud
i do confess

you are confused
this is you best
you bring to me

and i yowled  at it

you slink away
thinking these
human things
are difficult
to please

next time
i must bring
a baby rabbit
back to the nest

our newish cat...has started bringing in his kills, firts it was bugs and snails, then little lizards, on the weekend the lovingly present mouse....this afternoon on the kitchen floor a rabbit kit......
...he now has a collar and bell....and we are looking into a cat enclosure..
the force seems to be strong in this one.

Aug 2017

Nuha Fariha

Bone Heavy

Some days my bones weigh heavy and I
Can hear creaking down the back of my
Spine it sounds like my grandmother's
Chair in the middle of the night when
She sits in an empty room and knits
A spool of thread jumbled forgotten
Slowly unraveling this body of mine

Some days my bones weigh heavy from
The lives I am not living and from the life
That I am and my chest constricts my
Heart thumps as fast as the hummingbirds
Wings and my ears fill with the sound of
waves crashing on some distant shoreline
washing dried remains of a moored whale

Today I am carrying my bones forward
Pressing out the air bubbles between
The ligaments and presenting them to
You in a porcelain case bound with a
Scarlet ribbon darker than my blood
So you can wash them with a new light

#dark #depression

betterdays Aug 2017

sunny.....

sun breaking the horizon
in a golden orange hue
promising another
unseasonably warm
winters day

i stand in your doorway
catching those last moments
of small boy dreams
the liitle tuxedo cat
creating eternity at my feet
his motor putt-purring away

in the kitchen eggs are scrambling
and coffee is being poured into large cups
by the aging surfer dude, who has already
been down to commune with the sea

i call to wake you and as your eyes open
you smile, the cat abandons me
to sail into your arms a frenzy of love
and whiskers, you laugh and laugh

today...is going to be a good day

Aug 2017

Emma Cooper

To The Indigenous Women I Know

I love the way you throw your hand out the window when you drive;
Careless and free,
feeling the rush of wind pass through the space between your fingers,
the earth’s breath kissing your knuckles.

I love the way you go barefoot when we walk through the woods.
People passing by throw strange glances your way,
and you tell them they’d understand,
if only they took their shoes off too.
They do not know the softness of pine needles under bare toes.
They have no connection with the ground under their feet,
it does not speak to them how it does to you.

I love the way you sing with your eyes closed,
focused on the sound of the drums, the sound of that ancient heartbeat.
The language sliding off your tongue a victorious cry
that we are still here, and we haven’t forgotten.
They may have tried to pry it from our lips,
but songs fly up from your lungs, like sparks from a fire
that is still burning strong.

I love the way you laugh, throwing your head back,
letting loose your joy into the air,
pollinating the space nearby with your hard-earned light.
The world may be a dark place,
but you cast that brilliance wherever you can,
and it gets a little brighter.

-Emma Cooper

betterdays Aug 2017

the beginings of abscence

ABSENCE, hear thou my protestation
    Against thy strength,
    Distance, and length;
Do what thou canst for alteration:
  For hearts of truest mettle
  Absence doth join, and Time doth settle*

While she sits in her chair
vaguely following the conversation
she also drifts away in time and inclination
to care for the important things we discuss
in many ways she is beyond those cares
her decision has been made
and we but sound and fury
isee she is now more complete
and composed than of recent days
for her there is hope in the path she takes

i cannot begrudge her the choice she has made
as she said her age and medical disposition
means she is already walking that road.

but as daughters do I peer forward even now
and feel the lack of her grace in daily events
Even today as we make plans, her abscence
whilst still being here is a vast gap of darkness
that we all avoid with plattitudes and brightness

In our private hearts we do rail against the
happenstance injustice that befalls the matriarch
we struggle with the alteration to the long march home
we come together to watch as we fall apart in small
and large measures...

In our minds we pledge the best,
in our hearts we pray for speed
We know she has forever etched
herself into our bones and being
but we quietly sorrow at her growing
absence...apart from her memories
and leavingd

*His mind hath found
    Affection’s ground
Beyond time, place, and all mortality.
  To hearts that cannot vary
  Absence is present.

Quotes taken from Present in Abscence John Donne.
This poem originally written as a ode to the love of his wife..
but in reading it anew this week it struck me in some parts as an apt description of my mother's (and our larger families circumstance) at present..my mother elderly and with a number of health issues, has been givin a cancer diagnosis..after medical consultations, she has decided to take the path of pallitive care over radical surgery etc..
This poem is more of me recording our coming to terms with her decision and being able to support her as best we can...

This is an easy thing and no easy thing..

I am not looking to open discussion into the merits caner treatments,
holistic treament or eunthenasia...am just looking to write down my thoughts.

The decision is my Mum's and has been made....Thanks

betterdays Aug 2017

oblivious

the small dog
attached to the long lead
has a tail that is blurred
with happiness
as he wanders through
the market village
tongue lolling
nose questing the air
for the myriad of  scents
he is happy curiosity
in a brindle coat

i watch amused at his vigour
as i drink from an enamel mug
holding a wonderful local bean coffee
eat warm coconut mango muffins
and ponder the purchase
of some artisan glass jewllery

my boys having scoffed their muffins
are off to see the woodworkers
the golden child hoping
to add to his collection
of wooden puzzles
his father to chat with
other lovers of woodgrains

we will meet later
after i have bought, applebox honey
collected by dave the beekeeper
portabella mushrooms the size of saucers,
to make stuffed fetta mushies for dinner
and all the other green and organic vege
i can find.  some prawns and a mud crab.
lunch tomorrow,  olive bread, olive tappenade
stuffed olives, some goodies for the biccie tin

and some of these coffee beans....

the dog raises it's leg against the canvas
of the tent down the pathway
before carrying on....
oblivious