the essence

the essence of female attraction
first felt in the long hot summer
your presence an ache of unknown origin
long tanned legs stretched out before you
perfect teeth biting into perfect lips
you concentration total, engrossed in knowledge
sun bleached hair, blonde against beach brown
we would laugh and giggle
students now reverting to adolescence
you would lean in close
touching, flirting without knowing
friends experiencing enjoying
tempting
the essence of female attraction

Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann

rattle the cage

rattle the cage and what do we find
we all have a demon who lives in our mind
he waits every day through our sweetness and light
for just the right moment to provoke us to fight
he knows us too well and he is well aware
that given a prod we will seldom fight fair
we return to our basics our first reptile brain
fight or flight instinct, our answer to pain
snapping and snarling, our anger ablaze
we rise to our full height, disdain in our gaze
with him in the saddle we are out of control
we ride our emotions, forgetting our soul

Copyright © 2009 by Eryll Oellermann

intangible

words of woman
honey laced with arsenic
rolling tasty
sweet against the tongue
waiting for the bitter
killing bite

in the dark hours
plotting vengeance
of ten thousand morrows
cruelty waiting
for the shifting sands
of power

time pauses, shattered
whilst the i
who is not me rises
the fury of arrogance
quick beating
at pounding temples

the watcher sighs
my mortal body whispers
remember to breathe
awake we are whole
immersed in the present
intangible, untouchable

Copyright © 2009 by Eryll Oellermann

blowing smoke

i would have to rate you
right up there with fresh baked bread
and english cherries ripe and red
i have forgotten, almost
the feel of my young
lying sleepy, sated, in my arms
but i still remember past time
through the faint blue tinted clouds
of your addictive hazy company
memory wanes with ticking clocks
yet few remain as clear and sharp
as my first time with you
nine i was, the very first
the old farm house, cut into the hill
the garden terraced above, terraced below
me and joe hidden in the long grass
of the top terrace, smoking
keeping a watchful eye on the family
as they enjoyed the cool of the day
on the long red polished verandah


my sister, the wild one
or so my young mind imagined
the idol of my childhood
born to be the rock and roll generation
who slept with a framed photo of elvis
tucked beneath her pillow
she worked in the city, wore three quarter jeans
with stripes and laces
her boyfriend rode a motorbike
she rode with him, she smoked
and so i sneaked about
and stole a cigarette from her pack
and dragged poor joe after me
up to the top terrace
where, hidden in the long grass
i smoked you, my first cigarette
of course i shared you with my little brother
the equally guilty do not run
wide eyed and innocent
with tales to mama


did i enjoy my first smoke?
i remember the dizzy head rush
of the first nicotine hit
that year the russians launched sputnik 2
with a dog on board
the dog never made it back to earth
not as a panting, barking, tail wagging
living animal
she died from overheating and panic
what did they expect?
so, laika the russian dog
died in space and i smoked
my very first cigarette
in 1957

Copyright © 2009 by Eryll Oellermann

rain

as the rain falls
does it know
the river beds
it will tumble over
is there an understanding
of a future, seeping,
slow, through
soil and rock bed
does the rain wait
in anticipation
of the gathering
into the salt infused
great waters

and we ...
do we understand
the journey
as we clutch
the guaranteed pure
deep mountain spring
plastic packaged
rain


Copyright © 2004-2009 by Eryll Oellermann