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Elise Buddle Poem
I glance.... your in a trance
I glare, you stare
and then your not there
Im here.... waiting....
not waiting..
..just being.
Im now here, there and everywhere
..content being
then your here and Im there and your....
waiting..
Impatiently..
Its gone, the moments gone.
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2013
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Elise Buddle Poem
Jo- deeeeeeeeeeee
Lovely! Where have you been, Miss Jo- deeee, you?
on a treadmill to the end of the earth, and you?
A place called yearning...
I was looking for my family and got lost on the way
How is the slow bean brewing? Is it coffee of a Heinz?
It is a running bean and it comes from a long stalk to the end of the earth, Truman Show artifice
Cook it, babe, cook it and rinse it in runners sweat so you can be full of beans
Im beaned out!
I happen not to be beaned out,
beans , beans , beans, beans....
I like having breakfast with you.
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2013
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Elise Buddle Poem
Greased, thoughtful, sad but..
generating beauty from sadness
Saturating the body in the earths finest ales,
Sound waves as variable as the sea,
Breaking at chance intervals of..
unnerving calm.
Almost like cutting through foam,
where pockets of air appear from nowhere,
allowing sounds to reverberate around the gaps provided.
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2013
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Elise Buddle Poem
When does intelligence transgress into another form?
When does intelligence meet insanity?
When do words form insanity?
One can read and relay, read and relay
relay and reconstruct, relay and reconstruct
but underneath all these 'r's' is a line
A constant.
It has no frills, it has no additional edges
Its constant,
thick, consistent and eternal
The simplicity provides space
The simplicity allows breath to be heard
inhale
exhale
inhale
exhale
O2 reaching the core of ones bones
the bone marrow
Sitting in a pub, a pub filled with eccentric characters
The most eccentric of all being those who are classified as intelligent
Intelligent or mad?
The sophistication of language allows for the words to fall
off a cliff into an abyss of miscomprehension within a structural society
Roar red perplexions with fast growing ripples
ensures revealing of the pressure to maintain a grasp on the libraries within.
Cracks start to appear, smiles linger as they no longer understand why their smiling
Stares fixated on....nothing....as they
question what is real and what is fictional whilst in midst of a conversation.
Comical steam appears at the ears in the viewers mind
Twins tormented
touched, tainted, tortured, troubled and
..transgressed from intelligent through to lunacy.
Remove the frills, be specific, fine tune
less is more
Intelligence is through reduction.
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2012
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Elise Buddle Poem
Drink away the blues of blues...
that have been spattered over the canvas every single way.
Today come rain, come art, come relations, come friends,
come everything.
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2013
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Elise Buddle Poem
My Wooden Belly drones... on your hunger
Hunger for the textures that line-
Crease me over
over and over, until 'fit inbetween the cracks,
slock- your sock is tired after runnin',
hangs on the rack,
the rack that has a crack,
the rack that some lack...
like men.
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2013
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Elise Buddle Poem
Maybe I just needed a hand
A hand to show there is someone
Someone who genuinely cares
Cares that I lack trust
Cares that I lack faith
In me ... sometimes
Maybe I just needed a patient hand
A none judgemental hand
An open hand
That didn’t hold pent up tension
Cramping with every tentative grasp
Maybe in the face of uncertainty
That was the only hand I needed
A strong hand
To lead me through a fragile state
To my old handstand
That didn’t require any physicality
- my own mental handstand-
Copyright © Elise Buddle | Year Posted 2018
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