Sunday 18 June 2023

Five Poems by Jay Maria Simpson

 



Dancing on the Frozen Stars


She searched behind the spinning starlight

looking for her lost love

she prayed under the apple trees

they remembered the silence after she vanished

and crawled around the overgrown maze

that was sinking into the mud and grime

their frenzied panic searched the undergrowth

like madmen chasing the end of time

 

They hunted for her footsteps

Found the satin from her torn skirt

 

I crept away when I saw her settled

laying in her lover’s arms

she turned away from the frenzied rescuers

after turning them into giant frogs

with the powers that the fairy gave her

while they danced on the frozen stars

 

she touched her lover with her feathery veil

draped it over his back and arse

his shoulders snuggled into her satin

which lay beneath his growing pain

that caused his back to arch and fall

to the rhythm of a long gone song

that called her towards his hope his heart

and the ecstasy when he entered her

like the full moon rising toward a perfect sky



The Loneliness Factory


The night was dull dark gloomy. She sat alone in her room scratching at her neck. The more blood under her fingernails, the more translucent she felt. She worried about nothing. Everything. She lay perfectly still searching her mind for what went wrong. Searching her mind. Looking at her flaws, her failures, her regrets, the lonely piano, her violin, her music stand where the Chagall print rested against her manuscript. She looked around her almost empty sterile room feeling sick not knowing what to do next. Wondering where he was. Wondering if he would come back, knowing he would not. The room was filled with horrors old memories lost moments forgotten treasures and broken glass. She was alone cold empty silent. There were no calls no messages not a sound in the room except for her pounding thoughts and an erratic frightened heartbeat.


She left the door ajar

Just in case he might turn up

after his rehearsal after the delayed flight

after the bullshit excuses

she left the door open that night

and the nights before

the snow watched her voyeuristically

through the open window

one eyebrow raised as if to suggest some insight

the driving sleet that rested across her body

burnt into her

provided the warmth

and the soundscape to

her endless sleepless reveries

the empty gin bottles rolled around

like lovers bumping into each other

and not by chance

the traffic in the distance offered no hope

of his imminent arrival

she lay on the floor petrified

with cold

with fear

her tiny body grappled with her existence

it was no longer strong taut but soft malleable

vulnerable

usable

she saw a beautiful solemnity encased

in her desperate scene

of futility harm loneliness

she calmly quietly smiled and accepted her fate



The Dancer


There was a strange lingering in her gait

A lingering longing to revisit a scene

a pulse beating out of time

a violin breaking string after string

the piano preferring the pentatonic

the singer sobbing in the opera stalls

 

The dancer puts her hands on her hips

then raises her arms to begin the show

signals the orchestra with the wink of an eye

spreads her tutu adjusts her hair

spins around the auditorium

knocking over phials filled with lilies

refreshes the bright red of her lips

her pulse stirring excited for the thrill

she smiles a deadly recalcitrant smirk

takes hold of the jester’s trusty baton

strips down to her bare bones

hoping to excite the exuberant crowd

before the anniversary party begins



Three Ways


Three women emerge from a sleepy night

drowning in the cobwebs of leftover dreams

caffeine soon to be shared from a bowl

sugary treats pastries being the sole

reason to stretch their bodies in morning ritual

breaking free of constraint with unseemly acts

they walk to the river wrapped in chiffon and lace

no longer avoiding the whispering eyes

they drift in and out of feathery leaves

falling slowly from autumnal trees

the wanton river peaks in early morn

they drown their faces in its liquid silk

feel the force between their legs

the perfect three way

body

mind

poetry



Train Tracks Wisdom and Bullshit


There was a line we crossed over that night

we should’ve regretted it but we didn’t

we wore the changes to our lives

lay in the pouring rain again

enjoyed the stench of muddy soil

the wisdom came much later

took away our power to reason

to fly kites on windy nights

to venture into the thorny bush

sliding recklessly through the mire

bullshit paved the way for us

we travelled in hot air balloons

sang songs in Irish pubs

snuggled the hangover

beneath the sheets





Jay Maria Simpson was born in Sydney, Australia. She worked as an English, Drama and Music Teacher for many years in schools, TAFE and the University of Newcastle. Jay has been a writer all her life. She moved to Perth, Western Australia in 2011 following a personal tragedy. It was then that her poetry exploded.

In her poetry she explores reality, change, sorrow, sex, anger, death, love, escape and memory. Jay pushes the boundaries in her writing. She often writes from a dangerous, fearful place where you will find raw honesty. Her poems might also dance in a happy sexual fairy garden. There is no pretension.

She is recently published in ‘Voices from the Fire’ Anthology Vol 9, Dumpster Fire Press, The Writer’s Club, Horror Sleaze Trash, Fevers of the Mind Showcase, ‘Ukraine: The Night and the Fire’ Anthology and ‘Bedroom Anatomy Lessons’ Anthology, Dumpster Fire Press.

Her new manuscript, a book length anthology is being reworked with new poems, themes and ideas. She is also putting together a chapbook of selected poems dedicated to her daughter, Kate.

Jay loves poetry, art, music, satire and black comedy. She also loves recording and reading poetry publicly.

She is the Creative Director and Author at ‘Living Dangerously’.

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