Can of words - Poetry

Behind Life of dainty Curtain

Once a beautiful day, along blossoms of rainbow flowers.

On windy hill veiled like with hymns and melodies.

A hue of millennium lead me to a horizon.

Far, far away of boundless latitudes.

My soul settled, my heart at peace.

'T was an immortal tranquillity.

Between frills of glorious moments.

intervals of mystical phenomena.

With curious imagination I ventured.

Gates of many wanderings my soul entered.

Archival arches relics of the golden past.

Reveals hidden testimony of Infinite mysteries.

Boulevard of wondrous universe.

In mutual union of Heavenly dominion.

Imbued human race of immense blessings.

Love, forgiveness and peace I implored healed my spirit.

Whatever may the future further more lies ahead.

Quest of my soul's journey graciously granted.

Transience lane of rolling clouds on clear blue skies.

Cascade of Carillon towards eternal avenue.

Rhymes and hymns absolutely magnificent.

Stream of tender voices lull the heaven race.

Ocean of love, fountain of joys.

Drifted me towards spectacular life behind dainty curtain.

©Lucy Fantin, Ingham, Australia 2007

A BURNING TALE

The dragon speaks.

Its susurrous story soon soars to harsh words that now roar
in the throat and sear through the skin of the boy forced

to listen; trapped by the drop of those sere, scarlet curtains,
his eyes voice the scream that his tongue cannot form.

Two wailing chariots enter the chapter;
one wages war with the flame-tongued harbinger,
and one gently carries the boy into night.

Burnt pages are turned:
ritual debridements are just one of the verses

that’s etched on his parchment, and maggots too, dine well

on that weeping-skin canvas; he's a vellum-clad volume

of innocence no more
while the stainless steel bathtubs of iodine and chloride
raze bacterial battlefields and pipers skirl dirges

on his mind’s distant shores.

The dragon has spoken its tale yet again;
its telling leaves only a child charred and cauterised,
and a little boy no longer

curious about matches.

NO IDEA

My first little ditty came in a flash,

So I thought I'd give it another bash.

here I've sat for almost a day,

Not a single idea has come my way.

I've thought about this,

And I've thought about that.

I've even conversed with the cat

"Give it up," is what she said. Perhaps she's right.

I'm off to bed.

De- POMS

Two pommies went a fishing in a place called Fishers Creek

The sky was very Cloudy and the wind so very bleak

They found the bait a plenty - tide running out quite fast

Then came a happy shout I've got a fish at last

After much commotion we bought the fish aboard

Down went our emotions that just before had soared

Laying in the boat was a fish they call the cat

Looking really ugly and very ,very fat

Came a little later another joyous shout

I think I've got another one I hope I get him out

Disappointment struck again a toad upon the line

We hit it with a donger and cut the line this time.

Catching bream and grunter that should have been at school

Every fish we caught made us the bigger fool

I'd like to find the joker that gave this creek it's name

I really just need someone to take a little blame

Next time we go fishing we'll try old Sunday Creek

Maybe with a prayer or two the day won't be so bleak

The moral of this story I'm sure you all can tell

One Pommie fishers bad enough but two of them are HELL !!!