There they sat, still in their clatter

silence in their defiance, they mock me:

"You are not our master, we are waiting for him to come home."

I whip them into motion with my bare hands

I poured hot insults onto their cool, smug surfaces

With frustration, I flung them

into the fiery furnace - burn, baby, burn

Who is your master now?

I dug deep into their core, till they throw up onto the counter

And I, exhausted, served them up on the

etched pretty platter.

I smiled.

Love,

Petal P. Rose

Today.

Today I spent the afternoon sitting in my backyard, amongst the lemon tree, grass, leaves, grape vines, lavender bushes and not to mention the ants and bugs.

I watched the butterflies flitting and flirting with each other against the blue crowded sky. White on white on white, marred only by the shine of the brilliant Mr Sun. The ants worked extra hard climbing over the mounts of my wrinkled mat, over my skin and toes, scurrying hurriedly with some place to go, with no place to be but here. I listened to the gossip of the neighbours, the extra unannounced guest - smirking as they laugh, sharing their jokes but yet not quite sharing. The wind, it blows to offer abit of respite against harsh Mr Sun, sending the flitting, flirting butterflies off their determined course into an unknown one. It blows as though embarrassed to disturb the intrusion of the scene yet it carresses my back like a well known lover. Made bold by the sigh of contentment from me, the flowers and older leaves, they surrender to fall willingly onto earth, some onto my face as though blessing me with their approval of the sun and the carresses of the wind.

And I think - this is life. This is what makes me happy.

I'm back - ish....

It's been a couple of months since I last wrote, I know. It's been a crazy time till now - I can't wait to see what 2010 will bring. I've decided that for Y2010, that I leave on time, everyday from work and get back on track with my food and fitness. It's always easier said than done.


I don't know why it was that years ago, I could fit it all in and be oh so, disciplined. Okay, so perhaps I had more time on my hand, lesser worries and responsibilities but I refuse to believe that it is the reason. I'm not giving myself room for excuses, I think - which is good....?


I've put some personal projects on hold, aside from the lack of discipline for a fitness routine and diet. There are so many things to focus on - I like to put in 110% effort in all the things that I take up but more and more, I feel like 110% multiplied by X number of "projects" taken on, leaves me with a deficit of 800%. Not good at all, folks, I agree....


If only things run like clockwork and are bang on - but it's too idealistic to even dream of it. Oh well, I'll leave some of these things for the inevitable January 2010...in the meantime, I'm on a well-deserved break down under and may decide to write again before the year is out...or not.

Love,
Petal P. Rose

Dark

I trail my fingers
softly softly by the seams
I close my eyes - I've not seen
yet I believe

Dark and large
Very comfortable, said he....

Is it as dark as liquorice
and warm like chocolate?
Will it taste pleasant in my mouth?

Petal

Lullaby

I want to sleep beside you
tucked into bed by midnight
every night
for as long as forever

steal into my window
blend into the humidity of the dark
a wisp of love
tucked behind my ear

rise and fall in rhythm
like the patterned sheets
harmonising
a duet

I want to sleep beside you
awakened by dawn
for as long as we can
forever's not too long

Love,
Petal P. Rose

The phone

The phone sits muted
by the bedside table
harbinger of news
don't like it when it rings
leave! it's the weekend - i dive under my pillows

i'd rather read the papers
the magazines, the internet
at my own pace
my eyes carress the rounded curves
i put it away to be mulled over

later
later

Petal P. Rose

In your head...

"I am not of this world." "We are not in the same world"

I thrashed my head - side to side


adamant
"I don't believe it! Don't!"
Not for one bit


Hah - not possible, just in your head



Not of this world, not of the universe?




the pieces that don't fit



in your head - - somewhere..






nowhere


but your head.

Petal P. Rose