Sunday 23 September 2012

What is love ?


What is Love?

A small white feather drifts towards me-

Hand reaches out-

Softness caresses my skin-

I lean and gently blow the feather

Into the blue.

I watch -caught in its slow motion,

Gentle traveller

Fragile beauty.

Love simply is-

A feather.

Drifting in and out

Of a caress,

A moment,

And the tenderness of its travel-

Its sensitive landing-

To touch a heart.

The mystery of its destination

Is a reflection of the souls yearnings-

It glides, spins, spirals down,

But is uplifted by the breeze-

As the heart is in love.

Love –

Simply is

A feather.
Robyn

Autumn


Autumn

Scribbled in my diary  we are to meet up second day of Autumn,

Strictly business-

 I sit on grass opposite the Fitzroy library waiting for your warm smile,

Autumn conversation as we walk Fitzroy streets is as colourful as the changing leaves,

Cumbungi harvesting as a child,

All things made of sugar and flour,

Russian sunflowers behind wire fences,

Joy behind ugliness,

Graffiti artists and marzipan,

Beauty of industrial buildings,

Time management and pork panini rolls and good company.

Happiness in my autumn soul,

Second day Autumn

Rob 2012

 

 

 

 

Tuesday 11 September 2012

Nan


53 Wordsworth st- Nan

 Rose bordered path,

Leads steeply up towards cream weatherboard,

Californian bungalow.

Blue and purple hydrangeas

In full bloom.

Nan leans over the balcony,

Beckons us in with her smile.

We are young children.

Overnight bags unpacked,

Out back in mum’s old bedroom,

With the mirror on the wall,

Which made my eyes very green.

Cards at the kitchen table,

Crib, 500, donkey and Nan’s favorite sevens.

Nan peels apple skin into a perfect monkey’s tail.

Macaroni pudding, stewed fruit and custard.

Daytime games of imagination-

Horses with brooms,

Their stables under the house,

Trotting up and down the path,

Galloping across the grass.

Pouring water down the gully trap,

Nan’s hair has been rinsed “True steel”.

Sitting at the kitchen table,

There’s neighborhood gossip,

And talk of bowls games and upcoming events.

Getting ready for bed,

Hitchcock’s “To Catch a Thief” in the evening.

Columbine toffees to greedily unravel and devour,

The toffee sticking hard to our teeth.

Nan’s teeth in a plastic cup on the bathroom sink,

Pink bathroom smells of tea rose powder.

Open and shut the bathroom mirror cupboard,

“Cyclax” lipsticks and many Cyclax beauty products,

Dear great Aunty Molly was their accountant.

Yellow pottery vase I made for Nan,

Fake violets bunched inside,

Resting on Nan’s polished side table.

So proud how Nan displayed my hand made gift.

Nan tucks us in tight,

Wrapped in her leopard print dressing gown,

Hair net pinned down carefully,

Large feet encased in burgundy velvet slippers with bows,

We kiss and hug her goodnight.

 Twenty something-

I take my bags inside 53,

Living on my own now, like Nan.

In the evening we talk at length,

Of boys who broke my heart,

We watch telly together.

Nan remembers days past-

We chat from bedroom to bedroom,

Call out goodnight.

One wall separates Grandmother and grand daughter.

So much love my Nan has given me,

Rob 2009

 

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Swim


Swim

Submerging my heavily pregnant body in the warmth of the pool,

Trademark  pink  goggles enclosing  green eyes.

Weightless I move slowly through the water,

Taking my baby for a swim – rocking side to side,

The silence under the water is sublime,

The silence lulls me into a multitude of future dreams,

How I will love you when you are born,

The things we will do together,

Oblivious of the vast changes in my life’s landscape ahead.

The end of each lap – rub my stomach in circular motions,

You have gone to sleep.

Heave myself from the pool- proud of my huge rounded “baby” tummy.

I know you will love water just like me.

Rob 2011

 

 

 

Bougainvillea Dreaming


Bougainvillea Dreaming

Canopy of purple petals cascade down my hair,

Toss my hair and bougainvillea confetti,

Scatters to grass beneath me,

I lie alone on a bed of soft purple,

Look up at the blue sky,

Through a mass of purple vines,

I am in a dream far away from reality,

Floating on purple clouds of sunshine,

What is my truth ?

My truth is oneness,

Aloneness but completeness,

My truth is simple,

Self acceptance,

Abundance of love to give and more,

Intangible dreams of purple milkshakes with purple syrup, purple ice-cream and purple cheesecake,

My Bougainvillea dreams.

 

Robyn 2011