Home

marriage counselling
cushions on one side
of the sofa

writer’s cabin
letting in
the sun

weekender
blackberry vines
mend the picket fence

where the blue
begins and ends…
seagull wings

projectile
the morning paper
in the pond again

souvenir tea-towel
adding a gum leaf
to the billy

monsoon breeze
the scent of pakoras
from ma’s kitchen

autumn wind –
still in the same place
dad’s old chair

curfew
the sky wide open
for the birds

grass trees
a silent audience
in the amphitheatre

the popularity
of primary colours —
crimson rosellas

security question
my first pet Stinky
lives on

fish on my plate
I avoid eye contact
with the cat

Reflection
in the window
a young bird begs

sign of the times
on the church gate
book sale this way

face down
on the haystack . . .
a scarecrow

summer noon . . .
the coconut vendor sleeps
under his cart

new yams roasting—
the rising heat
of old opinions

headland
wrapped in mist
and whalesong

hotel bible
sooner or later
time to check out

last hug—
the goodbye
before tears

marching
the weight of war medals
old legs remember

Honeymoon
where the sins of the flesh
no longer apply

bleak house
the keyhole stuffed
against the wind

longest day . . .
training my horse to walk
through the mud

he makes me feel
like a child again
not young just small

rabbits come and go
above the daisy fields
and bones

Olympics
the wattle blossoms
brighter this year

lockdown yoga
my boat pose
sinking fast

sunday at the museum
cleaning lady washes
buddha’s eyes

dry creek bed
a dingo’s howl
unanswered

Headstone
a spider abseils
across broken webs

rosellas and wrens
wheel and chase
prayer flags

on a thistle
the same bee
that pollinates my daises

2020
a masked ball
with no dancing

judging every move
of the gymnast
my cat

buttered scones
the widow tempts
the mailman

well past
their best before date
my thought and prayers

cancelled event—
my dress hangs
empty

a still winter night …
the clock and i
still working

hard copy mag
with two fingers
I try to zoom in

gentle swell
the paddle-boarder’s
wetsuit still dry

pandemic
she polishes the leaves
of her fiddle-leaf fig

bare branches
visiting the landmarks
that shaped you

a heron wades
knee deep
a crocodile winks

Broome airport –
a flock of red necked stints
head for the bay

August winds
the cat grass bends
his whiskers

hang gliding
the sequential take-off
of fledglings

still water
the decorator crab
all dressed up

closed for renovations
butterfly wings clip
the long grass

he brings some home
on his sleeping bag
forest scent

for the kitchen vase
a clutch of dandelions
in my toddler’s hand

spring thaw—
the dirt where dad
would have planted seeds

crackling fire—
a hint of eggnog
in her kiss

uptown bus—
the strangers in front of me
exhaust their conversation

summer solstice
the lengthening list
of evening chores

sultry night
the moon slips quietly
into the pool

uphill walk
the deepening breath
of eucalyptus

autumn’s shadow
mother’s spectacles
outgrown her

stirring branches
the rattle
of rusted leaves

the fires
of sunset and storm
his opal tiepin

gran’s living-room
the flying ducks
lower now

nursing home
i tell her
she lived through the war

two-seater desk
dipping pens
into the blue-black

poised
for yoga
bonsai

we launch
a paper boat
on a moonbeam

each haiku
in the shadow
of another

morning glories
a girl unfastens
her necklace

when bud
becomes scent
magnolia

so many footprints
in just one of mine
sandpiper

scent
of plum blossoms
the keisaku strikes

(A keisaku is a flat wooden stick used to strike a Zen meditator on the shoulder when he or she appears to lose concentration.)

social isolation …
the sound of
other people’s lives

autumn ginko
three ibises
nod in unison
a red leaf
on the walkway
last day of summer
the butcher bird
checks for grubs—
swaddled baby

eastern greys
the alpha male
a body builder

palm tree
each new frond
a raised spear

third lockdown
the spring of my ideas
dries up

in the street
where we children used to play
bumper to bumper

mystery
on the poetry shelf
ragweed

bitter espresso
his love letter
under the coffee cup
each day
a year
pandemic

New Year’s Eve …
a mannequin’s smirk
follows me

early morning chill …
a billow of smoke rises
from the fresh pyre

splashing
in her morning bath—
tree frogs

grandmother’s garden—
the scent of phlox
and solace

an ostrich escapes
in lockdown…oh
to be in her shoes

old vinyl records
of all things my father
can’t forget

breaststroke
I am Moses
on a smaller scale

summer dawn
a conversation of bees
at the birdbath

spider’s web
her lacey knickers
on clothes line
partial eclipse
the man in the moon
wears a cap

so dark outside—
all I can see
is my own reflection

after the wind
we roll the mangoes
back under the fence

cremation—
the dryness
of held hands

summer rain—
tiny ponds
in deer prints

sword ferns—
from a single helix
new fronds
moon shine—
raccoons in headlights
search the garbage

holding back
dropping a letter
into the postbox

a single oak
fifty years on
a lone crow

beginnings
always easier
than endings

the curve
of her smile
shapes my day

empty wheelie bin
chatters down the laneway
his sole companion

leaf cutter ants
the tattered banners
of empire

vaccination centre
a nurse explains
all the ins and outs

sunshower
a broken rainbow
in every puddle

behind bars …
the canary sings
to his reflection

washhouse
perfectly white
cloud above it

sunny sandstone—
the masonic lodge
keeps its secrets

every moment
beneath the bridge
a new river

ambulance
the moon follows us
all the way

long journey
my ex introduces me
to her ex

happy hour
the old musician in a chair
still rocking

bush greenhood
all dad’s tales when
I was young

more gentle
than she’s ever been
new-laid egg

outback highway …
vehicles brrrrr across
metal cattle grids

house proud
she brushes me
out the door

bauhinia leaf
sunlit tracery
butterfly wings

laptop updating …
the drip  drip  drip of rain
in the downpipe

family bible
between Genesis 2 & 4
a pressed blossom

pandemic
she lights a candle
for her son

new suit
to the undertaker
unworn

covid-19
the books in the bookcase
all fall down

school yard
the raven picks up
a McDonald’s box

painted fingernails …
she whispers checkmate
with the ivory rook

daydream …
the girl that never was
beside the lake

ageing …
together we remember
what we forget

childhood home
I watched the outhouse
move in
dawn service
magpies fly low
over the crowd

milking time
the herd separated
by traffic

debate season
splitting logs
with a dull ax

mackerel sky
the wrinkles I can’t
iron out

giggling children
the rhythm of
millipede legs

autumn breeze
stirring
a locust song

drawing a curve …
my brother teaches me
Surya Namaskar

the split space
between stump and sky
—an elegy

a lone peewit
with a mouthful of spider …
trapped in my thoughts

sleepless night
possums squabble
in the almond tree
resort umbrella
a bikini-clad swimmer
shelters from the rain

demonstrators
her abuse
painted in words

sentinels
dawn paints
their branches

stained glass
melted
a fable turned white

deeper than the
hoot of snowy owls
winter solitude …

her fingers
trace my back
home coming …

flooded canal—
the frequent pause
of a spider

as if
snow in April…
cherry blossoms

wildflowers
cut into patterns
sewing class

a gardener
and his lawn
perfect buzzcuts

earthquake
my washing machine
hits spin cycle

the old man
and his dog
waiting for sunset

looks me up and down
one hand against a tree
lace monitor

perfect skin
the excitement of freckles
here and there

colourless
in the moonlight
your prize roses

the drought-brown mesa
with nothing left to offer—
coronavirus

all daisies and dandelions the hippy’s lawn

I see blossoms
returning to twig
a bottle of wine

plastic rake
a nest of fibreglass
among the leaves

eyes front
                        soldier crabs march
sideways

tibouchina
an autumn flowering
at the nursing home

dawn chorus
remembering
morse code

Annus Horribilis

It has been an Annus Horribilis
and now we hope it has come to an end.
We hope that, at last, we are on the mend.
It has been an Annus Horribilis,
if it doesn’t stop, I’ll go round the bend,
it is enough, God, no need to bill us!
It has been an Annus Horribilis
and now we hope it has come to an end.
By imposing stupidity taxes
we can lobotomize anti-vaxxers!

Bloodied Fruit

A young man’s penknife cleaves the peach
she lies still – watching clouds
bruised as her thighs – blot a faded

future – on the point of his knife he offers a slice – peace to
pursed lips – his contrite eyes cool to slate –
knifes her closed lips – another
stab – tastes blood – swallows loss.

Playground

The children go inside
vacate the playground
and leave the light
to play alone
glancing and beaming
as a truant wind scrapes
a dry leaf along the ground
like a small boy grazing
his knee.

brièveté

.. what is a poem .. .. ..

i hear you s – i – i – i – i – g h .. ..
.. .. .. .. .. .. ..

to tell a truth
or .. ..

half a lie

New foundations

The slab’s gone down
concrete footings
wire mesh
pipes sticking out

About to pour cat
biscuits on yoghurt –

is it all upwards from here?