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Connoisseur of Kisses (A Birthday Poem)
The lady is waiting for truth to be found
As all her sentiments stumble around
Like a little tin soldier beats his little tin drum, Her heart palpitates to the heat from his sun
Sometimes she lights her birthday cake
And she waits…and she waits, for pity’s sake
Sometimes she throws homemade bread in the lake
The swans turn their grace in disgust with distaste
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Australia’s Most Beautiful Woman
MAGICAL: Moi-Yo Miller
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POETRY | Marigold Meadows
Let the summer flow
through marigold meadows
And let the flowers glow
Let their petals
Illuminate like
starry windows
Like honeyed halos
Over marigold meadows
Where the lovers go
Where they tread ever so slow
Through the parquetry nettles
Of dandelion gold
They lay their heads on the beds
of the heather that highlights
the show and the marigolds
grow; and there they tender
their loves regrowth as the
zephyr blows; and there they
sparkle as they sow their hearts to
the ether of their shimmering afterglow
In marigold meadows
Where the maggots fester
far below
BEE Stings | Spring in Sydney
It is almost spring
The bees sting incessantly
They zap apart the wounded heart
And prick like friendships torn apart
Their victims are helpless
Their victims are hopeless
They don’t mean anything
They are rather harmless
and they apologise for their inconsistence
But if the blossoms did not flourish
And the garden did not bloom
There’d be no life here to garnish
There’d be no life here to groom
And if the bees did not swarm and
the bees did not sting
There’d be feelings of defiance
In every living thing
Sometimes the bees sting the life right out of me
And for that, I am sorry
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POETRY | Ladybird Curse
The ladybirds rehearse in the garden of the menagerie
Reciting their verse; the precursor for matrimony
Little lady ladybirds emerging in swarms
From pupae and larvae to face their new dawn
The ladybirds converse, excited yet scared
Winking with pleasure from the tales they have heard
Anticipating leisure from fables since shared
The ladybirds weather the storm quite prepared
Colourful creatures; so gentle in flight
The ladybirds nest on lustrous foliage this night
Yet be warned that patience eventually wears thin
When ladybirds are cannibals and you are their sin!
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Snips and Snails
Where lies the beauty this solemnest night
That sparkles like marbles by graceful light
That whispers sweet nothings with deepest insight
Oh, when will the beauty of passion delight?
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Heaven | Open for Inspection
The pearly gates are whispering
“Come in, come in”, they’re beckoning
“Everyone welcome without exception,
Heaven is now open for inspection”
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The War of Jenolan Gorge
Frozen in time like a stalactite
Dripping icicles of frosty white
Left to feed off stagnant water
In this cave of Chinese torture
It is so cold down here in this blood-lit den
And the silence screams like a thousand men
Echoes bouncing around my head
In this solitude with which I’m fed
I am so tired in here though I dare not sleep
My stalactite heart in my soulless keep
Dreading the emptiness which I deplore
Continuing to seep on the limestone floor
And so I weep amidst the slaughter
The hanging knife, the devil’s daughter
And so I hang my head in sin
And never shall I let you in
Flirting Girl of the Antipodes
 |
Ever so subtly with each of her nuances
 She fluttered her eyelids twice
Debating the validity of her chances Flirtatiously smiling at those she fancies |
The Waltz of the Whore
He is up in his pulpit again
Preachin’ like a preacher man
Screeching lurid obscenities
Oh why can’t he just let me be?
Viola Bow, Poetess
The Lady Enticing the Devil
The lady peers down upon the Devil’s Coach House
Peeking through the curtain
She watches the troubadours ride blithely in
Chuckling to herself like a chanteuse
She sees centurions in her sin
Dressed in her finest ebony lace and silk
Frightened by your smile
Quickly pulling the drapery over
She chooses to hide a while
The stallions, so glorious!
So pleased to be back home
They buck and bray victorious
The glory of the throne!
She watches as you enter
He is not nobler than she!
She catches yet another glimpse
The crusaders of history
Will she march like Joan of Arc?
Pirouette in the marble arch
Ever venture to her darling’s house
Those lovely servants that you denounce
And see her prince come riding in
Home
At last – she groans, begin!
The ladies in waiting knock on her door
She bequeaths her soul forever more
Remember
She chooses her own delight
Each and every single (k)night
Trophy
I wore you, Like a trophy
Shame, I did not
Wear myself that way
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Poetess Viola Bow | Ankh
Its too late ~
The statues have been blessed
The effigies entombed inside
Are cradled bare to rest
And from the static drone
Of Horus diatribe
A perfect gift emerges
As Goddess from the sky
Beside Thy Death Bed Mourning
By thy death bed
We, as solemn caretakers, mourn
Silent as the breeze
That gently squeezes
Life’s blood into insolvency
With the moaning drone of expectancy
We are brought to our knees
As we recite our prayers
For all the love we feel for thee
For all the times we have forsaken
Our spirituality; cast out the need
Of our deepest yearnings and cluttered
Our souls, unholy and empty with the
Whisky, the wine, the fruitless desires
And countless hours of wasted disharmony
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