Black Swans
by MICHAEL BUCKINGHAM GRAY push up against a sheet of heat & slip as they wade up the shore pause under the shade of a peppermint tree & after a siesta stretch out their long necks seeking a way to…
Baw Baw Arts Alliance
supporting local Artists
Baw Baw Arts Alliance
supporting local Artists
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Bernard’s birthday poem
by KRIS HEMENSLEY B. “I’m sitting here — admiring my Marimekko pot from Finland/ not Japan/ as you might think” — K. I’m sitting here — writing not waiting — ‘there’ imbibed of his contemplation (3/5 Feb. — added (inside…
Currawong
by WAYNE POLLARD They fly to our trees. From somewhere unknown At 4-30pm they visit Rest in our trees. Pork mince awaits Their meal of choice Eat and leave. Tomorrow will come. Demented Echidna Poets Collective 24th April 2024.
Bellbird Park
by WAYNE POLLARD Eucalypt Orchestra A wind gently drifts across the park. A gum leaf gathers with others to hum a melody. Leaves still holding branches become wind chimes. To play a tune accompanying the leaves scattered in the grass.…
Arthur River
by GLENN MCPHERSON When bones Wash up On rocks, At the world’s edge There are distances We are Without. Dolerite- Headed thoughts Have stood here So long, unuttered. Fire does not move The way wind Moves ocean Where a dancing…
April in Eastwood
by RICHARD CLARKE When April with its sweet rains, its cooler evenings, shrinking days, tells the leaves to fade and fall while tibouchina and easter daisies, blushing purple, pink, pale, shade clusters of stonecrop, the dew settles, the dust goes,…
Aground
by JEANNIE HAUGHTON history in small towns – indigenous stories fixed to barbed wire fences in the shade of fuel pumps and cabbage trees… cigarette endings wayside stops – fly on the roadhouse door same fly yesterday bitumen boomerang curves…
Afternoon shower
by RON WILKINS Out bush walking, suddenly, involuntarily, I stop. Could I be half remembering some essential item left behind? Rather, it feels as if there is another presence. Something invisible, yet palpably existent. No apprehension. No slithering in the…
Advice from gooseberry cave
by LILLI WARD Outside: a crumbling hive. Inside: the air like shredded silk. An argent blouse of smog is torn by the red finger of a stalagmite. (soupy) A humid dew that curls my hair, relieved of my senses, I…
A Wander From Cape Solander
by SOPHIE EMMA TAYOR Pinned to the horizon by distant ships, the ocean billows like a baby blanket, its laced edge fluttering against the caramel crag. The heathland swallows the hilltop whole; shrubbery sprawls, banksia bundled, green tufts tumbling off…