Built in obsolescence

Yes, it was only street art!

I gather transience

Is an intrinsic part of the medium

Contrary to the song telling us

'When the poet disappears

His songs are still sung

In the streets long afterwards'*

Art in our modern world

Suffers from obsolescence built in.

Turning into a small alley in Fitzroy

To see my favorite street art

I found it had been painted over

To give way to another one

But really, wasn't there another wall

That would have welcomed your work?

It's ironic to know I'm one of the few 

To possess a trace of an original painting

Destroyed forever in a mad rush

To cater for the latest trend.

* L'âme des poètes, Charles Trenet

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

And then

Homage to Lorca/ And then

Once the labyrinth of time disappears

Only deserts remain to be seen

The heart founts of desire have vanished

As well as the kisses of dawn

Only dust remain to be sieved

So many illusions dissolved in the air

Barely fragrant enough to trace

So many dreams never embodied

Fill the evanescent ether

Above the undulating deserts

We've been here

And gone nowhere.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Ode to my notebook

My square notebook

Pillow of my drafts

Repository of my dreams

Holder of my secrets

I have to thank thee

For your taking note

Of any ripple on my mind

Any flutterings of my heart

Of the most trifling transient thought

I may happen to articulate

Yes thank you, think not I ignore you

Despite the fact that you never 

See the end product recorded

For eternity on the iPad or PC

Whatever I may write, I trust 

It stays between you and me

Your smooth pages hold in place

By that large spiral along your spine

You, my faithful supportive companion

I couldn't do without you.

  Lucette C. Bailliet ©

 

On two rainy days

Tracing idly her name 

On the window pane 

By a lonely rainy day

Adding a love heart 

For everyone at home

Half a world away

Miserable in that ever melancholic rain

Missing home

Drops and tears rolling slowly down

Brought by dreaming 

Of her trip back home.

Another rainy day

In that grey country

Her thoughts heavy

Since the departure 

Of her grandchild

To that sunny country of hers

So far away

Looking at the steamed pane

Suddenly the child's name 

Appeared followed by a love heart

Drops and tears rolling slowly down

Her heart filled to the brim.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

 

Michael - chain poem and acrostic

More circumvolved than origami

I love how you let your academic

Celebrity run with a bash

However upon which criteria

Are you applying a backdate

Engineering such a harmful

Load of interline folds?

 

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Absence

An empty bench in the garden

Who was last sitting there? 

One loving couple

Oblivious of the world around,

Or a lone lover reading a letter, 

Alternatively hoping or despairing

At each crunching step approaching?

The absence of presence 

Does not signify lack of meaning.

A prolonged rest in music 

Is neither pure absence nor silence

But the focus of reality.

Absence becomes suggestion,

The unsaid screams in the silence

Then emerges poetry in motion

Joy, despair or serenity

Richer the poem becomes  

By discovering what is hidden

Therefore revealing the power of absence.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Heat wave haiku

Hot and sweltering

Five am, thirty three degrees

Slow start of day

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Heat Wave

Inexorably the temperature

Degree by degree

Creeps up and upwards

Towards the forty three predicted

Without any preamble

By Mid morning it's reached thirty

Within an hour it'll be thirty-six

It'll soon be too hot for the electronics

So reading and writing 

It's got to be today

Hot scorching wind is picking up

Fires will follow then

Keep inside, lots of fluids

Rest and sleep are recommended 

Cold showers will bring

Only short respite 

No need to be outside

Before the cooler side of midnight.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

   

Salty tears

Slowly the rain drops seep

Along the walls of the cavern

Drip, drop, dripping

Pooling at the bottom

Into a mossy basin

Offering an easy drink

For you parched traveller

There you find a peaceful rest

However long your stay.

Slowly the tears run down

The cheeks of the child

Her world has disintegrated 

You collect her tears on 

The tip of your finger

It is salty to taste

Your thirst won't be sated here

Cruelty has to stop

Children are not to suffer.

   Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Cursed

Cursed

There's more to me

Than you fathom to see

Let me tell mate

You've screwed up badly there

Sending me the pic of your dick

I've seen bigger mushrooms.

For if most of time

I'm half angel, half devil

Now I'll be all evil .

It was the wrong move

For witch I am coming 

From a long way my roots

Are buried in Gaulish mayhem

And here comes the curse 

Your dick will drivel and fall in a week!

To add to this your pathetic member

Will be famous from Alberta to Arabia

From Arizona to Australia!

How do you feel now, 

Let it be known 

I won't put up with sexual harassment

Under any guises. 

 

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

From my blog:

echoingsteps.blogspot.com.au

Breakfast in bed

Hidden behind my heavy eyelids

The lion is ready to devour

The prey it has to catch first.

Life is filled of silent desires 

Needs are second 

When Morpheus visits us.

The tiger in me is pacing up and down

In its solitary cage knowing

If it waits long enough it will be fed.

Breakfast is served today

By a naked man

Desires and needs are well fed.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Headache

I've got a splitting headache

My head needs to rest

But the drumbeat of my heart

Sends frenetic relentless  tremors 

Through the cavern of my brain.

I've got a splitting headache

My head needs to rest

But my feathery pillow

Has developed sharp thorns

And sudden hard lumps.

I've got a splitting headache

My head cannot rest.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

From my blog:

echoingsteps.blogspot.com.au

Duet

A bouquet is the sum

Of individual flowers

Each with its own hue

Its distinct perfume

You and I are such 

Amidst others.

A duet is the sum 

Of two instruments

Be they string or wind

Musically intertwining 

Themes and responses

Offering support

Or leading solos.

You and I are such

We still resonate and sing together

Whether in harmony or contrapuntal 

It does not matter.

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

Colour coded

If red is Monday

Therefore orange is Tuesday

Wednesday takes on dark blue

Thursday rules in yellow

Friday escapes with emerald green

Saturday dreams are azure

Sunday is obviously reserved to purple 

So say the elastic bands

Of my hubby's undies!

What kind of society

Allows this nonsense

To have colour coded garments?

What kind of insanity

Drives us to follow asinine diktats

In small details as such?

Profit, conformity and control 

Are the buzz words of today.

Anarchy and poetry are abhorred 

For no added value 

Can be derived from them.

If the pen is mightier than the sword

Overall gold reigns supreme .

Lucette C. Bailliet ©

La Belle Dame sans Merci

You bought your virgin wife

A jewel of child really offered to you

On her innocence you forced yourself

You corrupted her to become your pet

All above water and in all legality

You got yourself a slave

How powerful you were

Your status gained sudden impetus

Life was a dream come true

You gloated lyrically of eternal love

Driven by your insatiable lust

Happy to have moulded her 

To your darkest desires.

When reality bit you in the bum

Your love deity had become 

A twisted shrew, what to do?

She is what you asked her to be

No more no less a monster

Issued from your despicable mind

When you greedily sucked her soul 

Destroying all her inner being

To leave an empty shell 

To be filled with hate and contempt

So why be surprised?

You better work hard 

To get into repair mode

For trust is fragile!

Were I in her place

I would kill you to have destroyed it

For you don't deserve a second chance.

So says La Belle Dame sans merci!

 Lucette C. Bailliet ©