...is probably not a destination for rebocs, rap, baseball caps
for I see a homespun wholesome woman
wearing a cabbage-patch straw-hat
decorated with a blush-pink wild-bush-rose
complimenting a flower-print-dress
flowing down to leather-brown sandals
unpretentious white-ribbed bobby-sox
in transit, another airport lounge
with its' collection of random humanity
mostly never to meet again
there's a peaches'n cream vision pink-suited shining
tailored to perfection smelling of magnolias
a smouldering Tennesee Williams'
southern woman
and a cowboy with a baby face, I think to myself
"must be why they're called bubbas"
over there I'm transfixed by a stern-faced
solemn no-nonsense woman
posture straight as a ram rod
wearing a russet-suede bolero jacket
long fringes elegantly swing from elbow to wrist
low collage, fine silk blouse, & the merest suggestion
of a frill at the beginning of her understated breasts
trousers tailored, contour her slim athletic frame
finished off, with the finest cuban-heeled
knee-high leather boots ever seen -
surely an equestrian.
Pamela Sidney 1995
Connecticut Guy
“hi honey” the voice said
who are you calling ?
my wife”
you have the wrong number
“sorry”
bye
(ring ring)
“hi honey”
you still have the wrong number
“what is your number ?”
I don't know...I don't live here...
it's Thom's place...where are you calling from ?
“Connecticut......you're english !”
weeell.........Australian
“my daughter went there”
I'm sorry you've called the wrong number again...bye
(ring ring)
I let the answering machine take the call
wait for the flashing red light
listen to playback
he sounded a little sad..... sighed into the phone
“aaah, guess I'll get back to you - someday”
Pamela Sidney 2.4.94
The lightening played and danced
over the lake
like a witch casting spells
it threw white light all about
like a snow storm in winter
the rain settled in, soft pervading
covering surfaces like a shining mirror
the trees, silent and still
as if watching
presiding over all this drama
don't speak of omens
they have no need, they know
I wait for sunrise for the golden orb
that sheds a different light
wait for constancy of daylight
after the erratic
white flashing electric night
in the half light before dawn
trees burgeon with white blossoms
become a valley of snow
amid the evergreens
birds have taken over
the hushed silence
they too herald anticipate
suns appearance
light has suddenly come
still no sun
colour is bleeding
into the landscape
green trees cloudy dark sky
and the lake
still grey flat and silent
we all wait
the birds, the trees, and me
for the great gold light
the dawn of day
the lightening now lost its power
no more conductor of the dark night
plays a secondary role
perhaps even a servant
usher to the great one
who needs no name
yet has been put upon by humanity
with a thousand psuedynoms
will she fail to appear
like a prima donna
unsure of herself ?
Pamela Sidney 2.5.94
