Archive | November 2014

The Artisans

I was challenged to write poem inspired by this image –
Poussin In Hell (1999) by Joel-Peter Watkins


This is my poem – The Artisans.

Swathed in decadence the
artisans masquerade.
Virtuous mannequins
stripping inhibitions.

Architects of their own
hysteria. Unmasked
their degenerate hearts
are bared in sins of flesh.

Haughty and risqué at
their revulsion they preen
in rebellion. Souls
darkened the pious cry.

So gratified by the
deviance they portray,
they chariot their scorn
and ride with the devil.

The Modern World

The Modern World

What has become of human kind?
Intelligent but somehow blind!
Our need for things in vanity
blinds us to the profanity.
The modern world has lost its mind.

We live in screens no time to find,
in apathy we are confined.
Turn our backs on humanity.
Without a care.

Stealing the earth man is unkind,
in extinction we are resigned.
Despairing its inanity,
we drown in its insanity.
In selfish lives we’re unrefined.
Without a care.

©Jacqui Slade

Dance with trees

Luscious and exuberant
creepers coil. Their tapestry
interweaving, they trail through
thickets and foliate floors.

The sages stand. Statuesque
enchanted and sapient.
Their knotted torsos shelter
under emerald canopies.

Incandescent in aura.
Enlightened they shimmer
radiant in life. Their truths
covert and deep are seeded.

At harmony we saunter
in dalliance, spellbound and
unfettered. Spirited we
forsake fear and dance with trees.

©Jacqui Slade


Winter shivers in winds of death,
a dismal whine in every breathe.
Stealing colour lights fade away,
to cloak all in its morbid grey.

Its sorrow falls in tears of white,
pirouetting forlorn in flight.
Exquisite in their gossamer,
in wisps they drop, their sprinkles sear.

It’s touch a frosty biting sting,
that glaciates in recoiling
warmth. Its hold severe penetrates,
as one year dies a new one waits.

Its soul in gales and howling cries
in natures slow sombre demise.
Winter will sit in storms to grieve
and in the spring get up and leave.

©Jacqui Slade


A wish to make a moment
a reminiscent weave. To
wear forever in my heart,
and then you will never leave.

Our chain is so fragmented
we are toughened by the chinks.
As diamonds sparkle brightly,
our true love reforms the links.

Each minute spent together
is a golden bead to thread.
Our gems are recreated
and embellished in our heads.

Threading all our memories
on a melancholy braid.
Bittersweet but beautiful,
the most precious thing we made.

In heart we are in pendant,
our souls evermore entwined.
As we learn to treasure time
the most cherished is defined.

A keepsake of reminders,
its exquisite charms are grasped.
Our lockets will remind us
of the priceless jewels we clasp.

©Jacqui Slade


Afterwards – blasted, he finds her,
distorted and slumped, half hanging out of the bath.
Her mascara smudged and her glazed pupils clinging to the ceiling.
She lies there. dressed up in delusion,
they kid themselves they’ve got it all.
Every time she slips further, so does he, and it frightens him
because deep down he knows, which way they are going
as she falls further and he lovingly feeds their desperation.
Hysterical in her need and him besotted in his, it drives him insane.
She smiles at him, he sits on the toilet making a joint,
trying to figure a way out of this crazy kaleidoscope of extremes.
sometimes it feels like they are lost somewhere
between lunacy and chaos and he slams the door
In his mind it’s the only way that he can cope with the intensity of their
needs, at least that is what he tells himself, in his messed up logic.
Opulent in her, she is his blood, his breath and his soul.
Her quirky little ways is all that he wakes up for.
In love with her risqué don’t give a shit moods, they’re in a world of their own..
So that was their life, a make believe heaven, on the verge of a Temazepan dream. Sleep walking through life in a junkie’s Utopia fluctuating
on a high speed roller coaster ride to a variable slow motion nightmare.
He doesn’t want to wake up and confront the panic and dread growing inside him,
but his x rated anguish and confusion claws its way through his skin.
He’s yelling at the top of his voice.
Screaming her name, knowing it’s in vain.
Zoe wilts in the bath, smiling at him,
her eyes still stuck to the ceiling.

©Jacqui Slade


Spiralling through dreams hurricanes of mind,
searching for something that you cannot find.
In wistful tornadoes a wish is blown
over the rainbow, you find yourself thrown.
Living in colour avenging the grey,
in wonder wayfarer finding your way
through perils and sadness your journey starts,
hoping you’ll find the home of your heart.

With each step you take your shoes glitter red,
each sparkle a mirror of light in your head.
Your pace small in stature but huge in stride,
which way you go is for you to decide.
Melodramatic your faith in your charm,
conscious will guide you protect you from harm.
Tempted by fields of malevolent guise,
perfumed to trick but awakened you’re wise.

Your path is golden tenacious your soul,
to battle your demons you have control.
In cinematic musical aplomb
you start to realise how far you have come.
Resolute not to stray in your motion,
you find there is no magic or potion.
The magician you seek lives in your thoughts,
you have the answers to all that you sought.

Prowess unleashes the lion and you
find courage and roar pride in your truth.
Your head wasn’t filled with bales of straw,
Intelligent wise of that you are sure.
Your heart not leaden with grief but with love,
you come through stronger the journey’s been rough.
The home of your heart is where your love lies,
no grasses greener and no bluest skies.

©Jacqui Slade

All Hallows’ Eve

Skeletal tree ethereal and wisp,
Rustling blood red leaves, delicate and crisp.
Winter approaches a carpet you grieve,
beckoning the fall of All Hallows’ Eve.

Sombre and mournful raven velvet night.
The bewitching stars celestial light,
resurrects spirits all lost souls will rise,
withering fears, celebrating demise.

As the departed in wish breathe again,
their chords whispering a dirge of Samhain.
Ghoulish carousals and ritual fires,
feasting divination psychic desires.

Conjuring showers of faeries to trust,
to ward off all evil with magic dust.
Charms for safe keeping and good to empower,
undoing curses of the witching hour.

So as the leaves drop winds howl as they die,
reincarnated in earth they give life.
Ghosts of all seasons revered for an eve,
cast shadows of winter October leaves.

©Jacqui Slade