About aperture

Living on the island state of Tasmania, Australia. Narrating life through poetry and photography.

Syntax Error

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All I have are words now
                       words are all I need
                                   typed, texted, scribbled out
                                   dribbled out of me.
         Pleading words, asking, begging 
                           verbal therapy
         Waiting on reply, words
                                           Words said absently
         Words poured out in fire
                       through the scribes of centuries
         Both comfort and question me
                       yet remains to be seen..

  Do I have the words 
        or do they possess me?

Wrestling for glory

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to wrestle…
Strive
Battle
Combat
Struggle
Contend
Grapple

The kind of gentle fellow who lends us all an ear
Who shares the clothes off his back and casts out all our fears

With but a word and warning, that nought can harm us here
When the power of the all mighty, is ours but to revere

As such, a simple gesture, to pluck off his collar in haste
Trading robes of white for white, a blackbelt round his waist

Just as Jacob endured long night, these duelling fellows and dames
Eternal glory for the fight, lest we forget His name

For the young Reverend..

Grappler image

Grapplers for Christ

Forza

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I remember the feeling so clearly
Something severe was amiss
Walking through doors they smelled fear
Walking through streets was bliss

The occupation was gradual, silent
It crept in through a crack in the wall
The war was bloody and violent
The defences shattered to fall

The trenches were flooded with spies
Who traded their various wares
And carried off secrets, supplies
No innocent person was spared

Then the cavalry came riding free
Rising up with the glorious sun
Led by heavenly beings in three
They fought for the freedom of one

soldier image

Queen of Hearts

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A painted portrait
of tender maid
wrapped in lace
and golden chain

A single rose
in her hand
her wit and eye
the reprimand

The letter B
Emblazoned bare
the second wife
Young and fair

Her mystery
and brave of face
The Queen of Hearts
Relented chaste

Her womb did bare
so many sorrows
Her life discarded
New wife tomorrow

New faith was founded
to cover shame
A line of grace
Flows from her name


Portrait picture

The Perfect Circle

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Staring at the new day sun
veiled fog above the rise
Translucent hiding perfect sphere
Shuffling mist smears the sky

Exotics and their native mates
Sit alongside still and wide
Spreading out their sparse leaves
A kaleidoscope of fire

Wet and deep the colours blush
the damp lit canvas glows
Woollen warm-blooded bodies
Rise and graze their nose

Pure Devotion

Posted on April 22, 2015 by aperture

There are some who hold the notion

that they owe their very lives

to another one’s devotion

their compassion helps them thrive

So an endless lifelong debt

is paid out every day

in prayers and thoughts and dreams

and acts of kindness to repay

Finger touch image

Orleanna

Posted on April 21, 2015 by aperture

Plain and simple

Anyone can see

For women like me

We whistle while Rome burns

a woman who carries on

the backbone of history

People like Mama

to resist occupation

understand the language

of your enemy

– The Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver, p.435

‘The Exodus’ by Orleanna Price

Psyched

Posted on April 20, 2015 by aperture

Johari tells me not to worry
Out the bottom window view
Must be Pavlov who knew why
When sad I like my food
Freud agrees he can call
His sister's name instead
Maslow says I'm all sold out
If merely housed and fed
Thorndike's clear your looking good
Is why you're a kind soul
Should have listened to Myers and Briggs
Why you hog the remote control.


Horn rimmed glasses image