Warnings & Good Tidings

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She said I could get sick
very ill, if I don’t check my self
warning me about someones
place with drugs & a room
with lights
I hope they are flashing
for I want nothing to do with it!

Despite that, I have good luck
all around me
I would happily pack my bags
to go to family, content
my wish coming true
somewhere to look forward to
happy feelings so often elude me
but not this time

Maybe more study
maybe, but I can’t see it
12 years or so was enough
unless it’s something different
working with children; children
more rewarding spiritually

There is money coming, lots
in the hand, I am shaking
an agreement; good feelings
it always turns up when least expected
I don’t have to worry
it’s all around me in abundance

She said I would help
a young man or small boy, maybe
a teenager an in-between
I can only think of one, Whisky
it would be my absolute pleasure
I’ve always wanted a boy
to love two/too

I’m invited to a wedding
either twice, or plus another
it would be a challenge, all those people
I sometimes get overwhelmed
in crowds, I am still
surprisingly happy

I am aware of security,
prowlers & thieves
several attempts fail to break
my safety zone, honed
creating our home like a fortress
I’d like to see them try
it’s under constant surveillance

My life is changing
& it’s all new, exciting
all good things come to those who wait
I feel great, finally I see
trust & calm
light is all around me
I am optimistically optimistic

I’m going to visit a girlfriend soon
somewhere beside the sea
a glass of wine, she tells me
more good news, I am truly blessed
thank Goodness

I’m not really a drinker
having learned from watching
others & my self
besides, drink driving
I’m not prepared to take the risk
the stakes are too high for everyone

Our home is beautiful
it feels lucky, a seven even
we want to go away
just the two of us, inland
no where in particular
as long as there is water near by
I think I can arrange that

It all looks good
whatever I wish for –
for once in my life, I have
everything I need
good tidings are coming
into Christmas
I am ecstatically happy
listening to the ‘Ring of Fire’
my ‘Hurt’ knowing

My man is like living
with two sides of the same coin
he makes me very happy
his kindness seeing into me
his goodwill radiating in
& out of all of us, his children

He is a wonder to behold
his capacity to love & to watch
him self & his boy, with Whisky
this Christmas will be magical
Summer barbecues & sunshine
ALL my family around me

Our littlest princess is surrounded
by love & happiness too
I’m surprised about that
under the circumstances
that’s not for lack of wanting; my wish
for she is eternal
love knows know bounds
blood not necessarily blood

Daddy will be OK too, different
but OK because he is also loved
joy takes on many forms
it might not be what we expect
in laughter, safety & trust
either way we are lucky; money
doesn’t buy happiness

It will all be done by Christmas
my grandchildren, both my daughters
good news a plenty
the four of us together with family
you all make my life complete
I could not be as happy without you

I have to watch my health
I am under far too much stress
I worry, too much worry in my little finger
I will have a stroke one of these days
another warning
I don’t want to be alone with no one
left to care for me properly
my ambulance, my casket

I want a good, long happy life
to live till I’m 92 or more
good health, a great marriage
in love, light & laughter
I don’t think I’m being selfish
to want what everyone wants

I want to be around water
waves; breathing in & out
no squalls nearby, just calm
there is a rhythm here on earth
if we listen, if I listen
& let the silence speak

I am made of water
but my fire boils
I need to be dampened
just enough, so that I am tempered
fire needs water, water needs fire
to let off steam
my existence is dependent upon it

~

I can handle that
that reminds me
I need to drink more
water

¬© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

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Rheumatic Stigmata

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The bed creaks like your bones
that moan and groan
that slow grind through clenched teeth,
that need between the sheets

~

It’s August now
as cold as it gets here in Winter.
I’m buying an electric blanket
to warm you through; least I run you through
with my lasciviously pointy finger!

Still, I wrap my legs
around your freezing appendages,
making a spoonful of sugar
while you lick the cream
from your Cheshire ūüėÄ

I can’t help but bear your stubborn,
stoic Far North Queenslander pride;
pleasured simplicity, complicit
with your Will to burn the wick
at both ends, ajoint screaming
a string of profanity

In Summer, I knead
your splintered lamb shank
while you shovel nutrition down
with a tincture of mindfullness,
layer upon layer of oil, and Green Tea
setting the scene for a modern beer

I find it hard, to watch your tenacity
come face to face with Dachau – Grim
barking out his contempt
while she ducks for cover in sewage…

We have to make the trip worthwhile
or its all for naught; she signs a cross
Pope John Paul II raised the host
because he had all the respect in the world

for Mary.  Sometimes I wonder
what will become of our inheritance
if the light at the end of the tunnel
really is another oncoming train?

We have to find a way through
our fragile past lives where we would
seethe on the outside and cower on the in,
if it weren’t for temperance; sharp edges constrained by blunt force trauma

In the meantime, I heat the purple wheat bag in the microwave
laying it carefully between the sheets

You know I love you most when you least expect it

© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

RE BLOGGED on Dream Big Dream Often

Grey Matters

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She stepped down from the Northern Explorer, weary after the 12 hour sojourn from Auckland to Wellington.

All reasonable precautions had been taken to appear non-plussed but she was feeling more than a little ridiculous.  

Her fingers unfurled letting go, simultaneously dropping one shoulder, gravity to catch and release the taut strap of her laptop.  

All hit the platform with a collective thud!

To make matters worse, the baggage door rolled up, revealing more purple Sabini suitcases, added one by one to the mountain of dogs balls now assembling on the pavement. 

She picked past heads, shoulders and backs, furtive in her search of recognition, an extra pair of hands, a baggage cart.  

It had been 12 years since the last time he had crash landed on her doorstep, his purple XC Falcon panel van parked in the driveway.  

Jandles, jeans and a T-shirt, cap in hand.

He was at the Trax Bar, pint in hand, chatting up the female bouncer, blind.

His goat-skin duffel bag slung over the corner of a bar stool.  

His Yahoo Serious attitude to life rolled up into unkempt, sun-kissed natural dreadlocks that leapt out at all angles, confronting even the most liberal senses.  
He was in no hurry.  

What did she expect?  

It had been 20 years since they were an item that could only be described as an ‘eventful interlude at the crossroads of life’.

He traded in everything he’d accumulated (including me) and bought a ticket to nowhere in particular. ¬†

I could hear his favourite mantra replaying like an unpublished Cure single on repeat – there is no such thing as Grey.

Life was black and white.

Grey was something she understood but for once there were no shades anywhere to be found.  

What on earth had possessed her to cross the Tasman with her most worldly possessions, an array of summer dresses and shoes?  

She could feel her stomach tighten, those butterflies rising like her awareness, threatening to expose her presumptive guilt.  

She walked away from her former life, pinning all her hopes and desires on another loose end she knew much better to mess with.  

Hope urged her on wondering if time had been kinder to him, an old flame may re-ignite… ¬†

God knows she needed to feel something.  

Her mind and body had long since turned down any flicker of excitement, preferring to wallow in stoic self-pity; feigned permanent damage, rendering her frigid.

He had always been her potential escape.  

Her reason to live without seeming too dramatic.  

She would have gone anywhere with him, she reflected, knowing he would see straight through her faux par Рher cheeks peak that most wanton shade of Crimson.  

Lowering her eyes, she made up her mind wrestling her way toward the lone baggage cart, daring anyone to make a beeline.  

Heading into the terminal, sweat running down the crevice of her back, she tapped out what she needed to say and waited, checking her mobile appearance in its reflection.

Her long tousled hair was a true expression of her frustration.  

Her large blue eyes smudged and blurred, once perfect Charcoal eyeliner betraying her yet again.  

Why did it have to be the hottest clear day of the most piss poor summer New Zealand had ever known?

¬© Copyright 2015, Jodine Derena Butler, ‘Poetry Out West’

© Copyright 2013, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Tiki Torches and the Odd Random Star

Tiki Torch in the Darkness

Summer nights
bbq’s & wine
friends & lovers
reflected in the flame

tiki torches;
wafts of citronella
drift up toward invisible clouds

random stars
make the night seem closer
no moonlight
just a gentle breeze
that cools my crimson skin

there is peace in the silence;
an afterglow,
yuletide’s sit in succulent ceramics
on the back steps

tonight I am content
tomorrow I am restless

here, I can take time

© Copyright 2011, Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Family

Christmas with family at lunch.  loved
ones in spirit present. noticeable
some of us not our usual selves. all of us
a couple of weeks and months ago
father, mother, uncle, aunt, cousin
brother, sister, husband, wife, lovers.

love is in the air with a sombre undertone
changing and evolving.  stronger
softer holding on
our spirit’s enquiring gently. ¬†hearts
like cedar louvres
blissfully breathing
lots of hugs and kisses
lots of smiles.

bull mastiffs lap attention unknowingly
giving of themselves.  more
a small child asks for help to go wee’s
as children do.  nona
chuckling as she leads her by the hand.

teenagers frolicking in the pool.  glorious
unfettered minds and bodies celebrating
organic feijoa wine freshly squeezed it seemed.  ripe
the sun in all of us.

pockets of people mingling.  glasses
raised and table laden.  giving thanks
quietly un-quiet mouths, eyes ,ears, skin
and something else.  savouring
sustaining the living and life.  gone
but not forgotten.

© 2008 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Carpenters Tale

My memory recalls
a time in the sunshine
at Christmas
those many years ago –
running and firing
the pistol drenched
us in tears
it was yellow
and red
like the times I bleed
like the time before that time
I thought I was dying
you remember laughter?
it comes and goes now
like a nervous leaf in Autumn
long after Summer
on the horizon
in the blue ute
down Tamaki Drive;
music loud
me singing a heart
shaped note in tune
I hoped
you’re bright Red tool
box taking pride
of place in the back seat
may as well.
You fell over me
warning you alarm bells
would soon wake you
for work
remember?

© Copyright 2008 Jodine Derena Butler.  All Rights Reserved

Ode to te Kawakawa

The plant of altered
medicine,
strong,
in all green mist,
blue river,
filtered in beams,
a giant
within the walkways,
a holy scar
in the towns:
the poison and the trauma
are heavy,
soil us
in the mind
like cesspools of tar,
with stalking black arrows,
they torment
our soul
with invisible fingers,
with cold blankets,
and the skin
suffers
more than every bone:
the blood
becomes urgent,
the spirit,
the heart, the mouth:
we want to taste
mountains,
the yellow summer breeze,
the Rain Forrest,
and then
most sustaining of all
the seeds bursts
the earth,
the heady, magnificent,
lifegiving KawaKawa.

© Copyright 2009 Jodine Derena Butler.  All rights Reserved

(appropriated from part of Ode to the Watermelon, Neruda, Pablo and Cesar Vallejo)