Something Different


Time Warp
 
In the hollow between cheek and eye is the story of my life
age and destiny have done strange things to the face I once knew
cheeks covered by a flourishing lawn of fine hairs
too many now for a quick flick with hot wax
lips thinning into nothingness
often startled by chance reflections.
Who is that obese, ageing woman?
 
It can’t be me
I am my father’s outspoken daughter
singing aloud in supermarkets
devilishly waving a black lace bra to truckies at the traffic lights
just to keep a sometimes conservative husband on his toes,
the lithe young woman who knows the freedom of splashing naked
at the edge of a deserted sea,
who once made glorious lust on Lorne beach
on a cold, dank winter’s night,
the woman who sees a well set table as a work of art
the dinner party wiz, sautéing, caramelising, flambéing
loves the planning, preparing, presenting
and the eating – oh the eating.  
 
Where is the courageous, spirited, thirty something
who gave up her job to study accounting
discovered a passion for words
realised she could never be an accountant
the blithe being who celebrated her 50th Birthday
strutting down Chapel Street
wearing a flowing red cape, purple feather boa
loving clutching a large, soft, teddy bear
smiling benignly at everyone she passed
 
Is that obese, ageing woman the struggling, questioning, mother
who buried her only child three weeks before his 27th birthday
survived the white water ride of why and what if
awoke shipwrecked on Prospero’s island
but instead of drowning her books
built a raft to float them home
and now finds joy meandering through toy departments
pushing buttons on all the talking Elmo’s
winking and chatting to small children she passes on the street
 
Who is that obese, ageing woman?
I am sometimes less than my truth
always more than perception.
 
Tricia 8/2007
(Previously published in Coastlines – Poems from Bayside)
 

 Lust Lives On

 
I have lived the wonder of love
Having known the best
I have no interest in the rest
But
Lust it seems does not die
Inside this battered bloated
60 year old mound of flesh
Lives a slender 20 something
Audacious
Bodacious bitch on heat
As Jon Bon Jovi struts his stuff
Sings his songs
A voice within me
Sings its own song
My song is moist
Taut nippled
Longing
Not for love
But for the promise of pleasure
The knowing of the unknown
Wanting only to be nicely naughty
One more time
 
Tricia

About triciabertram

I have written all my life. Writing helps me to make sense of a world I often don’t understand. Poetry is my supreme solace, closely followed by literature and music. When my son ended his life in 1999 I embarked on the most difficult journey of my life, my grief journey. To survive in this unknown, harsh landscape I had to write. It was for me, the only way I could even begin to move forward. Then in 2009 my darling husband died suddenly and so my journey continues. I write about other issues but because of my life experience, grief and death are continuing themes in my writing life. In our culture I believe there is a fear of death, an inability to accept the inevitability of our mortality, and this creates enormous difficulties for the bereaved and those around them. I have begun this blog in the hope I will create a small ripple in the pond of fear that is currently drowning the reality of death and grief. I will continue to skim the stones of my truth, watch them bounce, and see how many ripples I can make.

Posted on November 26, 2011, in On a Playful Note, Poems. Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Hi tricia I’m very much enjoying watching this website grow each day.
    Thanks for sharing so much of yourself.
    I am curious – there is no date to indicate when “Lust Lives On ” was written. Was that intentional?

  2. No Lisa. I wrote it after you and Nojy got me my wonderful TV and sound system and I began having my Bon Jovi fests. Lately I have been forgetting to date my poetry.
    I’ve had a Pink Floyd day today. Their music evokes something totally different in me. Have a prose poem somewhere that was inspired by their song Mother. Will dig it out and post it tomorrow.

  3. I love the imagery woven here, Tricia. It makes me smile and raise an eyebrow at that “nicely naughty” side of you. I think you should let her out to write more often, she’s sassy! xo

  4. Rod often said a similar thing to me Heidi. You will be seeing much more of her in the not too distant future. I have to write something new for my writer’s group meeting this week. I’m going to title it QOFE, if you think of the fridge magnet you gave me with the first word Queen you’ll “get” the title. The rest of ’em will have to ponder.

  5. You have indeed built a raft to carry home your books – a strong one.

  6. On occasion the water seeps through Fran, then I just bail like buggery.

  7. I feel a bit like an insider,,,you go QUOFE. We are surely related cause I am QOFU.. I related to the mirror shock and saging face muscles,,,not to mention my height problem..You see I am not overweight I am just overtall. You hold my interest with almost every word you share, cause you are honestly bold and corageous.

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