Archive | August 2013


Caustic waves collide
crashing, rolling over.
Ferociously blown in
abrasive frothy sprays.

Virulently caressing
in corrosive surges.
Overbearing billows
fracture and crumble.

Weakened and declining
splinters fall. Slowly
plummeting, swallowed
by the frenzied torrent.

I stand silently and watch
the sediments sinking.
My residue disintegrates
And my spirit lays in dust.

©Jacqui Slade

Rowing Boat

Rowing Boat

I wish I had a rowing boat
to help keep all our dreams afloat.
We’d sail all day on waves and crests,
and dream of finding treasure chests.

The sun would beat and we would smile
forgetting all our troubles while,
the shimmering of our reflection
would imitate our affection

We would seek a sunny shore
our hope gripped tightly to the oar.
Feasting on the oceans mood
of peaceful calm and solitude.

A sanctuary of cobalt blue,
I would run away with you.
We could float beyond the sea,
and try to pirate destiny

The stars would sail into the sky,
carried by the oceans cry
of gentle rippled buoyant tide,
sweeping all our fears aside.

Finding each other as we drift,
drowning us so quiet and swift.
Our wish encircled in marine,
tempestuous yet so serene.

©Jacqui Slade

The Wedding Dress

A frail and threadbare

memory draped in

satin, no longer

soft against her skin.

A cobweb of the

past, fabricated.

Intricately laced

with tiny white beads.

He held her tightly.

Sashaying the dance

floor. She sparkled in

love. Her off white dress.

Wrapped in plastic it

hangs in marriage. Still

reminiscent, fading

and everlasting.

©Jacqui Slade

Red Desert

The dust will lie

infinitely blown,

in seasons of

salmon pink.

Polished only by

the sherbet dusts

of time, the rocks

will sit inertia.

Marvel at the arid

backdrop of silence.

Eerily beautiful,

desolately virgin.

At night the crimson

horizons will shine,

with stars carpeting

the red desert sands.

©Jacqui Slade

©Jacqui Slade


Sleep amongst the angels
now that you are free,
from the needless suffering,
the pain and misery.
Things for you were sometimes hard
and always full of strife,
but you fought with dignity
and got on with your life.
We think about you all the time
and love and miss you so,
and although we know you are at peace
it’s hard to let you go.
Thanks for looking after us
through good times and through bad.
You did your best and gave to us
everything you had.
Thanks for all your words of wisdom
and for showing us the way,
but now it’s time to say goodbye
there’s one more thing to say.
Thanks for all the memories
and all the things above.
But thank you Mum most of all,
thank you for your love.

©Jacqui Slade


A bird sang softly in my ear

as the Sunday bells rang near.

its melodic song, a sweetening rhyme,

took my heart far back in time.

It chirped away to my delight,

every note it sung was right.

It was that song you sung to me,

you sing it still in memories.

And as I walked the morning smiled,

the winter chill once cold was mild.

The sun shone down, the songbird flew.

Spiriting away that bird was you.


©Jacqui Slade



Ice Age Aurora

In time you are silent,
frozen in radiance.
An enigma of white
crystallised, you guard with
hostility secrets.
Beautiful and unspoilt,
a volatile rarity,
many men will not brave.
Your violet blue energy,
in darkness a wonder.
Aurora australis,
fossilising an aura
of strange peaceful light.
In green metamorphis,
millions of ages
will pass, as the heavens
do each night above you.
Your mystery will unfold,

©Jacqui Slade


The School Boy

He is the one that nobody chooses,
he can’t kick a ball he always loses.
Not part of the team, he’s last in the race.
They always laugh they don’t like his face.
Maybe he’s spotty, fat or wears glasses.
He is the one that they pick on in classes.
Maybe he’s smarter, autistic or tall,
but mostly there is no reason at all.
They need no excuse to name call and jeer,
kick him or beat him and he lives in fear.
It’s day after day and he finds it hard,
all on his own he walks around the yard.
Wanting to join in wanting to speak,
they have destroyed him he feels like a freak.
And when he goes home he breaks down and cries.
He can’t understand why it’s him they despise.
Tormented he wonders when will it all end.
Wishing so badly that he had a friend.
It’s sad and it’s tragic, it’s wrong, it’s absurd.
That the voices of children are often unheard.
They won’t ask for help they are too scared.
Their pain would be lessened of it could be shared.
Thousands of children have their lives marred,
by bullies who leave them shameful and scarred.
It’s a problem that’s sadly often denied.
But how can you ignore a childs suicide?

©Jacqui Slade


Evening’s lull,
poised in elegance,
sleek and lustrous
in black.

Her diamonds shine
against the satin sky,
a delicate shimmer
in moonlight.

Her tranquil beauty
eclipsed by Night,
wrapping his cloak
around her.

Shadows are cast,
embracing they listen.
To the gentle lullaby
of sleep.

©Jacqui Slade