The roof crier

In his newly acquired silver coat

Soaking up the heat

Of a luminous spring day

Impervious to the blaring rays

Sir Raven rests on the tiled roof 

Before delivering a high and loud banter

A few  rodomontades are heard 

To attract our attention

Followed by a keen message 

That everyone hears

But none understands

Disgusted by our apathetic behaviour

To this rousing speech

Sir Raven flies away with a last comment 

Flapping his wings in a disparaging way

To the next set of neighbourly roofs

To repeat the process. 

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Storm

The rain cries with me 

Hot tears rollIng on the roof

Falling onto my cheeks

The heavy sky is closed 

A black and purple buffer 

Of indifference pulsing

With my state of mind

Solitude, loneliness,

Safety reigns there

No one to hurt me 

Hopelessness, certainty

The end will come surely

Another bolt screams

Its immanent death 

The blustery wind 

Blowing in my empty skull.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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Two years in the making... Feeling happy!

Flame

Still and silent night lighted by

True candle flame

Grey projected shadow on the ceiling

Peacefulness, loneliness 

Emptiness, disconnection

Impermanence dimension

Thought travel through eons

Time and space disappear

So do I, projected consciousness

Against which wall by which light

Do I burn as true as the candle?

Do I waver along unseen currents?

Am I the candle reflection?

Have I found my twin soulmate?

Flame I can so simply blow out 

Who will blow me out?

L. C. Bailliet

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The hunt

Oblivious of the world around

The long legged heron,

Strutting slowly the river bed

So intent on catching any prey

Within reach of its sharp beak,

Has not seen the quiet intensity

Of the immobile master hunter

That is the cat over fed

It does not need to hunt

It can wait at pleasure,

On the creek bank

Sunning itself in the warmth

Of a late winter ray,

The ideal prey venturing

Inadvertently in its domain

The passerby that I am

Do not seem to disturb 

The impeding drama

Of the dog making its mind 

To go after the bird or the cat. 

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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