Who is Better?

The babe-in-arms

barely registers

others as

not self;

The toddler

does,

but seeks to

crawl, then

walk, then talk

- and then is at school,

finding just how scary the big kids are,

‘till,

years later

the toddler is now one,

and then

is youngest student

at high school,

finding just how scary the big kids are,

‘till,

years later

the student is now one,

and then

is youngest undergrad

at university,

knowing how much more

the graduates know

and chasing that same

degree,

‘till,

years later

the undergrad has that

desired degree,

and is

least experienced

in chosen profession,

‘till,

years later

the grad now has

hoary experience,

and

maybe,

experience of life

in family

or travel

or fields less well travelled.

And ever onwards,

always is seen

the back of those

who have gone before,

and ever onwards,

as time passes,

the new becomes

one of those

who have gone before,

and the question

must be asked,

babe-in-arms,

toddler,

child,

student,

adult,

is any one

better than the other?

Is any one

but a stage

to what comes next?

Copyright © Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

When the Time is Ripe (Short Story)

Far below, the grey waves bashed monotonously against the grey cliffs. Grey skies, grey water, grey mood – it all fitted the skin-clad band, skins grey with wear and grime, standing glumly at the top, looking at each other. Finally one spoke, one unassuming, not at all like a leader, but with an authority in his voice that belied his appearance. 

“Then we are all agreed. It is not yet time – this place is not yet ready?” 

The others nodded, slowly, and reluctantly. 

“Very well. We know what that means: we see out these lives, and join together again some time henceforth, in another time, another life.” 

One young male started weeping; another spoke with anguish in his voice. 

“These people, these lives, they’re so primitive! We didn’t come back to …” 

“I know”, the leader replied. “We came back to bring a better life, and now we’re going to have to share their miserable existences, share their … lack of hygiene” he sniffed with disdain “– of medicine. … We’ll suffer their same risks and fears, and … eventually, we’ll die like them. And then, we’ll be reborn – although we’ll be scattered to the winds, until the time is right – really right, this next time, and we’ll be together again, and ready to help lift this world into a new light.” 

The oldest there, an unkempt, grey-bearded figure, shook his head and spoke:

“It’s such a shame, such a shame. All those thousands of years – tens of thousands - of needless suffering and pain …” 

“True, Alberr, but we cannot override their free will, and the chance of abuse of our teachings is too close to certain. Do you want to make the suffering and pain greater?” 

Alberr shook his head, and their leader nodded. 

“OK. You were all trained on this possibility. Now go! Return to your tribes – we shall not see each other again in this lifetime, and shall not see each other altogether for many thousands of years.” 

Slowly, reluctantly, carrying their sorrows and fears as best they could, the figures left, travelling in different directions, some sharing part of the journey, pondering the years of risk and pain and turmoil to come, none of them to die of old age.

And the world turned on, and they waited ...

(the poems Cro-Magnon and The Idea Whose Time Has Not Yet Come were written as part of me trying out ideas for this story, which I was originally, way back then, going to work up into a fuller length story.The genesis was a very vivid dream I had :) )

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Gaea

Ah, sweet Goddess!
Core and essence of all I see
- form and frame and filling,
and
as I too
am a part
of this world,
you are my
sweetest
innermost
truest
self;
you am I,
and
I am you;
together,
we are life.

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] Predators

When we,
the human race,
were young,
we defended
and even killed
those monsters,
the big things
that tore, and
shredded, and
maimed, and
even killed
our young,
our old,
our weak,
our strong,
our selves.
Now,
we feed and
nurture
them, and even build
special pathways
for them to collect their feast,
pathways that we
call roads.

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Over help

That doorway's done,
closed
for evermore,
the work done,
and an
opportunity
lost to me
for ever.

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] Ill-discipline

Frustrated in their cocoon
unaware of how
flawed
and weak
and, at times,
stupid
they can be,
children:
fighting to be adult,
or such as it seems
to those half formed minds,
adults be,
by being stupid,
rank,
and
ill-disciplined
their lacks
- of discipline,
- of boundaries,
- of respect,
- of duty
show their lack
of life experience,
thereby proving
my point. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Meditation

Meditation
is so much more
than stillness
or peace.
It is a sublimeness
that comes from,
and envelops,
and enriches,
our souls,
and feeds our
questing minds.
Meditation
can be made
from mindfulness,
from losing oneself; 
from stillness,
from movement;
from poetry;
meditation
IS poetry,
poetry of mind
and heart and soul.

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Brick

I've thrown another brick
right through 
another poor mid-brain:
I've not just
disputed, derided or decried
their precious social mores,
their guides as to
what is nice and
how we all should be,
I've dared
that such rules
simply should not be.

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

The Christmas Present

That hacking
drawn out retch,
tis my turn
to clean up
the cat upchuck,
this Christmas morn. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Space

Space
courteous preserve
of safe driving. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] Death by Diffusion

There's many a way to die
- by degrees,
- of reports exaggerated,
- with a smile,
- or grimly,
casting one's life
over those one loves,
drawn down, deeper,
into everlasting
desperation
until,
at the end,
there's not enough life
to discern
a dath, a life. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

The Dearth of Honour

Tis spread a little thin
- seems almost gone
but still holds on:
honour.
Honour
- nobility of soul,
truth of word,
the best of the old,
without the rancour.
Tis rare in this time
of greed and glamour
this time of the little person
made big by shoulder chip.
Tis rare,
but not dead.
Honour suffers dearth
- not death. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

The Committee

It is, indeed,
a hotbed
- intrigue, despair,
... conflict ... hope.
It is
a place of hope
of joining -not
of minds alike,
but of minds
disparate,
lives unlike,
sojourns varied.
A joining
made in hope
that the purposes
are common, and true. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] The Modern Slave

The modern slave?
Name a stereotype
- breadwinner, killed by work,
- homemaker, killed by work unseen
and desperation,
- child, killed by materialism
and greed
and strength of peers. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Devolution: an Ode to Chaos

'tis said by some
those past great lights
in Egypt, Sumer and India
were leavenings to raise
humanity's mass
and, whether
from Earth or Sky,
we've cheated
and copied
and lazied
our way back
to slothful echo
of past illumes.

Is it so?

We're better fed
than any time
since we gave up the plains
for agriculture and a city life
- better fed
with food,
with teaching,
with pollution,
with stress.

Are we lesser,
we who are now shorter,
or are we simply as
we have created
us?

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] The Apprenticeship

It begins at puberty
this apprenticeship
this would be learning
leading to adulthood.
It's missed by most
- caregivers, worn by care,
eroded by parenting,
withered by
the survival strugle,
- the apprentices,
ignorant, unskilled and arrogant
as all who are
untaught
can be.

It begins at puberty:
it ends at empty nest
a lost and missed
opportunity
- for most.


© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] Exhaustion

What do you do
when there's nothing
left.
No hope.
No plans.
No spark.
I'm all gone
- a shad,
not even a shadow
of my former self.
I've given it all
struggled
I tried
I've worked
to support my family
but work
has been beyond horrible
- hellish
a torment of the soul
every day,
every second,
as I am bled dry
trying to meet
all comer's calls ... 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

The welcome call

Oh blessed relief
- 'tis there, rolling nearer
that welcome call
of thunder.
Promise
of rain to come
ease
due reward for
this cursed heat.
Roll on, good Thunor
- bring your pleasant reward.

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

It's simple

'tis a simple thing
a small matter,
I plant a seed
I water
I nurture and love
and weks later
a plant is there
and I can harvets
corn
or potatoes
or as I chose.
'tis a simple thing
tho' seems
miraculous
to those city folk
I share my garden with. 

© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

What Dance is This?

What is this dance?
This music?
Whoe moves - or,
perhaps,
what?

It starts
it stumbles,
a toddler's totters,
through tears
until
each is a grace,
and a grace is each,
yound or old.

What IS this dance?

Who dances there,
alone,
no moving,
a statue swaying
with the Heartbeat
of the Universe.

What is this danc?
Who dares to dance
With the unknown,
Who slows to match
The Heartbeat of the Universe?

© Kayleen White, 2009 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] Ode to Christmas joys, past and present

The voice is gruff
the delivery ...
all bluster.
"Never did me any harm"
as he feeds the kids
more lollies, more drinks
... more sugar.
Two hours
- and God alone knows
how many stubbies -
later,
he'll be snapping
- snarling at them bloody kids
"not like we were!"
delivered to a chorsu line
of rolling eyes,
and lifted brows
as Nana's and Papa's
remember Christmases past.

© Kayleen White, 2009 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

The Ladies of the Loo

They're hessian,
These Ladies of the Loo
- dresses, really,
with scalloped neck lines
and shoulders
matching pitched rofs,
Careless, flimsy guardians
of modesty and decency,
such alien concepts
in this alternative
place and time.

(Written after visiting Confest: if you've been, you'll know what it is about :) )

© Kayleen White, 2009 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

The Leaf

A leaf
in its due time,
will brown
and fall
- no haste,
no rush to be
on the ground
while still
not mature.
Yet
a human child
may wish to be grown
ahead of time,
and a human adult
seek to be
younger than time,
neither seeing nor matching
the simple, elegant, true
harmony
of a leaf,
being here, now.

© Kayleen White, 2009 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Luck?

A glance
- not e'en a look,
a brushing together
- like two streams
(or more!)
within a river
touching, twsiting
tendrils of twine
within that greater flow,
brought highter
by ... chance?
Who knows what
or why.
Perhaps some distant
fall of a sparow
or, fluttering
of an insect's wings
- or something deeper,
led to this chanc encounter,
this perfect meeting
of matching souls.

© Kayleen White, 2009 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

A couple

Timber has a grain,
a timbre,
patterns and hues
that play in the Light.

Life's like that
- it has the timbre,
patterns and hues,
that flutter, dance and sing,
as we come together
and play the dance of life.

Brought together by magic
- the magic of timber,
of creating a work of art
on which to play
the tunes of life,
we celebrate
the timbre,
passions, and hues,
of two souls
sharing life.

© Kayleen White, 2009 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

Hills and Boxes

Hills and Boxes
Rolling hills, some steep, rock strewn, and scrubby,
 others soft, gentle and flowing
- almost like breasts
... nature's breasts,
sustaining and enriching the land.

Rolling hills, scarred here and there
by harsh, square boxes.
Boxes.
Cutting as much across
Nature's flows
as across the land's gentle contours.

Houses.
Places for people to live
People.
Some as gentle and flowing
as this lkand,
Others
as much a blight
on humanity
as their houses are
upon this land.

Rolling hills
some gentle and blest,
some scarred
by humanity's blights.

© Kayleen White, 2008 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit, of course :)

[Content Warning] Regret

The straw
that breaks
the camel's back,
is only notic'd
if the load
on the screaming
beast
is not such
that it extends
down
to the ground
and keeps
the broken back'd
beast,
still screaming
- noiselessly,
'twould seem,
aloft.


© Kayleen White, 2012 I undertake these writings – and the sharing of them – for the sake of my self expression. I am under no particular illusions as to their literary merit, and ask only that any readers do not have any undue expectations. If you consider me wrong, then publish me – with full credit and maybe even payment, of course :) Please also note that I have elected, owing to lack of time, not to have comments.