October 29, 2002

Why My Room?

Horrid spirits shunning light
come to play in my room at night.
Round and round my bed they fly
giving vent to awful cries
There’s one with fangs and an awful leer
who fills my mind with dreadful fear.
I pull the sheet up to my nose…
then worry that he’ll bite my toes!
What’s that one got in her grip?
Oh it’s my Teddy she’s trying to rip!
Why do they bother me in bed
When I’ve been good …my mummy said!
The skinny one’s trying to comb his hair,
when he looks in the glass there’s no one there.
I’m going to get brave and cross the floor…
they rush into the closet; I slam the door!
Back in bed, I can hear them scream
Then I open my eyes…It was all a dream.

Posted by Midus at 07:54 PM

October 28, 2002

Albertina's Feast

Unbelievable that a few lines
of red and white chalk,
black ink and water
could endure six hundred years
when buildings have crumbled
in less.
Just glass between the paper,
the climate controlled air…
and me.
Nothing to distract from the
perfect curve of a cheek,
the tilt of a head
or the rakish angle of a hat.
Raphael and Rubens
hang next to each other
in a visual banquet
courtesy of Albertina.

‘Albertina’ is the name of the exhibition of Old Master Drawings on loan from the Albertina Gallery in Vienna, to the Art Gallery of New South Wales, Australia.

Posted by Midus at 04:43 PM

October 23, 2002


Sometimes I think in dreams,
disjointed fragments
imagination and reality,
taking hold of my subconscious.
I drift whilst seemingly awake
in realms where others
may not enter uninvited.
A private world of mist
swirling through my mind.
Hidden, that I do not wish to see.
Fantasy fiction truth,
I do not care to know if it be so
for I am safe in daydreams.

Posted by Midus at 07:45 AM

Through Cracks

Spread your fingers just a little wider
peer through the cracks at my world
I am a wisp of fancy
a moonbeam
enchanting and changing
captivating and deceiving
trust me if you dare…
Grasp at my elusive light
watch me evade your fingers
yet feel the coolness
as I whisper in your ear.
Run with me
come with me
enter your dreams.
Tie a silken thread to your bedpost
for you may lose your way.

Posted by Midus at 07:40 AM

Salem Sister

Six fingers on each hand?
“You’re born to hang”
the saying goes!
And so you did at sweet sixteen,
accused of being Witch.

Then cast onto the pyre,
your tortured body raised itself
as sinews tightened in the heat
and all about you screamed
“She was a witch indeed!”

You dug for Mandrake
by the dark of moon,
ears protected from its shriek,
to make a potion for a lass
as barren as a Winter fallow field.

To know so much
you had to be a witch!
Had you not devil’s spawn -
a cat who followed every step
and hung besides you on the gallows?

I gather Herbs.
Speedwell, Slippery Elm & Peppermint
Plaintain, Passionflower & Mallow
to name but few-
and no one says a word.

I know you
Salem Sister.

Posted by Midus at 07:34 AM

That There Shed

Made of shingles it was
with moss and lichen covering
the weathered walls
Wind, rain and drifting snow
had taken toll
even the spiders moved away

Next to a lake it stood
it used to store the trappers gear
ready for the Fall and Winter.
Beaver and bear had fine pelts then…
nothing’s as soft as beaver fur
against a human skin.

Old Charley crawled there
one freezing night…
after breaking his leg in a fall.
A cougar tracked him
down the draw and watched
then settled down to wait.

Cougar, it screamed like a soul in hell
so Charlie lit a blaze to
make it feel at home
if it dared to venture nearer.
Then he wrapped himself in the skin
of a bear, he’d left there two weeks before.

In delirium he tossed and turned
and the cougar he slunk closer
until it poked its head in through the door
and saw the fire and smelt a bear.
Charlie, staggered to his one good leg
let out a mighty howl and the cougar fled.

Five days later, two travelling Sioux
passed by the trappers shed
They found old Charlie wrapped in bear
near starved and close to death.
A travois out of saplings they made and
dragged him back to Santa Fe.

The say old houses hold a tale
of all whom they have housed
but that old shed a legend told
of the Bear Man from Sangre de Cristo
a man to ornery to die
old Charlie James the trapper.

His fat wife Sally heard the tale
and laughed until she cried
He didn’t need to shout or roar
she uttered through her tears
the cougar would have died of fright
if it had heard my Charlie snore!

Posted by Midus at 07:24 AM

October 20, 2002

Wayang Kulit

It's not the shadows but the darkness
that unnerves me.
Shadows mean there is a source of light;
walk in the light
avoid the shadows...
One cannot escape the dark.

Posted by Midus at 07:43 AM

October 18, 2002

The Vulnerability of Sleep

We sleep touching.
My foot on your calf
your arm against my back
or maybe legs entwined.
Waking in the early hours
to find your warmth
enfolding me is love.

How primitive we are
to seek this comfort.
Dogs sleep this way -
curled around each other
hard to tell where
each one starts
and each one ends.

Did our ancestors
wrapped in skins around
the dying fires sleep thus?
Protection and body heat
shared in shadowy caves
bonded by the need
for human contact.

The vulnerability of sleep.

Posted by Midus at 07:37 AM

October 11, 2002

Mice and Pablo

Casels at seventy-six was electrifying.
Three Blind Mice became a rhapsody
and at ten years old I was enchanted.
Enchanted and left longing
to find his music in my fingers.
It was the wrong place to look –
music comes from the soul.

Fifty years on and now I
understand the things he said …
Hold the bow as if you would caress-
the cello is a beautiful woman.

A woman I’ve not held for far too long
My failures are mine alone
I failed to make her moan in pleasure .

Today I awoke remembering Pablo –
an old man who shared his gift
with children.
I feel the urge to try again
teasing and tempting the shapely miss
to surrender her music for me
and with a clear pure sound at last she does.

Note follows note
my bow strokes the strings
thighs hold her tight
and I close my eyes
as she tells me of mice
in a low sweet voice
and we play a duet for one.

Posted by Midus at 07:47 PM