Ode to my stomach

Oi, yes, I'm talking to you, stomach! 

I know you are my second brain

But would you be kind enough to be quiet,

I'd like to think in peace, for goodness sake.

No need to have a tantrum, bloat yourself

And be such a pain, in order to catch my attention, 

You've got it, may I say. 

Already the potions are lined up

On my bedside table waiting for their turn

To be useful. Good, the threat is working

And you've pacified, a short nap

Will suffice to restore our relation

And forget all this nonsense.

L. C. Bailliet copyright 

Because he cares

He brings  me a fruit juice
First thing in the morning
Because he cares.
He gives me a banana
At breakfast
Because he cares.
He sets up the sun chaise
In the garden
Because he cares.
He fetches me a blanket
To keep me warm in the wind
Because he cares.
He brings me my pill
Because he cares .
He pours me a glass of water
To go with it
Because he cares.
Life with him is full
Of small gestures
Made into loved ones
All day long
Simply because he cares.

L. C. Bailliet
12/7/2013

EOFY Sales

Shopping is fun
With my beloved daughter
During the end of financial year sales
'For that price they could have added the buttons'
Says she looking at the hefty price tag
Accompanying a jacket.
To a lovely red leathered tote bag
That I was stroking sensuously
I heard a hushed but distinctive
'Keep stroking it, mum'
Once she had found the so called
Discounted label.
For shame we found a dress
Dearer than the hand made
Alto recorder we just ordered
That will take two years
To be ready to play!
And they dare to call it Sales!

L.C. Bailliet
24/06/2013

Gimme Love

Gimme love
Without it the world is grey, empty and senseless

Gimme love, gimme love
Otherwise I feel I'm a weathervane
Without direction turning in a void

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love
Without reason  or an ounce of compassion
I'll commit a crime for diversion

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love, gimme love,
That it lights, warms and rules my life
So I can share it with you

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love!

Gimme love, gimme love, gimme love!

Lucette C. Bailliet

Women's Day Blues

Women's day on the 8th of March,
Each year that day makes me sad
Today it is the saying
"Don't be a woman that needs a man
Be a woman a man needs!"
It's been a long time
That a woman needed to define
Herself by fulfilling a man needs.
Ladies, have we returned to the fifties?
And then to add insult to injury
The message was dedicated
To all the beautiful and strong ladies!
What about the ugly and weak ones
They exist do you know and they have rights too!
In what rotten world do we live
That only our appearance is valued?
L.Bailliet
8/03/2013

Defective verbs

Believers' world over and

Atheists' worldwide are

Two different species

Sharing the same space and timelines

Unfortunately as it makes it harder

To cross the invisible divide

Built on the use of language.

Faithfuls reserve to themselves

The defective verbs

Thou shall not steal

You can't freely love

You ought to obey

You might fail in your resolutions

Because you’re weak

You will be damned for eternity.

It all starts with self criticism

And puts a wall between them and us

While the atheists are quite happy

To live and let live. The others,

The believers have to suffer.

In my humble opinion

It's all about survival

But at least guilt is not to be tolerated.

L. Bailliet©

26/01/2013

The big dry is here.

 

In the dearth of summer

Yea wetlands are suffering

For the big dry is here.

The mossy carpet has become

Red and powdery,

The cracks are everywhere

Ready to swallow a curious umbrella.

And the top soil has become dust

To be blown away by the hot wind.

It's become a drab place

Dangerous to walk

For the large river gum trees

Tend to shed their branches

In order to survive.

Beware of timber falling

Wind or no wind blowing

The river is reverting to a slow creek

And the billabongs are reduced

To cracked muddy basins.

The big dry is here.

L. Bailliet©

25/01/2013

The storm crier

The kookaburra was right,

Three days ago in the noon of the day,

Its clear and true laugh

Told of the coming storm.

Despite people saying

It was only an old wife's tale

The storm came powerful

And lasting

With lightning still lacerating the sky

And thunder threatening

Five hours after it started.

Oh! The sheer pleasure of the fresh deep scented air

Coming thru the open windows,

Ballooning the sheer curtains.

The fracas of the rain,

From the hammering on the roof

To the cascading waters in the vertical gutter,

Its splashing on the wet and overflowing courtyard,

Oh the pleasures of a good storm bringing 
Our sighting of our first frog

Waking up from the deep dry.

L. Bailliet©
24/01/2013

Impressions landaises

Impressions landaises, pays

Où chante un accent chaud et rocailleux,

Mais le ciel bleu d’un coup

Déchiré par un vol de palombes,

Survolant la mosaïque des champs,

Projette l'ombre d'une flèche à géométrie variable,

Que guettent au sol,

Les chasseurs tapis dans la pénombre. 

Sous le fallacieux prétexte d'un refuge

D'une clairière tranquille, piège véritable

D'un labyrinthe fatal,

Les oiseaux trop confiants

Suivant l'appel d'un confrère prisonnier

Servant d'appât, descendent vers une mort certaine.

L. Bailliet©

 Septembre 1982

Spleen

Douceur de vivre

Douleur de vivre

Une seule lettre change

Et tout change

Ainsi va la vie.

L.Bailliet©

4/4/83

Il est parti

Je ne sais pas où est parti

Celui que je nommais mon ami

Vers quelle ville, quel pays

Il s'est enfui.

Sans me dire adieu

Sous prétexte d'aventures

En autres lieux

Oubliant mon nom

Chantant d'un air radieux.

Il ne s'est pas retourné

Sans dévier il a continué

Son chemin sans une pensée

Vers moi qui l'ai maintes fois consolé.

Ainsi que naît l'espoir du désespoir

Qu'une fois il voudra me revoir

Et reviendra comme par hasard

Sonner chez moi un soir.

Pour se blottir contre moi

M'aimer une dernière fois

En m'assurant de sa foi

Et de son éternel amour pour moi.

L. Bailliet©

28/3/83

L'écharpe

Une fois l'hiver venu

La montagne au nez pointu

Était tout en émoi

D'avoir le bout du nez si froid

Elle se plaignit tant et geignit si fort

Que son ami le vent du nord

D'un devoir se fit un plaisir

De quelques nuages cotonneux

Une écharpe lui offrir

Que la montagne coquettement

Drapa autour d'elle même frileusement.

L. Bailliet©

4/7/83

Nonsense

De plus en plus je découvre

Grâce aux œufs au bacon

Je ne sais plus où est la donne

La mouche semble peser une tonne

La moindre nouvelle

Et c'est Jupiter qui résonne

Dans l’éther rouge de l’été.

L. Bailliet©

4/7/83

Contes perdus

Contes à jamais perdus

D'un pays à jamais connu,

D'un peuple à jamais oublié,

D'un temps à jamais révolu,

Sans passé, sans futur et sans présent.

La question se pose de savoir,

D'où vient cette ombre nostalgique

Hantant sans cesse ma mémoire

De glorieux vestiges d'une histoire inconnue?

Quels sont ces parfums étranges

Portés par des vents lointains inexistants

Dont seule la probabilité d'un probable

Est poussée à l’ultime nullité?

Pas de pays, pas de territoire,

Pas de guerres, pas d'histoire

Et pourtant une saveur,

Comme un arrière-goût d'un vécu

Qui aurait du être, qui aurait pu exister,

D'un possible devenir à jamais annihilé

N'ayant jamais vu le jour.

Seul l'écho de mes rires et de mes pleurs

Prolongent dans ce monde vide

Une vibration vite normalisée.

L. Bailliet©

 14/3/83

Plenty Valley

Plenty Valley,

Likes a outback look

Despite been just built,

If we believe the rusty sign post.

It presents itself

As the next fashionable suburb

With trains, buses to town,

Cafes and gardens.

What is has in plenty,

And that's true,

Is the number of traffic lights,

For I have counted them,

At the crossroads up to eighteen

For a three way intersection.

For the rest it is slightly lacking

As for entertainment it has none.

L. Bailliet©

23/01/2013

Familiars

What home creatures do you keep at home?

For renting we can't have pets!

So we have familiar pests

There’s the daddy long legs,

That moved from the shower cubicle

To underneath the commode,

I disturb it ritually

Every week while vacuuming.

There’s the ugly black cricket

That keeps popping up everywhere

Despite being carefully put back

In the garden where it should belong.

Stubborn little creature!

Lastly there’s the large night moth

That refuses to follow the lights

To the safety of the garden

And keeps flying directly

Into one's face.

So this place is not so unfriendly

As I first thought.

But I still miss my dogs.

L. Bailliet ©

22/01/2013

The Lady of the lost ring

For a few hours like Gollum

I'd lost my precious,

In my case my mum's wedding band

Forged and worked on by my grand-father,

Who definitively was not Lord Sauron,

I therefore became the Lady of the Lost Ring,

Ringing title of a last and unknown chapter

Of the vast Middle Earth world.

After breakfast the gruesome

Discovery was made

En route for Akaroa.

That it was no longer there

Was an obvious staring fact.

I suddenly felt the weight

Of all the memories

Attached to it and irremediably lost

To my daughter from that day forever.

But thankfully it had been found and kept

At the restaurant we had dined

On the previous day.

L. Bailliet copyright

20/1/2013

Fortress Mentality

No wonder the Australian people

Have got into this fortress mentality

With the Asylum Refugees boat people,

As for them getting through life

Is simply too dangerous

As soon as they live home.

When one drives off the main

Highways, one is met

With signs mentioning

That the area is one of great risk,

No wonder one finds oneself

Alone only a short journey off Melbourne

Even in holidays period.

The state is advertising the danger

Of travelling in bushfire season,

The message is clear

Keep to the town

The country is dangerous,

So the habit is formed and entrenched

Everything outside one's own suburb

Is dangerous thus including outsiders.

L. Bailliet©

4/01/2013

Pas étonnant que les australiens

Aient cette mentalité de forteresse

Avec les réfugiés de la mer

Si l’on considère les dangers

Qui les entourent dans la vie

Dès qu'ils quittent la maison.

Quand on sort des routes principales,

L’ autoroute est remplie

Avec les signes qui  mentionnent

Que la région est une à grands risques

Nul étonnement donc

À ne rencontrer personne

Seul un court trajet hors de Melbourne

Dans cette période de fêtes.

L'état publicise le danger

De voyager en saison des feux de brousse

Le message est clair

Rester en  ville

La  campagne est dangereuse.

Ainsi, l'habitude est formée et enchâssée

Dans la psyché de tout Australien

Tout ce qui existe en dehors de sa propre banlieue

Est dangereux incluant ainsi les étrangers.

L. Bailliet©

4/01/2013

Yea's wetland track

I don't know what it is about the bush

That is so healing

As soon as we hit the track

The sighting of a Crimson Rosella made

Us forget the boring road trip just completed

Suddenly our mood improved

Our steps got lighter and slower

The good town of Yea had done us a favour

With their wetland bush track

The wooden suspended bridge

Felt like a huge swing under our feet

Slowly awakening under their resonating rhythm.

The birds and butterflies crossed our path

Without showing any shyness

The afternoon sun released the smells

Over the muddy and shadowy billabongs

Where a multitude of noisy frogs were nesting

Offering us a lovely interlude.

L. Bailliet©

5/01/2013

Je ne sais pas pour quelle raison

La brousse est si apaisante

Dès que nous avons touché la piste

L'observation d'un Crimson Rosella  

Nous fit oublier le voyage ennuyeux

Soudain, notre humeur s’améliora

Nos pas furent plus légers et plus lents

La bonne ville de Yea nous faisait une faveur

Avec leur piste de brousse humide

Le pont de bois suspendu

Devint une balançoire énorme sous nos pieds

S'éveillant lentement sous leur rythme sonnant.

Les oiseaux et les papillons croisèrent notre chemin

Sans montrer aucune timidité

Le soleil de l'après-midi développait  les odeurs

Le long des billabongs boueux et ténébreux

Où une multitude de grenouilles bruyantes nichaient

Nous offrant  une belle parenthèse sonore.

L. Bailliet©

5/01/2013

Jill and Alex

Unlike Jill over the hill

Cracking her crown

Alex went down the stairs

On her booty

Found that trip

Was far too quick

And howled on arrival

To get to the loo!

Bruises might add a tint or two

To your natural hue

But painful they are!

Please leave the world

Of nursery rhymes

When next time

You quit your attic

In such a hurry!

L. Bailliet©

6/01/2013

Contrairement à Jill sur la colline

Se cassant la tête

Alex descendit les escaliers

Sur son derrière

Trouva ce voyage

Beaucoup trop rapide

Pour arriver aux toilettes

Et hurla à l'arrivée !

Les ecchymoses peuvent ajouter une teinte ou deux

À ton teint naturel

Mais qu’ils sont douloureux!

S'il te plaît laisse le monde

Des comptines

La prochaine fois

Que tu quittes ton grenier

Dans une telle hâte!

L. Bailliet©

6/01/2013