4 White Walls Vol I
The Inevitable Circle
Ambushed
Alive In The Moment
Quack in the Night
Mother, Dear Mother
Fly Free For The Moment
Sage Angel
4 White Walls
Just Ask Gran
Understand
White Cross, Green Grass
Poor Little Ebony
Big City Business
Curses
Curiosity
O'Night
Unworthy
Despair Unseen
“Quotes” & “Haiku”
All Poetry has been previously published on
StormSage Central prior to September, 2009.
www.blog.stormsagecentral.com
© Leanne Elliott, 2010
Published at Smashwords.
This book is dedicated to the
inspirational people in my life….
You know who you are.
Poetry
The Inevitable Circle
I have tried all my life
to comprehend the meaning of death;
to understand the circle we travel.
After life, what is there left?
And strangely now that I am confronted
with death, so close to home;
it has brought with it an inner calm,
replacing my fear of the unknown.
Death is something we can not change -
life, must be time well spent,
but there will come a time when death has you in its sight
and its gaze will not relent.
Inevitable is the circle of life
it is a force even human gods can not control.
Ultimately, death may conclude all life,
yet it can never take the soul.
I Wonder Why
You leave me feeling
Like a fragile hollow bubble
Floating over a field
Of sickly scented roses;
Enveloped in thorns
Protruding and ever so near.
You leave me feeling
Like a flat, deflated tyre
Immaterial and expendable;
Mended many times before
A temporary fix.
Now a spare, until whenever.
You leave me feeling
Like a neglected puppy,
Starved for affection
Abandoned and alone.
Wanting to love and to be loved
Needing a happy home.
You leave me feeling
Like a subservient fool
Detaining the truth
Of just how I feel
From even myself
Choosing ignorance; for it is, 'bliss'.
And yet…….. I am still here.
Ambushed
As I watch all I have known
crumble at my weary feet;
I can only describe my existence, this moment,
as being bitter sweet.
I do not want to realize
my own pain; held deep within.
Yet I find the suffering of others, harder to endure;
contorted faces - despairing.
Fate can not be right this time,
a mistake has been made, somewhere.
And if this is not the case, I believe
'God' to be cruel and equally unfair.
Ambushed with nowhere to run,
our hands are forcefully tied;
living on but hope alone,
all prayers so far denied.
(written 2003; about a loved one with terminal illness)
Alive In The Moment
Tranquil and secluded sandy beach
paperbark trees lining
her shores
so still and crystal clear.
Looking down to see
the sand between my
cold wet toes;
twitching with an exhilaration
not often felt
amidst the hustle and bustle
of existing; of everyday life.
Material walls, held upright
by metal poles and nylon ropes,
soon erected
where leaf covered sand
meets the thick
somewhat eerie bush setting.
Two huge gum trees
reach for the sky, with their
many twisted branches,
likened to dozens of bark covered tentacles
trying desperately to grasp the heavens.
The postcard sunset
admires at its own reflection
captured within
the liquid mirror below.
Such beauty is
to be admired.
Solid reflections unmask the shadows
of tiny little fins
and tail, busily making their way
to safety
before the exposure of night.
Only to become an evening snack
for the hungry, acrobatic Hawke,
so graceful and efficient;
full bellied and flying away
with what I believe was
a “goodnight” call.
Across the immense
body of brackish water
now silhouetted against
the dimly lit horizon;
mountains jut up
rising from the blackness.
Divulging their presence
ever so subtly.
The mountains too watching
as the Tsunami of fog
second by second, by second
it rolls down the lake -
Obscuring the night time beauty
with a fairy floss
coldness, only warmed
by the smokey campfire.
Dancing in the darkness.
Then like a magician
The opaque fog
Makes the world around me
Disappear.
It is now
in this very moment
that I am “living”;
Not just existing
Quack in the Night
Little duck,
in the dark,
do you ever get cold?
Where is your family?
lonely little duck,
so fluffy and not very old.
Next to the camp fire,
searching for morsels
of the tasty food people bring;
a woodland duck,
brown, black and beige, except for
the green feathers, so shiny tipping your wings.
Cute little duck,
with your belly fully,
waddle of into the lake; now hidden by fog.