Reading Vinny’s blog and his wonderful ‘Wind Chimes’ poem reminded me of a poem I wrote in 2002 when I found my life was suddenly turned upside down, down-under.
I had to pack up the house I’d lived in by myself for 28 years after divorce, while I explored the possibilities of returned love at the age of 52 and learnt to share my sacred space again.
It was not always easy but my reward was a love I didn’t know was possible.
Wiki Photo of Jacarandas. I had planted one to remind me of my Zambian home.
Renovations
.
house loud
full of colored voices
frequently gathered
while fancy-dressers
danced in yellow
.
purple walled
creative spaces
where words poured
like leaking taps
Bali knick-knacks
.
replaced by exercise
machines marching
across gym-lounge
to a new beat
sparse spare look
.
quiet everyman
wants resale
erasing all memories
of trees – too many
for the block
.
each shading the other
fighting for sun-space
whispering familiar songs
on the wind-chimed
Asian tinkling
.
mellow sunsets
through leaves
attractive natives
dragon flies
hand-long
banjo frogs
.
moaning
children at night
now disturbed
environment dusty
denuded earth rubble
.
on a bared land
eight pots
represent my effort
to scramble bits
hold onto my old home
.
garden spikes
colored leaves
rainbows fast
disappearing
like me
.
palms wave
goodbye fronds
like giant hands
Lillipilli twitters
dancing on bough
.
Jacaranda carpet
my regal path
to happiness
contained fields
of unruly daisies
.
white and purple
self-seeding
not needing input
this house face
lifted to halt age
.
contemporized
sold out
beige-d
like every other
me-erased
.
Frances Macaulay Forde © 2013
Perth Words... exploring possibilities. 