The White House

No longer a house

The White House is

But a revolving door

In they run

Out they fly

No wonder it leaks

With such a draft!

Lucette C. Bailliet

All rights reserved

I've got the itch

I got the itch

It drives me crazy

It's a bitch

I can't focus

I need to write

It's an obsession

I can't sleep 

I got the itch

It drives me crazy

It's a bitch

Words chase each other

Meaningless in a chain

In my restless brain 

A real frenzy

I got the itch

It drives me crazy

It's a bitch

Anything and everything

Starts to fester

If I pause for an instant

I got the itch

It drives me crazy

It's a bitch

Please I beg you

Give me a full stop

Mercy it will be.

Lucette C. Bailliet

All rights reserved

Winter 2017

Winter

'Tis my favourite season

To walk  in the forest

Mind free of worrying from

Snakes, falling branches

From shedding gumtrees,

Hot winds feeding wild fires.

'Tis my favourite season

To cozily gather by the fireside

Reading or writing 

Dog in my lap snoring recklessly 

Dreaming of swimming in the dam

Or chasing the ever elusive roo.

'Tis my favourite season

To stand around a roaring bonfire

Sparkling red embers high

Into the night sky

A warm toddy in hand 

Keeping spirits high.

'Tis my favourite season

To stand by the chimney 

Toasting and roasting

Sweet marshmallows 

After a hot filling dinner.

'Tis my favourite season

For so many reasons

Bringing simple pleasures.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights reserved

Winter can be so cruel

The garden this year

Is suffering under Winter 

It has received such a pounding

Brought by the heavy frosts

This season keeps delivering.

The garden will be pared down

After this severe spell

Gone are bougainvilleas,

Passion fruit, lime tree, aloe Vera 

Orchids and chrysanthemums too.

Winter can be so cruel!

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights reserved

Dance , laugh and be merry

How revolting and putrid 

The stink of death is

Cloying to the point of sickness.

How terrifying is death 

Searching for her next prey

With her glowing black diamond eyes, 

Reflecting all light to its source.

It is as numbing as

The sound of crunching bones 

Accompanying the glutinous sucking of marrow

Followingf on her steps like buzzing blow flies

But as long as the words :" it's time, come with me"

Do not imprint on your mind

Dance, laugh and be merry!

Lucette C. Bailliet

All rights reserved

But who's Tiffany?

But who's Tiffany?

Those were the words I woke up to

Reverberating in my dreamy head,

Of the dream itself 

I had no clues.

But who's Tiffany? All day long

This refrain came coming back

Racking my mind pitilessly 

But who's Tiffany?

To the point that in the evening

It had become a droning mantra

Overpowering everything else

Twas only in my  opened my diary 

I saw the words:  Monthly meeting 

Prompt: But who's Tiffany? 

That I had my epiphany!

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights reserved 

We want you back

United States of America 

Lafayette didn't fight in vain

For freedom to be abused

It wasn't a mistake to send you

The Statue of Liberty 

To welcome the world refugees 

Something most rotten 

Is eating at your democracy 

We are all watching appalled 

The world is waiting

For you to stop this nonsense 

Before losing all credibility 

Impeach that treacherous being

He and his entourage have to go

The election ought to be declared

Void and null

Mistakes are made

Correction is needed

You survived Watergate

You'll survive Russia gate

We want you back at the table of nations.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights reserved 

Night game

The moon rises in the sky

The golden disk reigns above

The firmament bows to her

The clouds offer her a short rest

The moon is on the hunt

Looking for an aid

To play the game

The cat wakes up

The night is hers to devour

Shadow is her mantle  

Night her friend

She slinks from tree to tree

Pouncing on any prey 

Blinded by the moon

To be offered to the golden orb.

Lucette C. Bailliet

All rights reserved

In the forest

In the forest

After so many days bushwalking 

The forest magic opens to me

My mind fills its emptiness 

By finding creatures where none exist.

I can see slinking down the trunk

Of an iron bark a critter

When I approach it is only 

A twisting branch.

On the trunk of this tree

A bark lady  waves her arm

Seemingly calling to me. 

The slow growing moth left

Behind an illegible message

Imprinted clearly in the trunk

The question arises : Who can decipher it? 

Not me for sure

For I am a neophyte, 

I still have so much to learn.

Further on a fungus 

Points a clearly defined signal

In the form of an arrow

Who is it for? 

Why would it grow in such a shape

So high on a grey box?

The rain left its own mark

The water trail becomes

The ghost of a man

Spread of on the ground.

A spot of raw sap morphs 

Into an exploding volcano

Of bright colours detonating 

On the greyness of the trunk.

One sees and feels so much 

In the forest not yet tamed by man.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights reserved 

The making of the crone

Looking at her reflection in the mirror 

She notes without complaisance 

The lines getting deeper

More numerous 

Each passing day more appear

It really is a continuing 

Work in progress 

You'd think her looks 

Would be clearly defined 

This isn't the case

She becomes fuzzier

Heavier in features 

The healthy glow

She was endowed with

A few months ago has left

Leaving behind a dull skin

Her grey hair falls without grace

Limply around her face

Her lips keep peeling

Older and fragile

The mirror doesn't lie

It's only natural 

A question of time 

Before she turns into a crone.

Lucette C. Bailliet

All rights reserved 

Trump-ery

Such a showman 

The world he entertains 

By his tweets and rants

Everyone wonders

How crasser he'll go 

He beats all expectations 

He shows no shame, no honour

With him there is no fair play

He is such a grabber for attention

Sycophants he adores

While he plays us along

In his shadows circle

Sinister swinish men

Voraciously attacking democracy

In order to feed their greed for more, 

For more now is their motto

Insatiable in their quest

It devours them leaving behind

An overpowering stink 

Of fraudulent shells of humanity

When will it all stop ?

Lucette C.Bailliet

All rights reserved

Perfect Sir was in a rush

To get his daily fix of cafeine

Hopped in a hang-ho way in the car 

Switched on the motor

Got it raving for what's the point 

Of having  a V8 

Under the bonnet 

Reversed frankly into 

The tree standing there

Minding his own business

Good bye bumper and  tail lights

I promise you Sir

The tree didn't move

Not one inch

It stood wherever it  ever stood before

Coffee break didn't appeal anymore

After that adrenaline high

Felt tired and went back to bed

Mumbling he shouldn't have bothered

Hibernation was as good as anything!

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights reserved

Forest walk

No bird to distract me

Following Kangaroo tracks

Dry water creeks

Merge into a network

Of least resistance 

My path crosses 

Some giant gum trees

Fallen by  their own years 

Some lie still on the ground 

But still battle 

To sprout new branches

Fallen but not dead

The forest is the realm of illusion

A root ball morphs into a dead dragon

A twisted branch in a tree 

Morphs into a slinky animal

A gargoyle hides in a stump

An hollow trunk becomes a chapel

All creations of my mind  

Who needs the middle-ages

When a walk in the forest suffices ?

Lucette C. Bailliet

All rights reserved