lei fraser

imagine.create.become

  • in passing, no more
    the sun across the trees
    or the breeze through the open window
    no more
    as night stretches to the corners
    and the burning sun finally sleeping
    brings some relief
    no more the words that dress the fingers,
    the pages, the books, the painting that lies
    behind the eyes, unpainted
    unthought of
    now, even the images are not luring
    drawing against a virgin canvas
    demanding to be seen
    instead, just passing
    like a child on a bicycle
    rolling oblivious passed
    the smart fence-lined yards
    with small dogs barking salutes
    and running to the ends of their ropes
    before they are reminded suddenly
    that life has limits
    passed the overgrown gully and low willows
    to the pond
    with only a thought to sit idly by water’s edge
    until the fish bite at least once
    in passing, no more
    the wish for elsewhere, or anywhere
    or nowhere
    just passing
    through
    like the sun on its way to
    beginning again

    ~

    06.26.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • It is as though the end strangles me
    When I sit here, hands poised on the desk,
    Trying, in vain, to complete one sentence…
    I am not able to manage to do it
    Not when the leaves on the tree outside,
    Framed asymmetrically by the window and
    Struggling to lift up from the branch
    Cannot move…
    Not even the faint whisper of a breeze can aid them
    Of course the idea,
    a seed left for a starving mind to devour
    Could not be left on the screen
    or alone on the rim of my thoughts
    not when something longs to be expressed
    (however illusive and meandering)
    and walking through the thick velvety curtains
    of another summer afternoon
    fails to deter me from the obvious
    let the page fall to white
    incomplete

    ~

    26.06.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • under the pass
    where the river bends
    to the north
    I stand to think
    before long sitting on
    the jagged shore
    willows hang low
    where at dusk
    fireflies
    dance in the grass
    finally free in the
    long, cool shadows
    a moment’s grace
    at the end of
    the heavy heat of
    another summer day
    Oh Moon,
    your silver face
    bent close to see,
    reflected in the tiny waves
    and ripples below
    even the stone,
    firmly resting in the riverbed
    bows to the flowing water
    carrying you, the light
    and the night with it
    here,
    this is where
    I breathe
    like leaves
    widespread
    to catch the dew

    ~

    26.06.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • Out beyond the sea –
    This is where I look
    When I am standing on the shore
    But if I was out there where would I look?
    If I sat, in perfect balance with each wave
    Like a petal fallen from the stem
    Just after the time of blooming
    Rocked in those unseen arms
    Cradled unwittingly
    Where would I look
    Which direction?
    To the sky who’s broad face
    Would smile endlessly down over me
    Or out to the tips of my fingers
    Extended in every direction
    With only ocean in sight
    Or down
    Down past my own reflection
    Looming deep to where the fish
    And other creatures of the sea
    Live, lurk and wait
    What is plain of course leaves me breathless
    While the other
    The other, in its unknown splendor
    Leaves me shivering
    But doesn’t stop me from looking
    Watching, feeling, wondering
    What lays below beyond the reach
    Of the sea

    ~

    22.05.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • I know who you are
    And then don’t because
    I choose to wander with my eyes
    Half closed and stupid
    And not my heart
    You – it’s like looking around a corner
    Using the glass shattered on the ground
    In front of my next step
    To show your reflection before
    I make the turn
    Oh – you are not as elusive as
    I’d like you to be
    Dressed in the clothes
    That I thought I had discarded
    Not wanted
    Even forgotten
    I would set each of you
    So fancy in your pants and
    Mocking faces
    Along the edge like
    Chess pieces ready to be toppled
    Except I lack the cleverness
    To win the contest
    I would just be the indignant child
    Sweeping the pieces off
    With my forearm and fist
    Ah you – it is comfort that I seek
    In looking at you like you are
    A mirror of myself
    Searching in the wrinkled corners
    Of your eyes, the hollowness of
    Your smile – looking for something
    That has long since eluded me
    Except for in dreams or other such
    Delusions
    It doesn’t matter now
    You can tottle off and leave me here
    To sort it out
    The sun, the moon, each on its own path
    And I am just the witness
    To it all – including you
    Yes – it’s not a good ending for
    A poem that never ends with you
    I know

    ~

    22.05.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • Outside the window
    As night creeps through the branches
    And the sky blushes as it would
    When the sun rises in the morning
    Blushes caught, unexpectedly naked
    And longing for what has passed
    What has yet to come
    This is when I find myself wishing
    Like a fool
    For what is gone or never was
    Never could be or always was
    But I was too stupid to notice
    I can hear the doves, sleepy in their cooing
    Calling out to each other
    Or just calling out – who knows really which
    Cars roll by after a long work day
    And the smell of the heat from the sun
    Still lingering in the air
    The love
    That I miss being
    Is stretched out and laying
    Across the shadows in the yard

    ~

    22.05.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • tonight
    tomorrow is another day
    for other thoughts
    as always
    tonight
    the past and other
    worlds collide
    the angel wings
    and fallen ones
    like unfinished poetry
    float through
    the night, the ether
    confusion is
    starkly contrasted by
    the clear sky
    and full moon
    questions dot the horizon
    like stars just now seen
    what, if now you see
    who I am
    and have always been
    is not enough
    for you to believe?
    what if it is never going to
    be enough?
    and this I know already…
    the night sky holds
    little comfort
    that instead
    like blooms across my table
    open in the lamp light
    the love light
    my light
    so that, yes, finally
    I see.

    ~

    02.05.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • finally sun
    reflected
    in the sharp corners
    and hard surfaces
    flung out
    across the ground
    walking barefoot
    my choice
    I step here
    step there
    cut my foot on
    hidden dangers
    walk further
    in the sunshine
    until the sun dips down
    behind the rows
    of houses and
    the silhouettes
    of still bare trees
    waiting for buds and
    blossoms to open
    finally sun
    and its shadows
    to follow along
    the long empty streets

    ~

    18.04.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • these days that pass
    like the brush of a wing
    laughter that rushes in
    on the long arms of the wind
    these days that propel me
    forward, onward, upward
    lift me and hold me high
    it is the stones that ground me
    in the somber moments
    remind me of the depth
    of soil of soul
    always within my grasp
    tips of fingers down
    and then to fly
    to fly

    ~

    17.04.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • shadows and sunlight
    dress the yard and
    remind me of the rest
    the leaves that cover
    the flowers slowly
    moving upward
    protection against
    the last remnants of winter
    birds, squatting and restless
    on the naked branches
    wind flustered and hungry
    from the long return
    it is dangerous
    to breathe
    to write
    to live
    when the world
    is tilted at an angle
    what slips off?
    what goes unnoticed?
    what leaves before
    goodbye touches
    the lips?
    dangerous but
    not impossible
    not when the shock
    of yellow crocus
    erupts through
    and the buds explode
    on the vine
    long enough
    to remind
    the world
    in its tilting way
    there is more
    to come

    ~

    13.04.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson

  • There are different versions of this children’s song. I have vivid memories as a very young child, trying to do the actions of this song with my friends at school. I never understood at that time what a hokey or a pokey was but I thought it was great fun to jump in and out of the circle and shake around. Lately, I have been thinking about the song – that time of my life as a child and the deeper meaning that I have come to understand about both.

    Sometimes, it takes awhile to get involved in life – to fully grasp what it is that you want/ need to do in life. To be perfectly honest, I have never been to the point where I could say, ah! – this is it. It is all I need, and that is for a few reasons. One reason is, that I am fickle and easily distracted. I have moved from one thing to another, relatively easily distracted, exploring, experiencing and generally allowing myself to get more and more lost in the sheer volume of things to do. The other reason is, I have never quite been at peace or comfortable with myself. This is splinters off into other reasons, explanations, none of which I can write about here (because I don’t choose to, and doesn’t have a direct impact on what the point is of this) – but the bottom line is that I have never been comfortable with who I am, not deep down. This isn’t a good or bad thing, it is just how it goes, as I have been getting to know myself better, understand where I am coming from as a person etc. It is the root cause of my moving from one thing to another like a drunken butterfly, erratically flying from flower to flower in an endless field. Of course, the other big reason for not having sorted out what it was – is that this process is fluid and I am discovering that more and more, there is no true end or beginning to these things that I am jumping into or out of… it is constantly moving, turning and dancing around like the children in this song, and that is a really beautiful thing. Whether or not I manage to put only a hand in something, or my head, or my foot, in the end, my whole self goes into each project and I get shaken about. The shaking is the best part, because I start to thinking in ways that I didn’t before, act in ways I didn’t before, and learn in ways I didn’t before.

    I think the hokey pokey might just be what it is all about….

    ~

    la

    You put your left foot in,
    You take your left foot out
    Your put your left foot in
    And you shake it all about
    You do the hokey pokey
    And turn yourself around
    That’s what it’s all about.
    You put your right foot in
    You take your right foot out
    You put your right foot in
    And you shake it all about
    You do the hokey pokey
    And you turn yourself around
    That’s what it’s all about
    You put your left hand in
    You take your left hand out
    You put your left hand in
    And you shake it all about
    You do the hokey pokey
    And turn yourself around
    That’s what it’s all about.
    You put your right hand in
    You take your right hand out
    You put your right hand in
    And you shake it all about
    You do the hokey pokey
    And you turn yourself around
    That’s what it’s all about
    You put your head in
    You take your head out
    Your put your head in
    And you shake it all about
    You do the hokey pokey
    And you turn yourself around
    That’s what it’s all about
    You put your whole self in
    You take your whole self out
    You put your whole self in
    And you shake it all about
    You do the hokey pokey
    And you turn yourself around
    That’s what it’s all about

  • quiet stillness
    wrapped unwrapped
    not meant for comfort
    not tonight
    but for opportunity
    to hear
    to listen
    and to see
    the difference in where
    the two meet

    and where
    they meet
    where do they meet?
    there is no comfort
    not there or here
    mind responsible again for
    leaving the rest awake
    wandering
    at times
    but then focused
    clear

    what is done is done
    what must be done
    will be

    life falls
    through the water
    like sand
    falling to the ocean floor
    and laying itself out
    in layered piles
    clumps that slump
    against each other
    waiting for the years
    to harden them into
    something beautiful

    but now
    maliable and shifting
    with the waves and currents
    no neat pieces
    falling together
    none
    and that
    that is ok.

    a night without
    and not knowing
    what is missing
    ~
    21.03.07
    Leigh-Anne Tyson