Wednesday, 30 January 2019

Australian Summer Haiku



Storm in the morning
A summer day has gone by
Storm in the arvo.

Lucette C. Bailliet 
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Monday, 28 January 2019

Why the rush?

I'm certain of it
I'm sure, it's so obvious
Death has recruited apprentices
Business is booming
Waiting lists are full
Everyone around me
Has received a notice
Pacemaker, skin cancer,
Lung cancer, Diabetes,
Accident, Alzheimers, old age 
And the list is endless
Why the sudden rush?
Has Death doubts
About the next few months?
Does she know something we don't?
Wants to clear the deck, so to say
For a new influx?
Overtime, that's what she does
Or so it looks to me
Calm down, will you, 
You have Eternity 
After all working for you!

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved

Monday, 21 January 2019

Zen

It is fascinating 
How a philosophy 
Based on mindfulness 
And immobility 
Has across time
Managed to paint, 
To write, to capture, 
The instant, the moment
The movement frozen into eternity
The second when a wave
Is to crash, a leaf to fall,
A bird to fly, a moon to rise
A woman to reveal herself
Beauty then becomes
An expression of fleeting perception
For us to enjoy.

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved

Woolf moon

Woolf moon 
Her silent scream
Mounts from the horizon
To fill the night sky
Her ruddy tint shows 
She was successful 
In her kill tonight
Super moon 
As she climbs 
The night mountain
She cleans herself 
And takes her place
Disdainful and contemptuous 
Of the world below her
For she knows
There is no rival
In existence to compete
With her serenity.

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved 

Thursday, 17 January 2019

Childhood friends


Where are you 
Friends of my  childhood?
Violette, Charlotte, Arlette,
Armelle, Brigitte, Françoise 
Like the pearls of a necklace
Strung between two silken knots
You are but shadows of my youth
You only exist in my memory
Between a span of a few years 
I have forgotten your face,
The colour of your eyes,
The games we played,
The stories we made
Only the sound of your names remains.

Empty shells of grownups
If married you would  have changed your name
If divorced you might have reverted to your maiden name
I knew you by your first names
You were my friends
That was sufficient for me
Childhood does not care
For social protocols 
Already your steps imprints
Are fading on the road of souvenirs
In the whirlwind of life.

You and I have moved on
Nostalgia might be romantic
For a moment or two
But the pull forward
To get on with it 
Is too strong a current to resist
So Au revoir and adieu 
My lost friends. 

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved

Sunday, 13 January 2019

Murray-Darling River

If our neighbour
Declares a river
Has the same rights
As a human being,
Here in Oz
We go one further,
And kill out 
Our main river
All for the sake
Of holy greed.
One would think
Water is primordial 
To life on the driest continent
It turns out that profit is.
Rest In Peace!

Lucette C. Bailliet 

All rights river

Friday, 11 January 2019

My pen is blunt

EeeMy pen is blunt nowadays 
Where is the rage against injustice
Sharpening its point?
Today I want more kindness.

Where is the horror shock
To wars and their victims?
Today I want more love.

Where is the sense of emergency 
When looking at climate change disasters?
Today I want more security.

Is my due time limit showing its obsolescence?
Acceptation of droughts and cyclones 
Devastation and catastrophes 
Have done their job of slow erosion
Today I want to live in peace.

I'm tired and it shows
No scandal rises my ire any more 
Be it political, economic, 
Social or environmental 
I let the bygones be bygones.

The world can fight without me
Until I can put a smile back 
On my beloved faces 
Then it's all I need to return 
To dispatch the fiery windmills 
Lightning the world's skyscape.

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved 

Thursday, 10 January 2019

Falling asleep

Falling asleep
In the blackness of the night
Falling asleep 
In the inert silence of the night
Breathing slowly, deeply, heavily
In the stickiness of the airless night
Limiting sight behind
The drawn blinds of her eyelids
What's there to see 
In a room 
With closed curtains
Behind closed Windows 
Behind  locked shutters
Blocking any moonlight 
Tempting to awake
Sleeping Beauty
Resting there
Her mind is a blank ripple
Crossing the mirror 
Of her nightlight dreams
Empty dreamscape 
Of perpetual fog
Swirling to an unfelt wind
To the Rhythm of an absent music
Time advances by ticking away
Infinite disturbance 
Tearing at her flesh endlessly 
Remorselessly to dissipate
Erasing her remains. 
For To sleep is to die nightly.



Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved 

The blind assassin

It is said
One has to be grateful 
For small favours
Then I'm grateful
For pens is what we handle
As writers we are
And not butchers
Otherwise knives
Would fly and
Blood would flow
Bad blood
Coloured black
By rumour
For if Justice is blind
Rumour is the blind assassin.


Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved 

Wednesday, 2 January 2019

Chilling out

You know it's hot
When the rhubarb stems wilt at sight
You know it's hot
When the strawberries melt in the shade
You know it's hot
When the chilli are drooping 
You know it's hot
The basil goes limp
You know it's hot
When the roses wither on the spot
You know it's hot
When in the evening breeze
You chill out with Eyes Bloodshot, 
Tales of Halloween! 

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved

So proud to have my first chilling story published within, thank you to TSL, Ampat Koshy,  Firdaus Pervez, Aakriti Kuntal, Santosh Bakaya and everyone involved!!!

Tuesday, 1 January 2019

Sunset

Sunset sees us
Stomping in the forest
Hunting any hint
Of a fresh breeze
A welcomed respite
After the scorching heat 
Of a summer day
Swiftly we lose depth
The forest becomes
A Flat set
Of black vertical trunks
Against a fiery vivid display
Beautiful Chinese shadow screen
The world is but a show
You can watch it
Or you can be part of it
The choice is yours.

Lucette C. Bailliet 
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Whroo, Whroo

Whroo, whroo
The bronzed wood pigeons 
Wooing all day long
Whroo, whroo
No respite 
From the crested wood pigeons
Their wooing intrudes
On my mind
Whroo, whroo
When suddenly 
The penny drops
Whroo, whroo
Isn't the name of the gold digging place
Of yore in the forest?
It's neither a British name,
Nor an aboriginal one, 
Just an onomatopoeia!
Love it!

Lucette C. Bailliet 
All rights reserved 

Happy 2019

It's too hot to be sad
It's too late to be unhappy 
Here are The end of 2018
And the birth 0f 2019
No expectations for that one
What's the use
Just get on with it
So let's celebrate,
Happy New Year!

Lucette C. Bailliet 
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