Clover Hitch the clover is in full reach again path’s curve swoons beneath and when rain gallops a million pale dots across the park I see little white flowers fragmented by the storm spring gathers what summer deploys At dVerse this week, Bjorn asks us to create our own aphorisms. I came up with "Spring … Continue reading #dVerse Aphorisms
He comes the other way, a belly of puffing in his mouth. A child’s floral sun hat rests on his bald head and he carries an oven rack that swings with his stride. My mind dandles oddities knowing he’s done my work for me. dVerse Quadrille "work" hosted by msjadeli
"Sky above Clouds by Georgia O'Keaffe" imagine if lily pads were white the polka dot of ponds & frogs glare-blind, still blinking that’s what I see on a wandered Sunday when yellow is the primary fruit seven cockatoos splay a bush & like big white magnolia flowers they oblige the afternoon with glowing & above … Continue reading Excuse Me
This is for Visual Verse Anthology September issue. I haven't posted the image in case others want to submit. This poem will not be submitted. we make the clouds clouds of spume of earth’s breath we’re all waiting for Numeena, waiting in the light-scuffed sea here, here she comes now stepping down from the iron-filing … Continue reading the night the clouds were freed
DARK MATTER will we find the fabric of darkness buried in a mine shaft? this scrim tide that hurricanes through me might leave its finger print on pure crystal like a disrespectful thief, then in dogmatic spin hold its skirt hems tight to its centre and never be seen again. This was written for Twiglet … Continue reading Twiglet #294
We borrowed our shoes from a dinosaur on the hill each foot crashing with indispensable decisions - mammoth & satisfying. Giant houses & wrathful money seem smart in the clammy fists of men until cash tires & desire becomes jaded, slipping to the floor like damp newspaper. Frogs, fat on sugar & the gratis of … Continue reading Shoes of Dinosaurs
Pick a venue now, bouncer in black curly ear-cord heading ‘round the back like his old house phone’s been filed hidden tight away, like his neoprene smile. A line of glitz straggles from the stairs bum skirts, high heels, production hair strapless bras, assets wrapped for display, earrings dangle long, the click and sway. Dudes … Continue reading Those Old Days
Season of immolation guts & bones ribs seared to white sun-glare, heat-dash pebbles’ broken-tooth chatter underfoot, a rolled ferry carcass, & bridges that span simmering air. Water runs, they say to some finish line taking life with it. From rock to rock we mark the passing - rivers as graveyards - such fundamental deaths. Written … Continue reading Water Runs
Surprisingly I’m still the same Unable to resist sunshine in cloth, must hold it to my Nose and breathe. Sleep Leans in then and I am a child again, Gazing over my little batik sarong, its smell a Hammock for my Tiredness. In its quiet hug, I am safe. Written for dVerse Poetics. "Common Scents"
in death we are useful woven in to Earth’s loom we are something then connecting fertile dots and darkness as dreams roll and the living incubate the sky Written for Sarah's Tuesday Poetics dVerse prompt "the four elements"
by day molecules riff, sun-flit is held in air pressing shadows flat: inconstant contrast and then you come egalitarian night, your sky is taut a moonless traverse yet still, my cheeks feel the rushing written for dVerse poetics. "4 elements"
a crackle of cockatoos & deafening smoke feathers take on the gore flint sharp, the white-hooked scream Written for Sarah's dVerse poetics. "the 4 elements"
Unpack horizon’s duffle of trinket light and cloud swarm - evening tumbles down among winter scrums. Chorus of men in rhapsodic echo, and porous thump, ball changes hands - a caress of lavender sky. Two dozen loves before game’s end... it’s a stretch Written for Twiglet #292 "it's a stretch"
tectonic love, I know you’re too old to start again you swaddle me in your gauzy scarf those rapscallion clouds spelling sunsets or possibly the daydreams of fire ants nest unravelled one cicada alone is beautiful beaten rainbow wings - (note the azalea swirls like shokunin steel) but we are a carnival roaring against your … Continue reading I Heart Earth
Mt Ainslie Saturday Morning Mouldy mountain, clear sky above A cloud’s embrace, the wettest love Duck the hug and miss the scene droplet’s wink and boastful green Timid trunks swim through grey but treetops brush the damp away Mouldy mountain, clear sky above A cloud’s embrace, the wettest love Written for Grace's dVerse Poetics prompt … Continue reading #dVerse Octelle
He’s there again skinny with dreads and a bean pod tattoo and I order my usual toasted bagel with butter and vegemite and the music thrums and I ask him what it is “St Germain, Tourist” he says and shows me a CD cover orange with a train and his cheeks dip in like life … Continue reading I still love that album
The Scratch a face // the colour of porridge gone cold we’re all spun // wool in a ball ‘til the inner cat comes silent pounce draws blood unravelling tide and dreams: red plastic envelopes // hanging on the line type O+ is harder to find written for whimsygizmo's dVerse quadrille "type"
Tourist Without a Dictionary Beneath every mountain is a map flung but unsung by ravensong or the witchcraft of breeze-saying. When we walk, breath coarse as ice flow from this snow-crusted air, I stop on thigh-sore’s pitch and turn to the view. There it is, the sprawl of our city, roof-tumble and tree toss and … Continue reading Twiglet #290
The girl with polka dotted wellies is shin deep in garden cavorting in a pine bark sea because under the tip, flip, drizzling it’s a four inch day. My plastic tablecloth billows and the carpark's running downhill - gravel rush and mud skin... and there’s the bob-gloss of umbrellas and a three foot leap with … Continue reading Four Inch Day
Feeling stupid after an email conversation, I go out to exercise the dog. The oval lies over-sheened with western sun. Light billows like a sheet, particulate and all-pervasive until I shade my eyes. The dog scoots, mostly ignoring the ball which I throw for my own exercise, walking on and to pick it up and … Continue reading Warp & Weft
You caught me stealing at dusk limes from our neighbour’s tree; they were yellow and cold. but you with your lilac smile you dangled, fishing-line easy pilfering light from a company of unrisen stars. I ducked inside cheeks pink as the froth of clouds but you smarmied on, shameless as Fagan It's little consolation knowing … Continue reading Slaves of Citrus
Truckie's Idyll Wrap me in kitsch this adumbral night; purple me with stars and a step-through moon. Set me to rolling milestone swift, swath-bottomed and cone-eyed, trundling beneath branches that crowd like puzzle pieces, roadside grasses breathe me in and out - feathered lungs fanfaring dreams Written for dVerse - Mish's Quadrille prompt "wrap"
“Hello,” they say with their Whitsunday smiles white as glint. Well, it’s true the sun brims in tagging bikinis and crepe crisp pants and noses licked with silver, and golfing men who follow their bellies down the street every skin crevice deep with red Crows, currawongs and gulls haggle with tourists, and the simpering sea... … Continue reading Hamilton Island
Winter Festival I feel safe hereamong footprint clouds where the lanterns spirala wind trodden sky walking flames andall that is blown in smoke's waveris not undone the shadows of childrenour little heads shape my lifecurving as the moon dark on darkvestigial beauty Inspired by Misky
Holding the Sky this windward evening rests green and purple... the suppuration of cloud hearts permeates permeates grey tree skeletons and the clack clack of their shadows scything through the grass. winter dusk is perfect as a pantomime face - summer’s stolen apricots thick on her eyelids I turn to cross the road and see … Continue reading #MTB dVerse “Moralising”
Eleven Years Pumpkin soup and hot sausage rolls and clocks that tick… their old fashioned metre summoning us toward the future. My daughter turns eleven next week. Eleven years, shot by like a contrail and dispersing as it recedes. Is it normal to do your growing in the white fuzz of your mother’s memory? The … Continue reading #Haibun Wednesday “Time”
I am here for another birth metastasizing darkness the way afternoon sun treats the day to riches I suppose death lies for us all somewhere between our pillow and a dream in the moment when breath escapes the inevitable frangipani storm // the sawing sea I must go in for the fog is rising pressing … Continue reading the final flood
we say: cast out the man with lantern eyes & brows spelling thunder who slows the deathly flooding in your child blood of blood, sweet woman count not the broken phials and strewn violence! banish him Ausländische Prinzessin! A mother's love is but hysteria. Written for the Sanaa's dVerse Quadrille prompt "Casting a Poetic Spell"
Working Title: Mind Doodles (i) pulsing white heart above the pine prehistory snares the raucous breeze cockies landing (ii) and she wonders (nose to the sky) if perhaps it’s the blue that scuds, carrying satellites above stationary puffs Earth a ball bearing in the spin of a wheel (iii) in the east a graphite smudge … Continue reading June 13
when the day falls in sodden strips, snags toes on pavement edge spills to mirrored ladders, the wetly twirling leaves double their ponderous flight up and down, into and deeper resting on meniscus the middle is a space of floating // parts might kiss or turn away, boundaries and meetings all in reflection