In these premenstrual moments touch and go stomach bloated, dry throated, foggy hazed, half-crazed Depressed, undressed, A wish to be caressed By some dark-eyed star of the silver screen, I try to grasp some reality, To keep the insanity well locked away But as time passed, empty glasses Dirty dishes, forgotten wishes Eyeliner creeps into the wrinkled deeps Twenty four years Confusion and fears Put down the pen And try once again To overlook these premenstrual moments
D.Munday - NSW
When I started leaf collecting it was just one every time I took the dog for a walk (which was every morning). I’d allow myself only one beautiful leaf per walk. If I saw a second leaf on the track, I’d make myself choose which leaf I preferred and drop the other one back on the track. I’d bring the leaf home and blue-tac it to my bedroom wall like some type of marker for how my new healthier life was tracking.
As the days and weeks passed, it became an enjoyable morning ritual and I seemed to notice more and more beautiful leaves on my walks. There were some I loved for their colour, some for the unique shape, and some for the way they’d eroded, faded or been stained by the weather. It seemed a shame that nobody would ever appreciate their beauty once they’d fallen to the ground.
By the six-month mark, I had a wall covered in leaves, (mostly gum leaves) in a beautiful sun pattern. When there was no more space on the wall, I started filling a box. No longer counting my walks with leaves, I gave myself permission to pick as many leaves as I wanted. It seemed there were more and more leaves of desire on the path and more and more walls to cover.
It’s four years on and I still collect the occasional gum leaf and have a drawer full ready to go. However, I recently moved to the beach and the tide offers up as many wonderful pre-loved objects as the trees, all waiting for a second chance at life.