Leanne Margaret

Apartment people sitcoms never promised or even hinted at the increasing levels of human intimacy that would enter my life upon moving into my funky new apartment.   Bunches of Friends dining and socialising are not what I refer to here.   It seemed like a little slice of modern heaven with a dishwasher, until upstairs moved in. Ideas of urban heaven came crashing in like bombs from the sky.   No, I hadn’t moved to a war zone, I refer now to the morning dump of my upstairs neighbours.     Seriously?   No more privacy, even in the loo?   There was no episode of Friends to prepare me for this. I was prepared for passing strangers in the hallway, for sharing driveways and footpaths, even midnight parties and loud music, but the pipes behind my bedroom wall resound the rumblings of upstairs plumbing with a rush of just too much information. Perhaps I shouldn’t’ write about such things as toilet noises, but if it’s socially acceptable to build homes projecting the echo

Shaking ground Changing towns I am southward bound Pandoras hopes found I reflect astound Seen within a circle round Purpose spirals stars unwound Re weaving finer fortunes clouds To rain the past a shroud Settling thunders loud Articulated heart reSounds.  -Leanne Margaret [C] 2014

Unfold Soul's growth Refining colour's rose Hail, Garden's Nose. Though thorny and pricked Against honeyed bee tricks This makes roses grow most thick! Fruiting from black soils Blooming wormy spoils Refined anointing oils. Rosy Lotus hues From mud's watery blues Risen being lights imbued Bridging Lunar Sunshine's Truth Startling, even as it soothes. - Leanne Margaret [C] 2013

Yin and Yang dividing things, interweaved, divining strings- of thinking, senses, inked. Bit of black, bit of white dualities apparent fight- freeing fortunes wings. Hemispheres, losers's tears post traumatic fears- shrieking soured songs they sing. Child born and child made if born in love, then by fear stayed- choked by Karma's ring. Yet colours deep, exhale the weave days contrasts, define the eve- sweet with honey's stings. Tear not apart the silk to flags condemn with fire, waste to rags- give each a patch, to thread, to link. Compete not there, for earthly spoils ravaged from her un-soothed soils- weave Earth's quilt with All in Mind and only All can win! - Leanne Margaret (C) 2014