flutterings

Bragging time!!!! Two years in the making!

2014-09-16T18:55:00.001+10:00

The end is upon us

2013-08-21T01:03:00.001+10:00

And now my friends

Because you've so become

The end is upon us.

Thank you for your comments

Your likes, your smiles,

And your unstinting support,

We have travelled far together

But the end we have reached.

Three hundred and sixty five poems

Over a little more than a year and half

What a trip this was!

What a diary this turned out to be!

The best, the worst and the rest

What freedom this has brought me!

This is the final poem

On Passing Flutterings,

All happiness is tinged with sadness

And so am I,

Good bye and au revoir!

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

J'ai mis ma culotte à l'envers

2013-08-21T00:28:00.001+10:00

Comme le bon roi Dagobert

J'ai mis ma culotte à l'envers

Toute la journée je me suis plainte

D'être boudinée par derrière

D'avoir pris du poids

Et manque de chance pour moi

Je n'avais pas de Saint Éloi.

Comme le bon roi Dagobert

J'ai mis ma culotte à l'envers

Toute la journée je me suis plainte

De l'idiotie des pantalons sans poches

Ma caboche a mis plus de cinq heures

Pour résoudre cette énigme car moi

Je n'avais pas de saint Éloi.

Comme le bon roi Dagobert

J'ai mis ma culotte à l'envers

Mais où était donc Saint Éloi?

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Spring is coming

2013-08-20T00:02:00.001+10:00

The sky's blue is deeper,

The sun is shinier, days are longer.

Spring is coming

The grass lost its grey shade

To display an emerald tinge, in contrast

To the offering of blooming wattles.

Spring is coming

The river fed by the winter rains

Is running freely and clear.

Spring is coming

Magpies are warbling,

Chasing each other, fighting

For that prime positioned nest.

Spring is coming

The first plum tree is blossoming

Sure sign that spring is coming

Despite the snow forecast

For a cold tomorrow.

Nature is trumpeting its arrival

High and clear this year,

Spring is coming,

Are we ready for it?

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Heart talk

2013-08-18T23:55:00.001+10:00

Like me this Gumtree is ancient

And has seen a few many springs,

Its heart is there on display

For every one to see.

It is not perfect,

Neither is love,

Only youth strives

To attain this ideal.

It has had a few knocks

Here and there,

So has mine

And so has yours, I bet.

From its core

Sprouts a new regrowth

For one cannot destroy love.

As long as the tree will stand

Love will endure.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Winter wind

2013-08-17T23:58:00.001+10:00

So many masks you may take

You showed yourself under many disguises

All dramatic and disturbing

But caressing, sensual and warm

You were not today.

Buffeting wind shaking

The tall trees under an apathetic moon,

Forceful wind bending shrubs and reeds along the river,

Roaring wind drowning the words of my voice,

Pushy wind forcing me in one direction,

Gusty wind slapping me around the ears,

Rattling wind of windows and doors,

Mercurial wind fooling with the birds in flight,

Playful wind eloping with my scarf.

Wind, how tiring you are

When desire takes you

To rant about everything in your way!

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Keep it simple

2013-08-16T22:59:00.001+10:00

Keep it simple

Is my motto

When writing poetry.

Keep it simple

So its immediacy

Flows like a gurgling creek

Into a raging torrent

On its way to the ocean.

Keep it simple

So its vibrancy

Resonates like the rustling

Of the wind in the Gumtrees

Or the high shredding cry

Of the tempest on a winter night.

Keep it simple

So like the soft light of dawn

Colours the day to come.

Keep it simple

So its appeal is universal

And sways every one.

Keep it simple

I say.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

The Moirai

2013-08-16T01:14:00.001+10:00

The dream of the old man draped in

The remains of a black coat in tatters

With the scythe in one hand

And the hourglass in the other

With the sand disappearing quickly

Bringing him to knock forcibly on one's door

Is one of the more common accepted

Disguise of the Angel of Death,

Also known as the grim reaper,

But for one reason or another

Black was not the colour of death

Nor was the male figure the one

To make us a visit on that day,

It was Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos

With their loud coloured dresses

Who came in the white limousine

To take my mother away

Refusing laughingly

I come too on that trip.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Uniformity

2013-08-14T16:38:00.000+10:00

Talk about the bleakness
Of a Saharan dune
In full summer,
Of the snow blanketed tundra
In full Siberian winter,
Of the depthless tropical atoll
In the endless Pacific summer,
Of the enveloping cocooning greyness
Crossing the English Channel in winter,
Human mind cannot cope with perfection
Chaos is for us as necessary as breathing.
Notwithstanding the pain that it brings
We need the seed of disorder
To recall the absolute beauty
Of our limited existence here
Without it life is not worth it
For are we not its children?

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Dream catcher

2013-08-14T00:35:00.001+10:00

Driven by fear of nightmares

A dream catcher was offered,

To protect my slumbers

Letting only the good dreams through

And catching the bad ones,

Obediently I hung it up.

Above my bed

It ever slowly sways extending

Its feathery knotty trap

In the hidden current of darkness

Keeping a solitary stern watch

On my nightly repose

Guiding it to an harmonious rest.

Despite the peace it brings

I regret the shadows of my dreams

For even a sunny sky

Becomes quickly a drudging torment

Without any hint of cloud

Bringing respite by contrast.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Black swans

2013-08-08T22:49:00.001+10:00

Walking leisurely by the river

Astonished by hearing

For the first time

The soft crooning "kverq" call

Of the black swan swimming

Loftily around the reedy islets

In search of its everlasting soul mate

Which was playfully avoiding it,

Undulating languorously

Its long and curved neck

Slowly with an inner elegance

This way and that.

All was peaceful

In perfect balance

Poised in the present moment

No worries about its meaning,

No future to consider bleak or not

Life does not need

To be made complicated

Enjoy it!

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Acrostic

2013-08-08T00:04:00.001+10:00

Away in the legendary

Country of my fore fathers

Randomly walked the mean

Ogres who desultory would

Sat on the roof of a house

To take tea and have a smoke

In order to carefully think about

Callously writing an acrostic.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Wattle Blossoms

2013-08-06T22:33:00.001+10:00

Walking leisurely by the river

Suddenly it hit my consciousness

That I was smelling

The suave sweet and pervasive scent

Of wattles in bloom

In the late wintery afternoon.

So many yesteryears souvenirs

It brought back to my memory.

The wintry parties decorated

With wattles blossoms

To be found in the garden,

The wind sheltered sunny harbour made

From a row of perfumed golden wattles

At the top of the mountain lookout.

Strangely enough it symbolises

The coming of spring to many

But for me it celebrates mid winter

Pleasures of good food and friends

When the days are still brisk

And the nights long.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Who am I?

2013-08-05T22:56:00.001+10:00

Who am I?

I am the daughter

I am the mother

I am the wife

I am the healer

I am the teacher

Who am I?

I am the indecisive

I am the paranoid

I am the insecure

I am the weak

I am the dreamer

Who am I?

I am the sick

I am the victim

I am the scholar

I am the old

I am the migrant

Who am I?

I am the battered child

I am the anguished teenager

I am the loser adult

I am the wise ancient

Who am I?

I am the joy

I am the happiness

I am the tears

I am the screams

Who am I?

Simply put it,

I am the sum of it.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Specks of dust

2013-08-05T00:53:00.001+10:00

Consider a grain of sand

And you have eternities

In the palm of your hand.

Consider wind

And you have the ever

Expanding interstellar void

Whirl by your ears.

Consider our lives

And we have an ephemeral spark

Which is truly our realm

For we are nothing more

In the cosmos scheme

Than specks of dust.

Consider the reasons

We are putting ourselves

In the centre of the universe

For we certainly make a lot of ruckus

For such aleatory beings.

Is it not simply

To disprove the unimportance

Of our feverish transience?

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

The undesirable guest

2013-08-03T22:57:00.001+10:00

One day it will come

As an undesirable guest

Mostly uninvited by many

Voluntary chosen by some

On a lost quest

Unwelcome it may be

But inevitable it is

Denying it won't change the fact

The ultimate foe faces us

Inexorably extending its invitation

Slowly filling the empty door frame

With its immobile opacity

Through which nothing

Can be perceived

From this side

Few will resist

To its incessant call

Others will drag their last breaths

But unmovable it will stay put

Renewing relentlessly its supplication

Presenting it as an open solicitation

To come and follow with trust.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Dissension

2013-08-02T22:23:00.001+10:00

Look a break in the weather,
Let's go for a walk,
While it's sunny!
Hands get the coat and scarf
The head make its voice heard
Better get the new boots,then.
It must be muddy, it rained all day.
The feet stop, stomp their ground
New boots? The hands fetch them
Look here, nice and country like.
Why can't we have the suede ones?
They're very elegant and comfy.
No, says the head it's all wet outside.
Try these instead.
The feet squeeze in the boots
Too tight, with those winter socks.
Yes, its compeer echoes, too tight,
I'm sure I'll get bleeding blisters.
Sorry, that's the only choice you'll have.
Either you walk with those or you don't.
In that case we won't go.
Unfortunately for you, you don't have a case
In decision making. So are you ready?
The hands take the keys,
The feet encased in the new boots
Follow with reluctance.
It's going to hurt says one
I can feel it, my heel is chaffing against the boot.
My pinky toe is squeezed, replies the other.
Be quiet, the head is heard saying.
Silent dissension reigns.
Oppression rules despite all.
The feet are not happy to go home
Limping and bleeding, they were right,
The new boots are too tight
But who want to listen
To one's secondary appendages.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Back to uni

2013-08-02T01:14:00.001+10:00

Forcibly the University

Calls to its transient and elusive students,

To answer its ever obdurate appeal.

They flock back to its labyrinthian halls,

Filled with experiences newly acquired,

During the winter break.

Like manifold migrating birds,

Their resilience somewhat alienated

By this harsh competitive environment

In this cold clime

Without friends and family,

They gather around.

It will take them until spring

To disperse again and travel

Towards places where love

Is warm and natural

To flower and grow over summer .

New waves will replace them,

Hitting or deserting our shores in turn

To the rhythm of graduations' round.

Call to arms!

2013-07-31T23:47:00.001+10:00

This is a call to arms, poets!

We live interesting times

We are on the cusp

Of seeing everywhere traditional society

Collapse from the oblivion of individual rights

For the megaton devouring ones of

International global corporate powers.

We need poets to became militants

Against the obedient indifference

Of the oppressed people

Too busy to survive

In the starving disasters zones,

Working slaves of the emerging economies

And the divisive drive of religions

In the new and old worlds.

Poets are still free

To defend justice for humanity

For our foe has made an error

Causing us to become

Masters of the tech world

Reaching every corner

Of the known universe!

So take up your words poets

Polish your lines

See you on the web's front line !

The path

2013-07-30T23:04:00.001+10:00

Behind the sunny meadow
The green walled path
Leads you away.
You're keen to follow it
Though you can't see
Where it'll end.
Beware you might get lost
For there is no map
But you have a guide.
In front of you she walks temptingly
Fleetingly appearing and disappearing
Along the twisted lane
Tantalisingly near and far
Continuously almost in and out of touch.
Yours to possess
Hers to be free
You may tag her
But you may not own her.
She goes by the name of freedom
Freedom to love
Freedom to be.
Essential yet immaterial
On this road that life is
The choice is yours.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Pantoum

2013-07-29T22:06:00.001+10:00

I know it, I feel it

The time has come to move on

The gong of time is reverberating

In the marrow of my bones.

The time has come to move on

The respite was a short one

In the marrow of my bones

It is becoming harder to go on.

The respite was a short one

It is a sure sign to leave

It is becoming harder to go on

We have tried, we have failed.

It is a sure sign to leave

There's no shame, there's no guilt

We have tried, we have failed

The thirty years loop is complete.

There's no shame, there's no guilt

Decisions have to be taken

The thirty years loop is complete

We are free to make them.

Decisions have to be taken

In that sense we are lucky

We are free to make them

Inspired by our friends.

In that sense we are lucky

Who have just done this

Inspired by our friends

In more difficult times.

Who have just done this

The gong of time is reverberating

Inspired by our friends

I know it, I feel it.

Two rhymes practice

2013-07-29T01:19:00.000+10:00

To rhyme or not
There lies the difficulty
Full dot.
When one thinks about it really
It does not matter a jot.
This last point is highly
Debatable and the argument is fraught
As the poet continues wily
To align words as a plot
Defying common sense airily
Trying indefinitely to slot
This word or that one warily.
Does it make a poem? I think not
Something is missing obviously
One would have to be an idiot
To think so certainly.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Greed

2013-07-27T18:34:00.001+10:00

Greed is insane

Greed is destructive

Greed is evil

Greed is senseless

In thy name countries are ripped off

In thy name people are destroyed

In thy name nature is pulverised and crunched

In thy name crime is committed

In thy name today gives way to a false tomorrow

In thy name religion allows every wrong

For only the true believers will be saved

In the Armageddon that they are keen to bring on.

The companion

2013-07-26T23:23:00.001+10:00

Floating island of my dreams

Carried away by fathomless currents

Of iridescent illusions and

Immanence temptations

Far from the harshness of life's pettiness

Ultimate refuge large enough to receive

The homage of love

The games of children and be

Comfort to the dogs

To hold precarious stacks of books

Papers and pens

And other paraphernalia

Amongst which thrones

The odd breakfast tray

And mountains of clothes to fold

Such is my domain

Changing its colour of mood

As necessity requires

So small and definite

The humble but honoured

Companion of my sleepless nights

My bed!

Absent muse

2013-07-25T22:16:00.001+10:00

Can't say two things to save my skin

Tonight the white page blanks stare me

My muse has gone awalking

Without giving me leave of absence

Am I sorry? It may be

But let's dance and have fun

Not to forget being happy

Giving myself license to be free

To the rigours of grammar

I can't stand and of punctuation

I munificently ignore

That will teach her a lesson

Never ever to leave me

Alone and unsupervised

In that deep language labyrinth

With its multifarious hidden traps

Opening chasms under the trodden steps

Of the ignorant poet that I am

Curse you muse, I miss you!