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Below are poems written by poet Charlotte Jade Puddifoot. Click the Next or Previous links below the poem to navigate between poems. Remember, Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth. Thank you.

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In shot snap seconds, everything changed.
The horror was sudden -
a shatter-shower of bullets
bouncing off rock.
The picnic I'd laid so carefully
blew apart - black olives
tossed into the air like fat flies,
the watermelon's pink guts splattering.

Gun aimed at me.
Gun to his head: bang bang.
Self-felled, he was dead.
Fire ate the car.
The human heart finds hidden resources.
I was on a sand-land trek through nowhere,
following songlines, outside of time,
walking in Dreamtime, dreaming the Dreaming.

Unrelenting sun.
I was floundering in sand-seas,
wading light-dunes, drought-parched,
thirsting for drink-water blue.
Suddenly, you -
flash of painted flesh,
brown, smooth-bark skin,
lizard head loincloth -

black buzz of inkspot flies.
Windsongs fluttered my sarong
like your native flag -
black sky-stripe of night,
red sand, lifeblood of land,
yellow disc of sun.
A pool opened its blue eye - iris of cool.
I stripped, dived into crystal water-glint, dipped

beneath the surface; carefree, soul-freed.
Desert rustled its secret sand-script:
scarlet sting of scorpion,
skin-prickle of termite -
echidna's spiny ball uncurled.
Kookaburra's laughter echoed upwind.
Snake swallowed lizard, quick tongue flick.
Dark spear, spearing quick-jump kangaroo -

knife-skinned, lopped limbs crackle-roasting,
sinew strings looping like the songlines.
Rock-table land, salt pans,
the sun's red plate, bottlebrush-scoured.
Unspoken words of separate worlds
were nothing next to you.
We were wall-worded, word-divided,
but I dreamsang the silence,

hoped you'd understand.
And I thought if I reached
to touch your bark-brown hand
I might penetrate that ancient dreaming land.
But never did.
My words and dreams stayed locked inside.
Days sun-seared, nights star-burned.
You trance-danced the Dreaming far into night.

Distant dingoes' distress drifted on wind...
And I woke to a different dream;
found you branch-dangling from eucalyptus,
gilt-framed in knife-strike light,
tribal feathers trailing.
Strange dreaming man, tree-hanging.
I had to go on alone.
And I did.

Living a plastic life I cannot reconcile,
I stare out at plastic-sheeted swimming pools,
kids' plastic dolls, a boomerang's plastic scythe.
The smoky words of Gasoline Alley
billow from the radio; I tune it in
and tune out my husband's work-wittering.
Look beyond walls, to where you're a silhouette
in my mind's Dreamtime;

traverse language lines, the heart's strange lexicon.
I'm walking the wordless plain again,
the sky a cinnamon simmering stain,
the sun setting, as hurt-heart memories wane.
*That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
the happy highways where I went
and cannot come again.

*A.E. Housman


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  1. Date: 8/28/2015 5:54:00 PM

    WOW!! I've heard of these walkabouts. You really got INTO this, Charlotte. Very mystical! Very dreamlike. I agree with Richard, it could go into Frank's contest. Hopefully he would not mind if it were natives of a different land!! (loved the olives like fat flies. I detest olives and that image suited them perfectly!)
  1. Date: 8/25/2015 7:25:00 AM

    You should title this "Spirit Walk" and enter it into Frank's contest, it would be perfect. I felt like I was sitting in a sweat lodge and my mind was on a journey.
  1. Date: 8/25/2015 12:57:00 AM

    what a journey Charlotte , so much detail , and the linked words are superb , ...a powerhouse write ,..thanks for allowing me to read the longest poem .....ever .... lol...x Ian
  1. Date: 8/25/2015 12:56:00 AM

    ohh my, visceral yet all sub-images come together like an ensemble, charlotte... good use of alliteration!.. huggs
  1. Date: 8/24/2015 7:55:00 PM

    Wow! I wasn't prepared for this journey! I love this story and how you're telling it. Very well done, Charlotte (I really enjoy your hyphenated compound words). Ruben.