BLOOMS AFIRE



'Stone of Silence'  by  Trish



A violent wind from everywhere,

Cut as a knife through flesh and bone.

And the Ave of living breath

Flowed from hearts and tongues of stone.

Bloomed, bled, soft and  alive sounds,

Flooded life, over all the land,

poured out a pure soulful song,

breathed-breath into rock hard ground.

WHAT ARE THESE?



  '???'  by  Trish 

They could be little rosebuds

Or even little balls

Or material for a costume,

To wear at a local hall.

The  black lines could be roadways,,

Folk use each day for work,

Or it could be just decoration

For a party or a church.

It could be all of many things

shapes can tell a lot

But whatever it is, it  isn't,
A lot of little spots.

Tushie   28/5/11

                                                                                                      

 

CONCRETE AND COLOR

'A Paper Stage'  by  Trish

A few encouraging words, were my inspiration, to play color over every blank-gray place within me.

My imagination, scrawled, scribbled and rubbed  into the yawning emptiness, smudged  colors, until the raw mass created a palate of hues.

Here was my answer! I could dig my way around the dark inner misery, with color!

But, would I also destroy the promise?

Did darkness too, carry part of the  promise of new life? A promise that could only be born, if  I passed through the mad-maze, of all the darkest concrete corridors within me. Was the darkness a color? Could I slowly make my way forward and embrace the darkness as I went, welcome it, as part of me?

At the very thought, I felt color flow through me. First my hand, and then all of me, falling with color into page after page, while an endless procession of shapes and faces, paraded themselves, across the miniature paper stage, prepared for them

A new shape emerged,

It was a stepping stone.

 But, surely, it would take more than  just one step?

What to do?... Wait.

As I waited, I tried to create shapes of my own intention.

I read, that lines, in a certain direction, changed a direction, and that different colors could  change a distance. But rules couldn't penetrate my world. My shapes, and faces had intentions of their own They would not be anchored. Boundaries defied definition. Like little children seeking refuge, my images continued their timeless drift, in the fluid world within.

And waited.

Tushie    20/7/01

A WEB OF GOSSAMER

'This is Tushie'  by  Trish

Be well you are healed and so,

Dance your fiery dance, in the veiled

Firewater of your faith.

Breathe the brimming darkness,

Distilled and refined to the depths of

Age upon Age.

Be well for you are healed.

Tushie   30/5/01

IT'S ALL IN THE MIND



'Mr Ribsky'  by  Trish



"Stop right where you are, you're not to enter this place,

 not unless I invite you to come in.

Oh, you intend to keep on with your intrusion. So be it.

You'll be sorry you ignored my warning.

The last man to enter this abode without my invitation, never left. I ate him.

I began chomping and chewing early in the  morning,

and kept it up all day.

By night there were nothing but bones to tell the tale of him. My devoted friends crushed the left over bones into dust. I used it as face powder. It lasted for ever.

Well, for the short time you'll be here, you might as well enjoy yourself.

Would you like to take a champagne swim in my marvellous marble bath? 

Of course you would! While we wait for my dear friends to prepare the bath, I have to warn you it takes absolutely ages to fill it with all those bottles of fizz. Its really  an enormous amount of work to maintain such a magnificent,  marble monument.  But all of my friends chip in and that takes care of  that for me! Now! as I was saying,

while we wait, let's eat the food they've provided.! Fruit, cheese, chocolates. Wonderful!!

Lord you hardly eat enough to keep a mouse alive. I like mice.

Once I lived in a building full of  the little darlings.

Their small, smooth furry bodies are so cute. But they have such sad, elfin faces.

If I was unfortunate enough to see  one with their sweet eyes closed in death,
my heart  would almost break.

Come man, don't look so dismal, enjoy your last minutes or hours on this earth.
Ha! Ha!, At last! My friends have informed me, our champagne bath is ready.

Off with your clothes my fine fellow, and  please! stop shaking. Is it fear or cold that causes you to tremble so? Of course! it's fear! Don't you think this warm champagne is the most delicious experience?  Of course you do! I could luxuriate in it for ever. Just one more thing then we're ready. Faithful friends, music please! And be sure your instruments are tuned to perfection. Play as if you are an orchestra  from heaven. Play as you've never played before or will again!  Well even if you do play beyond yourselves on another occasion, my new found friend, Mr Intruder, won't be around to hear it. Now, my new found friend, as soon as the drums begin to roll, take a slow, deep breath,.. and ..under  wheeeeeeeeee go!

Mr Intruder! Mr. Intruder! You silly man! Next time I won't fish  you up! I thought you were going to stay under forever! Don't guzzle the champagne like that! The way you're gulping it down one could  believe you had the capacity of a camel! I said, stop drinking!!

My late husband, 'Mr Ribsky' may he rest in peace,' he too used to drink  the champagne while we swam and bathed. Why he'd even sneak into our marble bathroom, and steal from the store of bottles kept especially  for our marble bath bathing. That's his picture on the wall there to your right. He'd put on a lot of weight just before that picture was taken. He was never any oil painting, but that picture just doesn't do him justice. I am one who always gives credit where it's due, and that is not the real him, no! it is not the Mr Ribsky I was married to. He was a very kind man, he wore his heart on his chest, always had done. I warned him,about the heart on the chest business and the champagne issue,  but he wouldn't listen. He came to a very nasty end. What was his end? You'd like to know?  Really? Well then, let me tell you. It happened like this. One night just as our Grandfather clock struck midnight, on the very last stroke,  from far away, we heard a haunting cry, it was..........

                                                       (to be continued)

Tushie              1991

HOT ICE



'Detached'   by   Trish



Image 1

She is frozen with the cold rage of humiliation.

Of mind, body, and battered emotion.

She doesn't mind this icy state,
she's learned it helps keep her safe.

She and it go hand in glove,
it's the land of those who live without love.

It keeps her tormentors from her love and hate,
those who'd  deterrmine,  predict her fate.

Long ago she'd slammed shut the door, turned the key,

closed her ears and eyes, no more to hear or see.

Tushie   1987'

'Happy Days'  by Trish

Image 2

She is sturdy, and supple of limb

See how she sweighs, bends with the wind.,

Her eyes are wide with excitement and wonder,

that never dims, at the loudest of  thunder.

Her moves are those of a lively pup,

or a mare that's destined for a Melbourne Cup!

Sometimes she feels like a big red ball,

full of warmth and love, for herself, and for all.

Tushie   2005

THE SPIRIT AND ITS WAY



'Flowers of the River'  by  Trish

Things of the spirit can be,
fearful,

strange,
a message, a symbol.

There is a river, it goes on forever,

there is a raft, it sails into sight,

on it are people,

wearing clothes white, and wonderful,

People are moving  to the raft's edge,
surely it is not what I suspect.
One by one, they swoon
into the river,
as they fall and rise, dip and drift ,
their pure white clothes spread  out
as fronds of color, to marry them ,
with the rivers endless journey.

Tushie   1993

SITTING IN THE MALL

'Until Death Do Us Part'  by  Trish

One day, after shopping,  I sat down to rest on a seat in a Mall.
The man beside me started up conversation. He told me
"I'm on holidays with my wife, we live in Tasmania.
We've waited a long time for this holiday, by God we have!
and we're going to make tthe most of it believe you me!"

He talked about the sights he and his wife had enjoyed ,  A young girl sat down on the other side of the man. He turned to her and said exactly what he'd already told to me.The young girl said, "I'm from interstate myself, I'm looking for cheap accomodation, I'm almost broke".

The man  shifted closer to the girl, and a strange thing happened, he began to speak very fast and to get angrier by the second. This is what he said.

"I could help you,
I've got more money than I know what to do with,
but she wouldn't let me give a scent to anyone.
She knows every detail of my life. Where we're staying,
she does more work than the staff!
The beds are pulled out every morning, mattresses turned over,
blankets spread out to air, it drives me crazy and so does she!
Yes, I could help you, but I wouldn't dare.
My son is as big a pressure as the wife. Sex! Sex!
that's all he can think of! He's obsessed with it! He makes me sick with his, his..."

The man seemed lost for words.  A few days later I passed the man and his wife, a miserable looking woman, having morning tea in the Mall. As I approached, I noted the woman's high pitched ugly tone. Even when well past, I could  hear her voice. She was full of complaints about the weather, the lazy people in this world, the poor service these days and more. I'd actually caught the man's eye as I approached,  but I thought it best not to acknowledge him, it was clear from the startled dart of his eye's he agreed with me.

PRESCIOUS - MOMENTS



'Breath of Life'  by  Trish

Bathed in sunlight, near the edge of the beach , near great black boulders,
created from small smooth rocks and seawater,
I discover a pond. 
Large enough  to paddle in
and to observe.

There are, fairy shells, tiny swirls of  sand,
strands of seaweed, strange crawling, swimming,
miniature shapes and energy
from the warm water, it calms jaded nerves,
stills  the restless mind, brings me new life.

Tushie   1991


.

POSITIVE & NEGATIVE (while waiting for a train)



'Wounded'  by  Trish

 He said, "You know, people don't like bitter people.

And another thing I'll tell you, don't expect people to

listen to your problems, because they won't!

You know why they won't?

It's because they want 'pos..it..tivity! Please'!

I learned that years ago.

At first I used to only drag out the word, 'positivity'.

but now I drag out the 'please' as well, it sounds better".

He is still young, but his face is hard, his round green eyes 

shine a dark light; there's something in the dark light?

"They've written about me in this lovely new book on sport.

It talks about me when I was a prize fighter, that was before ......

no, people don't like negativity. I don't like either side of the coin myself, neither make a good bedmate. They are like two prize fighters, that just keep on going, despite the punishment inflicted by the other".

Tushie 1992

SILENCE AND SOUNDS

'Drifting Sound'  by  Trish

Sounds may envisage heaven.

Hear a waterfall cascade its grandeur, a bird sing its full throated song, or hear the cry of a new born breathe into life. Hear laughter ring out its joy and fill a waiting heart.

Sounds may envisage hell.
Guns, bombs, explode death, whisper the last breath on the lips of those loved, those not.

 Sounds can send secrets, carried by the wind. Urgent messages rapped out on locked-barred doors. Rains flood roof tops, streaming sounds that roar, gush, pour and splash, as if to bury a life time's tears, deep within hard ground. 

Tattered cloth flutters its sound,  against  the bare legs, of one who flees in fear, brushes grasses ,with their own silvery echo.

Sounds can envisage color,
in the dry crush of  leaves  under bare feet, as children  play,
hide,  pick,  pluck and tear at bark, to reveal the  flesh pink of a Salmon gum.

Perhaps sound can envisage all?

I often 'feel' an elusive sound,
 not heard nor seen, only sensed
 made perhaps by those,
who now murmur their, soundless eternal prayer.

Tushie

THE WRITER'S FRIEND ( over heard in a cafe)



'Lady Bird'   by   Trish

  "If anyone asks me what I do, I reply with pride, and dignity,  I'm a writer, yes I write! 

True, I've not as yet had anything published,

but absolutely everybody knows it's an

almost impossible field to break into, and besides,

 the crown jewels have already, been filched!

What do I mean by the crown jewels? Filched?

Opportunities, connections to those who pull the strings
that make the wheels of the world turn. No, a better word
than turn is spin!
All the people with power, in my area, of creation,
 have had, their pet poets, writers, wisdom warriors,
of the future, decided upon. long ago.

How do I know this? Experience! oh naive one, experience! And keeping my eyes and ears open at all times.
Who chose the people now in power, before they were in power? How should I know? Those sort of questions
that lead nowhere, will get you exactly that, nowhere!

If there's one thing a writer can not afford, it is to be
distracted. Focus is the key!

write, write, write, then whittle it all down, down to nothing!
until the essence of it has been distilled once and forever!
Then put the cork in the bottle, and pop it in the post box, off to an editor!

Well thanks for the chat,  I thought you seemed a bit down when you arrived.
Hope I've lifted your spirits, and do keep up the good work,
your style is bound to find a corner one day. After all, your writing is so easy to read, one,
 need barely think about it. By the way, my choice of the word filched, was poor, not nearly strong enough".
Bye.

Tushie     1986

SILVER AND GOLD



'Emma'  by  Trish



See this, how it shines, silver and gold?

How warm and good it is.

What is it you ask? It's my love.

Won't you accept  it?

Hm, yes, it is  a dangerous word,

especially, when  afraid. of it.

What say, we play a game, you hide, 

and with closed eyes, I'll seek you out.

If I fail to find you, I'll go on my way,

Wait! I've not yet closed my eyes.

Tushie      1991

THIS CHILD



'Yearning'  by  Trish 



I cannot press close enough

to soil, rocks, sand and mountains.

Rise high enough, to touch sun moon and stars.

Drink with my eyes enough rivers, rain or seas.

Love enough men, women, children,

to appease my hunger or satisfy my thirst.

Tushie    1989

THE GIFT



'Earth Mother All At Sea'  by  Trish 

If I possessed the gift of discernment,

I'd say to the suffering soul,

'Come let me help you,

with that stretch of tautness within.

The tautness that holds, rocking horses and dark dreams.

Dreams of lost and marauding brothers'.

I'd say 'take my hand, let us walk together,

over this rough ground, across this stony bridge, built

for souls like us. See, how as one, we pass freely

 in and out

of the sunless mania, through the moonless night?'

Yes, all this and more I'd say, if I possessed the gift.

THE DREAM FIDDLER



'Deep Sleep'  by  Trish

This is what I dreamt, and this is how it went.
I was seated (in my dream) at a small ornate writing desk,

set far back on a mountain  ledge.
Printed on a small sign in front of me, were the words  "Welcome to Pearl Mountain". The letters looked to be created from pearls of the darkest gray, or even black, and they were set out on a square slate of mother of pearl

Pearls of palest pink, full of rose fragrance, rested beneath my bare feet. Ribbons of iridescent  light streamed from the pearls and surrounded me.

 I understood immediately what I was about, I was writing upon pages of the  heart, with the ink of friendship. I'd written 'Friendship is the only path, to the heart of the other'.

I clearly remembered  (in my dream)  how I'd  had to travel along a  narrow gravel road, before ascending Pearl Mountain.
The road was bordered on either side, with trees of a russet tone. Leaves fallen from the branches remained suspended mid-air. A purple, mist or perhaps a haze, surrounded each tree, and emanated a perfume of, I really can't say?
 I've never encountered such a delicate fragrance outside of the dream.
The usual scary things that, lurk around me, (outside of my dreams) were there,
 hiding behind trees and bushes, scuttling and shuffling one minute, stone still the next.

I'd shouted as  I'd hurried on "I know you're up to no good,
 but you can't trick me, because I'm up to lots of good".
Behind me, a laugh cackled its evilness. But, I just didn't have time to bother,
because I was on my way to the very top of  Pearl Mountain.

 I called out,  ( in a voice nothing like mine)
"Friend, Friend, Wise Friend, please wait for me".

At the step, which looked like the last to the very top,
I lost my breath; as I frantically searched within myself,
I sat, or more like fell, onto one of the two chairs
placed at the ornate writing desk, and panted and gasped.
The child voice that calls  for help,
started up in my ears.

"There's trouble, trouble
more than double"

(whenever my breath is stolen, or is in danger, the child voice is really urgent))


As was the case outside of my dreams, so it was inside,
I could find  barely enough breath to stay alive.
And that, if you can recall,  is pretty much
where I began my dream story.

In the next part of my dream, another  light joined  the  rippling ribbons.
 But, this wasn't a 'rippling', it was a towering, intense, narrow  beam
that circled and  pressed towards
 the centre of the ribbons of color.  This  light was the
'Wise Light of Pearl Mountain'! I just knew it!

I've no idea, how I came to think this way, about the 'Wise Light',
or how I knew about  colored pearls, but in my dream, I just did.

Here was my chance to uncover as many problems as  possible,
 and sort them out once and for all, so I went straight to the point.
I asked the 'Wise Light' what I could do, to understand my heart's intentions,

towards the following.

MY TROUBLE'S LIST
1. the Fiddler of emotions
2.  my murky dreams
3.the unseen things that scuttled behind me, or in front of me
4. the child voice in my ears, calling for help
 5. the sound of crunching, munching glass in my ears,
 6.  the giant bear of  gray smoke, that haunted me night,
     and day.
7. And, most important of all, how to keep my breath  safe
when fearfulness entered  to steal it.

Although I talked as fast as I could, I had to leave a lot unsaid,
there were just too many problems to get all of the answers in one visit.

There weren't any, real answers, to speak of that is, but there was something.

It may have been 'a feeling? or a certain sense?'

Whatever it was, it gave me a feeling of great happiness.

Then from the same 'certain sense',

I felt it was time to leave, and to return another day.

As I descended  'Pearl Mountain', the terrain kept changing before my eyes.
Prickles and all sorts of  sharp things, tore at my bare feet, fierce black arrows  zipped above my head. At times I was so wobbly, I was afraid I'd fall, so I picked up a stout stick to steady
myself, then a second stick, before I  finally arrived safely back at the gravel road.

The terrain there, had also changed,  it was now barren and the wonderful perfume had gone.
There was nothing left to use as a landmark on my return visit to  the top of Pearl Mountain.
From the corner of my eye, I saw, a  Palm tree evolve, with lots of  brown and white striped heart shaped rocks piled up at its base.

Respectfully, I approached the Palm tree, placed the palms of my hand's on the top most rocks
and whispered, "When I return,  please remember me". Again the shimmering  ribbons, with the towering white beam of light circling them and pressing ever inwards, surrounded me, spread out and over the rocks and turned each  into a gleaming heart shaped lantern. In the centre of each, was a  flame; I was sure the Wise Light had  entered, a fragment of itself  into each rock,-heart and  now rested there aglow, a silver wing-like flame, inside the heart of each one.
As I turned to go, I heard a sigh,  it said, "Hurry back". I called out, "I will, I will, and next time, I'll bring a friend with me".


Tushie                                                    (To be continued)

IN MY DREAM



'Breath Of Fire'  by  Trish

Like  tops of two teacups

Our mouths press in a perfect circle,

and your warm, sweet breath flows deep into me.

In my heart, I know, my breath does not flow.

Mine is a great yawning yowl,

that's barred, lest the mighty roar of sound

rip all to pieces.

Like a whirlwind, it would destroy all before it,

up, up into a whirling vortex of destruction and devastation,

before the tirade, if ever, was sated.

BEYOND THE EDGE,



'Sleep'  by  Trish

 In my dream world, trees dance, rocks move

Shadows shaft sillouettes of shapes

While  the warm earth holds close the last rays of day.

then slips into the night

 

 In my, stillness at dusk,
A pale moon spills its light over

The shadow of things.

A quiet breath, a deep sigh

And the silent press of time,

Closes my dream world eyes.

Further, further down I go 

Stop! at the waters edge

Come now, delight with me

In the world of my daring dreams

Filled with golden streams that, drift and shimmer
Beyond the waters edge, and carry me in my bed.


ODDS AND ENDS
I note, she wears a gardenia at her waist
A gold chain on her wrist
And the hot, cold rage on my tongue,
Lets me fall into nowhere.

"Dear daughter, dance for me! sing for me!

Do it for me! all for me!" she says.

She's tangled in my hair,

Clutching at me with a thousand hands

Catching me to her with a thousand arms and needs.

Now I begin, to talk to myself, hug myself,
Perform, my existance.
Now,  I've become a shadow,
One's hand could pass through sharp and clean
 A slant of light, that slides, across, an empty,
 silver-gray, murky screen.