Replenish

Today I claim
softness
beneath my feathery doona
on a rainy day
with my cuddly dog curled
in the gentle curve
behind my knees

When I can no longer bear
the push and pull
of others' expectations
I claim these moments
breath by breath
caressed by silky sheets

With this safety
I succumb to timelessness
where all else can wait
while I simply
replenish

3/3/12

Slowly slowly

Shway shway across the desert -
releasing burdens there
shway shway endure the draining heat
make room for those who care
shway shway expel mirages
true feelings hurt yet heal
shway shway the barren desert
becomes a guiding wheel

(3/9/99)

Why

Mesmerised by spinning animations
mixed colours of the rainbow
angels, hearts and magical creations
the price is high
for that fleeting, winning feeling
passion runs dry
as greed encapsulates the soul
smoke fills the body
no match for the coal
the price is high
for the loss of the soul

(6/8/99 on poker machines)

Corrine

Sun shines brighter
silver coffin submerged
two sparrows sing
her soul free
from the pain she carried,
growing,
deep inside,
daily
pain disguised
killing love's essence
pain outlives her lifeless body
Last Goodbye
gathering, weeping, reminiscing
love must be stronger
conquering, feeling, being
Love

(31/7/99 Leppington, for Corrine)

Revolt of the munchkins

The wizard just was
said he knew it all
he was the dictator
we munchkins blindly, miserably obeyed
worthless munchkins
robotic, rigid
performing daily tasks
mundane
we all had our place,
by no choice of our own
a storm lingering, waiting
why???
dared to dream
fought evil battles
with one so close
intelligent yet dangerous wizard
anarcy! freedom!
war, darkness
truty, light

(July 1999)

The magic of Barcelona

The moon verges on full
twilight brings the streets alive
first star is seen
oh natural high I love you so

My soul expands
with each slow step
far out in the Incas
music was born,
for me this day
my soul awakes
sweet music provokes dance
oh natural high I love you so

La Rambla incites
self expression for all
breathing fire
under the stars of a Spanish sky
oh natural high I love you so
the magic of Barcelona

(Barcelona, 3/10/98 - meditating in a gorgeous church triggered the magic of the night)

Eternal

A taste of freedom
lingers forever
it may be forgotten -
for a while.
The feeling longs to emerge;
an angel's persistence
ensures the return

(Cesky Krumlov, July 1998, the synchronicity of meeting Nicole Eiden, a creative spirit and writer)

Familiar Faces

Familiar faces from unknown places
drawn together
possibilities
abundant, endless

Familiar faces from unknown places
resisting each other
with lessons to learn

Familiar faces from unkown places
I've been here before
will come again
face to face
with you

(written in Europe, July 1998)

Freedom Beach

The sky lit up with the lightning's energy
with it I was born
the sound of thunder in the distance

Fear repressed the memory
Insatiable soul
Did I do this?
The thunder gets closer

Constant search for lightning
outside energies gave glimpses -
but the void was never full
the thunder loses control,
piercing my soul

Fairies guide me
lightning strikes again
the thunder succumbs,
I can see

I needed the thunder to see the lightning
together they merge
the storm subsides,
I am me!

My soul sings freely to the universe

(Written in Sinai, Freedom Beach, 11/4/98)

Magical Moher

The screaming white children
fly beneath the transformed sea
all the while the wise cliff smiles -
for she knows

The sea crashes against her face,
exposing her to the elements.
The truth has forever moulded her smile.

A woman stands on the cliff
facing the sea
and smiles.
For the sea reflects the truth,
she succumbs to her fragility
which is, paradoxically, her strength

(March 1999, Cliffs of Moher, Ireland)

Age

Her orange juice full
her face frozen,
locked in age

The ticket seller approaches,
a warm breeze

Her lips move,
a spark in her eyes

She fleetingly feels the time
when her face was not frozen
her younger self oblivious to age
her orange juice empty
her life full

(6/8/99 CHP RSL Club)

Into the machine

Most mornings the Lebanese security guard greets her
Shalom!
Her face lights up
turning on poker machines
nostalgia sneaks in
Gliding through game parks
spinning zebras disappear
behind the smoky mist of gamblers

She's called to pyramids
her pager echoing Cairo's horns
'It took my money!' 'The green queen!'

She sings with longing
for all to hear,
but they remain oblivious
as keno numbers crowd television screens
'$10,000 has been won!'
whinging prevails...

She stops,
smiles to herself as they
spend the money she saved
to transform computer graphics
and travel into the machine


(I wrote this in 1999 whilst working in an RSL Club)

Yellow Fingers (written in 1999)

His sunlight-bathed crown waved,
leaf-fingers yellow, a tired sun
She danced in autumn's shower
arms flung above her head
touching petrified leaves

Clouds she passed earlier
on a fuelled bird
wept tropical tears
preparing cushioned mud coffins

Naked he mourned
absent yellow fingers

(written in Hervey Bay on a soulful solitary trip)

From ordinary to extraordinary

Indelible Spirit

I never held your small soft hand
Nor felt the welcome weight of you
Whispers by the waterfall
Promises flowing, visions forming

In my mind I saw you
Laughing on the effervescent beach
With your doting daddy
Hurley following, frolicking
His squirrel’s tail wagging in the salty air
I saw me, loving you beyond measure

Fragrant honeysuckle song awakening my senses
Kindling my personal power
Encircling the untrammelled terrain

A lakeside farewell
Myriad diamonds blinking greetings
From the watery expanse
A soulful walk into pain

Stillness

My tears amplify the space I have for you
I await your return
The slowness of grief
Urges me through the downpour

Beside the gushing waterfall of applause
my fearful hands unfurl

Affecting evolution

In an attempt to temper my incessant tendency to construct a grand narrative of every sensual encounter, I discarded all my journals. Gone. Journals filled with analysis of every requited or unrequited love and the dominance of my inner critic lashing out at me for sabotaging opportunities. Ultimately, it was never the fault of the other, always me. Unrelenting inner critic. The purge was sparked by a coincidence which I initially coined: 'this is it!' I bumped into an old lover and thought it was my opportunity to redeem myself, to reverse the sabotage. I pulled out my old journals and tried to make sense of how I was feeling when I was first with him, in an effort to avoid repetition.

On our first date (second time around) I was determined to remain light-hearted and flirty, ignoring the niggling warning signs. By the second date I realised that what I initially called sabotage was actually an intelligent internal warning system, telling me that this man was not right for me, that this man was pushing my boundaries. He displayed the same arrogant, manipulative behaviour that caused me, after an elongated denial, to delete his phone number in the first place. In essence his re-entry into my life, rather than being because he is my soul mate, was to enable me to trust my instincts and my own judgement.

Discarding the journals was a symbolic gesture, communicating to the universe that I trust myself; I don't have to hold on to the past or try to control the things that happen to me. Letting go of my journals was like saying yes to myself, in all my resplendence, and moving away from the victim mentality. Empowering. Due to my love of writing, I started up a new gratitude journal with the specific purpose of writing all the things I'm grateful for, describing the world around me in poetic language. Instead of writing ‘yeah, but...’ I write ‘yes, and…’. Now there is a sense of spaciousness in my emotional life; I want to cultivate and augment communication with the wisest part of my innermost self.

I was recently at Centennial Park in Sydney during a storm. When the rain subsided I wandered through the park with my friends. Further down the path I saw tiny droplets of rain clinging to the long grass like a multitude of fairy lights. Sporadic drops like diamonds. I thought of the Brahma Kumaris and their philosophy that we are all points of light, like diamonds, and I subsequently felt peaceful, connected. As we crossed the bridge I looked up and saw two rainbows, one of which was the brightest, most vivid representation of the colour spectrum I have ever seen. Later, on a white fence in someone’s front yard, snails left sparkling trails in their wake.

What a magical day.

I have a capacity for delight and I therefore generate love; a love of the natural world, of other people, of myself. Now there is no ‘waiting for the one’, for I have ascended to a different level and my acceptance is without measure.

Old poems

The void

What happened to the words
Transformed from images
In my mind?
There’s a space between paper and I
Where a feeling, a picture
Fades into oblivion

Maybe one day
I’ll see a dress being sewn,
Or a bed of frangipanis
Covering autumns concrete,
Or they’ll take my picture
And the flash will tell me
Where the words went

© Suzanne Madden 11/5/2000


El vacio

A donde se fueron las palabras
Convertidos de los imagines
Dentro de mi mente?
Entre el papel y yo hay un espacio
En donde un sentido, un dibujo,
Se marchita al olvido

Quizas un dia
Yo vere a algien cosiendo una vestida,
O una cama de flores cubriendo el suelo otono,
O me tocaran una foto mia,
Y el flash me diria
A donde se fueron las palabras

© Suzanne Madden 11/5/200


Beneath the Pencil

Would you transform my body into print?
Would you sketch the curves
Voluptuous and real?
Would you caress my skin
With lead between your fingers,
Creating what you see?

Passionfruit’s purple cover
Houses seeds amidst
Succulent flesh
Would your pencil break through?
Would you go inside?
Your incisive grey body –
And mine
Tasting drawn reality

I’ll kiss the sheets
of the life you want,
the life I want

© Suzanne Madden 2000


The Waitress

I served my life on white china
Hollow mussels oyster shells
Published secret ingredients garnished
With obliging smiles

Coconut insides fade on white –
china on the path
Lost fragments amidst spilt milk
Like futile jigsaws
Awaiting my naked feet

© Suzanne Madden 1999


Stream

If you asked me what I was thinking
I would not reply
A restrained tear
Would fall slowly,
Sliding down smooth skin
And when you’ve gone
Tears left behind
Would rush through the gap
Of the first truth.
Amidst brewing emotions,
A smile.
You wanted a glimpse of the within
You saw a stream
Do you like swimming?

© Suzanne Madden 28/3/2000


Exposure

Across unmade plains of
Water’s grave
Ancient shells scattered
Like discarded babes
I slide blistered feet
Beneath the naked bed

Where rain once tickled
The ocean’s surface
Day’s middle
Shoots spears of blindness
To the pupils of those
Born before their souls

Deserted dreams
Sit in clouds
A floating oasis
Shimmering the upper divide
Pain’s wake steers sharply
To now

Unveiling
Spring Ostriches

© Suzanne Madden 2000


Dust

She exposes you,
Pirouetting particles
Slippers within her beam

I pause
You dance with air

Finale on my skin,
My freshly polished piano

Solitary nights when you
Sleep with the sun
I play alone

When life-fire subsides,
My closing song
I know you’ll be waiting

Someone will watch me,
Some day,
Glimmering

© Suzanne Madden 2000

La mariposa resplandeciente

Quiero salir del capullo
de la ambiguedad
a la intimidad del especifico
quiero dejar que aflorezca mi alma
- fuego y hielo -
tranquilizando los demonios por dentro
ellos crecieron en espacios encerrados pero
al llegar al desconocido
se disipan
y yo
despierta
la espontaniedad elimina la repeticion
yo no se
- y yo se -
en medio de la nada
florece una semilla
no afectada de lo antes
una lona vacia de
ilimitado

(c) Suzanne Madden 27/12/01

La mariposa resplandeciente

I want to emerge
from the cocoon of ambiguity
into the intimacy of specificity
I want to expose my soul
- fuego y hielo -
soothe the demons inside
they bred in confined spaces yet
into the unknown they dissipate
and I
awake.
Spontaneity eliminates repetition:
I do not know
and, I know
In the midst of nothingness,
a blossoming seed
untramelled by BEFORE
a blank canvas of
limitless becomings.

(c) Suzanne Madden 27/12/01