WIP labyrinth

The labyrinth is 

In a constant state

Of work in progress

Once you enter it

Shed  your worries

The world retreats 

In front of your steps

Take time to look around

The flat paddock

Welcome a stroll

The flat sky above 

Lets your mind 

Roam free

Take the time 

To breath, to stretch 

To blank your mind

When you're refreshed 

You may exit it

The mundane yoke

Will feel lighter

For that is the purpose 

Of the labyrinth.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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Mid-winter

When the days are short,

When it rains all day,

When old faithful  fails us,

When beastie won't deliver,

Has to be serviced

When technology can't cope,

Manual dishwashing takes the relay 

Return to candlelight dinners

Medieval look is somewhat romantic

No more entertainment online

No more musical interlude

Conversation is a must

Weather oriented of course

Around the next sunny day

Evening reading is in order

Catching up with books to be read

A plus I suppose

Discovery that we've been lied 

All that time in those period movies

One candle is not enough

To read at night

Five is the right number

On my bedside table.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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Aren't they a pair?

Aren't they a pair?

Four and five make nine

And the circle is complete.

If there was a doubt about it

The quest solved itself:

Flotus is as bad as Potus.

On her way to visit

Children internment camps 

She wore a coat stating

" I really don't care, Do u?"

Provocative to say the least,

Insensitive or plain stupid?

They really deserve each other

The 45s' make such a pair.

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Children cry

Children cry

For their parents

We are the land of the free

Shout Trump's people

Children cry

 Inside holding pens

Animals said Trump

Don't deserve the land of the free

Children cry

Cradling barres on the cages

We defend the land of the free

Repeat Trump's stormtroopers

The children cry 

To make sense of the world

All criminals says Trump

Kick them all out of the land of the free

Children cry 

Their loss of innocence.

Lucette C. Bailliet

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The heart of the labyrinth

Labyrinth heart

The labyrinth has now

An added fixture 

In its inner sanctum:

A double spiral 

Taking shape in its heart,

'Tis like a cherry on the cake.

It adds a "Je ne sais quoi"

To the labyrinth.

I'm not sure about

If it brings spirituality,

If there is any,

That is to say,

To the complete machine

But it feels complete now.

I couldn't stand in its centre,

An empty inner chamber,

Facing me.

It is now grounded.

The Greeks put in theirs,

Either a Minotaur 

Or a snakes filled pit,

Both options, in my opinion

Rather a bit over the top,

And then just as a question of interest

How do you keep a Minotaur ?

Have to feed it everyday, 

More to the point 

Where does one go to find one?

The snakes are no so much a problem

We have magnificent ones here

Brown, Red bellied black snakes! 

But really, 

For our modern world

Where people 

Want to resource themselves

Not to be destroyed in the process

A double spiral is sufficient

In the heart of the labyrinth.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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Waky, waky

Waky, waky Australia

Your freedom is disappearing

Under the guise of privatisation:

Schools, hospitals, nursing homes, ABC

Are to be sold and run privately

With you having no say 

Whatsoever in the matter.

We see what prior privatisations

Of Telstra, Commonwealth Bank, Qantas,

And the Energy purveyors

Have not brought

The fabled golden trickle down

Only delivering worse service and high prices.

Sitting on the fence

Playing the three wise monkeys

And not rocking the boat

Is agreeing with them.

Take a stance Australia

Sooner than later

For it will be too late too soon! 

It is time to wake up!

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Cattywampus

When ignorance is bliss

Cattywampus, I wonder

Or should I say 

I don't wonder about you.

Do you work as an insult?

You're such a cattywampus!

Do you work as a compliment

Oh, you're such a cattywampus!

Are you a term of endearment ?

Dear cattywampus!

Are you a term of condemnation ?

It is no wonder,

He is such a cattywampus!

Or maybe note of opprobrium or a curse?

Cattywampus on you!

A teasing one,

A laughing joke maybe

Ah such a cattywampus!

Well, I think I'll never know.

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Winter blues

I hate this time of year

When daylight is such a miser

And nighttime is murder

When bleached of sunlight,

The world's Greyness 

Closes on one's soul:

Absence, Illness, death

Are all there bringing despair

Sapping one's energy

Making each day 

More difficult to face.

Lucette C. Bailliet 

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Pity us!

The Queen's birthday is on us,

Townies are with us,

Reader pity us!

As soon as the rain relents

The purring screaming,

Tearing at the silent paddock,

Relentless, mindless, 

For hours the commotion 

Of their infernal machines is heard, felt even

Turning, accelerating, screeching to halt

Revving and here we go again

On the hellish manège.

Once the silence has reestablished Itself 

When one can hear one's thoughts again

Then starts the asinine shooting of the Roos

Which carcasses will be found

Hanging on the fences

For such are the townies pleasures

When in the bush they visit. 

The Queen's birthday is on us,

Townies are with us,

Reader pity us!

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Lonely sock club

Lonely socks lament

On the loss of their soul sock

The meetings are a sad affair

For there are few happy endings.

When one of a pair is absent

It is the end of a relationship

For never ever have they found

An adequate replacement.

Assembling week after week

By the clothes basket

Forever hoping that their beloved one

Has made it that side of the clothesline

Of course you get

The rough grey ones

Who don't care, laughing at them

For they are never bonded

As deeply as the vividly coloured ones

And one grey is as worth as another grey one.

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Opaline skies

I love to watch in winter

The opalescent skies at dusk.

Long gone is the strong baroque sky

With its metallic show of shadows and lights

Of silvery, coppery and golden cloud linings

Of an interminable summery sunset.

In winter brevity is the rule

But its subtle palette of opaline display

From the milky white ones

Speckled with flakes of multicolours

To the powerful charged black opals

Loaded with dark violent violet hues

Spread across with fiery crimson ones.

Each eventide takes on a unique personality 

Only revealed to our eyes as twilight,

For a too short moment,

Brings its harmonious symphony 

Of muted tints delighting us

Before it becomes a call to go home

To the warm fire of the homestead.

Lucette C. Bailliet

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Labyrinthine slave

I'm a stone collector,

A slave to the labyrinth.

The more stones I feed it

The greedier it becomes.

It's an obsession

Everywhere I walk

I find myself looking for stones

Any shape, composition, colour,

There's no discrimination

Filling pockets and bags.

I bring them back to the labyrinth 

Without any fail 

They seem to disappear 

To merge in its structure effortlessly

I hear it murmur: More, ever more!

And I go to search more

To sate its infinite appetite 

Such a monstrous master.

Lucette C. Bailliet

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