Porn’s Poison
For days afterwards On seeing a beautiful woman I’d picture her anus Stretched wineglass wide The garish hangover Of a pointless drug © Ian Lilburne 2010
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Porn
The screen flickered once Then jumped into action In the midst of a scene Of obscene interaction Contorted bodies Connected impossibly With overdubbed cries Of gross animality So this is porn Captivating at first But quickly unreal Shapes slotted together Like Ikea furniture I felt for the woman No mystery or charm Could survive such […]
Foreign Ground
Awkwardly I caught myself staring (again) At the face across the room Instinctively Surveying the crease Of a quiet brow The serene strength Of pensive eyes Aimed always askance from mine Mortified I looked away And forced myself To ignore The compelling draw Of that visage © Ian Lilburne 2010
Massage
The gentle rhythm of Your strong fingers Spiralling softly Over my shoulders And down my spine Easing the pain Making me reel again with an Unexpected expectancy The top of my neck Where the tension lies To the tip of my fingers Where it seems to fly out Your firm hands firmly ease These coils […]
Hats
Funny the Australian attitude toward hats It’s cool for cockies And polis in the country Vying for votes Or city metrosexuals on the weekend At the beach, the shops, a concert Musicians always get away with it But then they would But wear one to work in the city And you cop all kinds of […]
(In the Silence of) Sylvia’s Pines
It was a cool clear djeran day We climbed into Sylvia’s car And headed into the country There was a hidden forest She wanted to show me A private place Special to her An hour’s drive from town It sat just at that point where The city passes into the country One of those lines […]
Bel’s Boat
Remember that day we went sailing In Bel’s boat, out on the bay? We dropped anchor at Mew Stone Then lingered there all day And when we returned Wind at our stern In the dying light of the sun I surely felt That our flesh would melt And we would be as one © […]
Sleep
Lying entwined An awkwardness of arms Back to my chest My wrist crushed In attempted tenderness © Ian Lilburne 2017
Ambling Alone Through Crowds
Not hurrying Fixed on a mission But ambling Not idly But in no rush With purpose But not an urgent one Alert to the passing people Looking for familiar faces But not seeking their company Beyond an acknowledging nod And the weight of their Accumulated presence Content Complete But apart Connected But separate Contained But […]
Poem For Cohen
A bow tie cut in half and a quickly forgotten poem Buried together in a back garden A young boy’s epitaph for a too early dead father An appropriate start for a dark poet of song A sense of longing and loss imbrued with seriousness This father, a tailor, bequeathed him the suits And left […]