Lisa Reily – Foxglove Journal

always yours – Lisa Reily

after Renoir’s Dance in the Country

spring days

under the chestnut tree

I remember well,

cups of tea and cake

chocolate mousse

raclette with sweet wine,

and you.

across the table

you in your handsome blue suit,

I waited for your eyes

as snails drowned in garlic butter

and music played.

my dress to catch your glance,

I hoped its pretty flowers

would bring you to me;

but the music caught me another,

and I was swept away.

hot breath in my ear, silky words of love,

his hat to the floor as

we danced,

pressed against one another,

my gloved hands in his,

while all the while,

it was you that I wanted;

my smile

was always yours.

Lisa Reily is a former literacy consultant, dance director and teacher from Australia. Her poetry has been published in several journals, such as Amaryllis, London Grip, The High Window, Panoplyzine, Channel Magazine, The Fenland Reed, as well as Foxglove Journal. You can find out more at lisareily.wordpress.com.

January 26, 2021 by foxglovejournal Categories: Poetry, UncategorizedTags: art, Australia, breath, creative, creativity, dress, eyes, food, glance, Lisa Reily, love, memory, music, nature, painting, poem, Poetry, Renoir, senses, smile, spring, words, writing 1 Comment

dog love – Lisa Reily

when, after ten years, the two of us were no longer alone

and a new man entered my life, took your seat

in the front of my car, you gnawed a seatbelt to shreds

in the backseat, freely expressing your disgust.

he and I thought you were sick, but it was love sickness,

and loyalty.

slowly, you allowed him to play with you,

granted him a ball, sometimes one of your soft toys;

you tolerated his presence at our table, if only for morsels,

traded seats without a whimper,

wagged your tail, if only briefly, upon his arrival at our door,

until one day, we both learned to trust him.

December 28, 2020 by foxglovejournal Categories: Poetry, UncategorizedTags: adapting, animals, arrival, Australia, change, creative, creativity, dog, door, introduction, learning, life, Lisa Reily, love, loyalty, pet, play, poem, Poetry, presence, relationship, trust, writing 2 Comments

remember – Lisa Reily

our dog came first in our relationship,

our first child, our only child,

our Henry.

remember his tongue-wagging runs on the beach,

our cabin amid the paperbarks,

ocean mist coming through our window?

remember the soft call of the butcherbirds,

the laugh of the kookaburras

the only sound to wake us?

remember cups of Earl Grey tea on our balcony

while Henry slept in his basket;

the simple pleasure of our walks on the sand,

Henry running ahead on the empty beach,

ears wagging, sand stuck to his nose;

holding hands over rocks, limpets, starfish

and crashing waves that we thought would sweep him away,

climbing to the tops of cliffs, losing our way back down?

remember the mist that went on forever, covered everything,

took with it the cliff, the long stretch of beach,

Split Solitary Island;

remember the ashes we scattered on the sand,

the beach that took them, that took

the love of our lives,

ashes forever to float to the island;

our first child, our only child,

our Henry.

Lisa Reily is a former literacy consultant, dance director and teacher from Australia. Her poetry and stories have been published in several journals, such as Panoply, Amaryllis, Riggwelter, River Teeth Journal (Beautiful Things), and Magma. Lisa is currently a full-time budget traveller. You can find her at lisareily.wordpress.com.

November 22, 2018 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: ashes, Australia, beach, birds, creative, creativity, death, dog, life, Lisa Reily, loss, love, memory, mist, nature, pleasure, poem, Poetry, relationship, sand, sound, waves, writing 1 Comment

Jacks – Lisa Reily

Scratched colours in the palm of your hand,

after many years, skilled in the art of hand flipping;

a jack rolls on the ground, another flung into the air

and caught once again; all five pieces collected

in one triumphant sweep of the hand; jacks

which long ago, were the bones of animals,

the knuckles of an unsuspecting beast.

Lisa Reily is a former literacy consultant, dance director and teacher from Australia. She is now a budget traveller with two bags, one laptop and no particular home. You can find out more about Lisa at lisareily.wordpress.com.

December 12, 2017December 12, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: air, animals, beast, body, bones, colours, creative, creativity, elements, flip, ground, hand, jacks, Lisa Reily, movement, poem, Poetry, roll, sweep, time, triumph, writing, years 1 Comment

Missing You – Lisa Reily

Raspberry and mango bougainvilleas, the tang of guava,

an orange and silver carp on a Balinese path, breathing

its last breath of hope, for someone to save it.

Pomegranate seeds popped into your mouth

dribble down your cheek to stain your new white pants;

your snow-teeth bite into watermelon, crumbling

from its watery pink into water itself.

My love for you is a crisp yellow pineapple, pale seaweed

dabbled in sunlight, the musky pink of my fingernails;

blue-grey dolphins, white baby seal love, the emerald sun

and the cool green sky; a tortoise underwater, an ache of forever,

a smiling purple dog; a yearning unresolved.

November 24, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: ache, Australia, body, breath, colours, creative, creativity, fauna, food, fruit, hope, humanity, Lisa Reily, love, nature, poem, Poetry, senses, sunlight, travel, water, writing, yearning 2 Comments

Balinese Cremation – Lisa Reily

In the searing heat and smoke we step back,

not expecting death to find us

on the way home from our fruit smoothie;

the exotic thrill of guava still on our tongues.

November 12, 2017November 12, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: Australia, back, creative, creativity, death, exotic, fruit, guava, heat, home, journey, Lisa Reily, poem, Poetry, senses, shock, smoke, step, surprise, thrill, tongues, way, writing Leave a comment