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Tiger Tiger

by LYNDAL TURNER In the orchard, the air was cooler and a kind of verdancy teased at the ends of our hair. Industry buzzed and wheeled between the branches and sweet fruit hung in globes as bright as any strands…

love shack

by YVETTE STUBBS slodging through floor detritus and old toilet paper rolls we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be civilised, and we are getting to like it no bras, no undies, no care saving on shampoo and deodorant too. yeah…

The birds are restless again

by YVETTE STUBBS The birds are restless again a haze of smoke smudges the mountains crows fly with starlings curtaining the air with feathered fear where is the fire? Are they doing controlled burnings near? I am restless now Birds…

It’s NIGHT

by YVETTE STUBBS Night owls prowl It’s snowing in Scotland The sky is black I watch house hunters abroad on mute Timer to go off in 60 minutes It stops the chatter in my bones It’s night Cicadas rasp their…

The one that got away

by PAT SAUNDERS bream bite when the tide is high the tranquil river mouth gasps for air kissing the rapacious windy wild sea its swollen banks our sunlounge as we patiently await the serendipitous nibble the line requires little weight…

Busselton Jetty

by PAT SAUNDERS dad’s calm hand clutches mine his southern british lilt coaxes tiny crawling snail-like me onto ancient timber planks beneath which grasping wind and wild water wait to swallow me look up he says I baulk glimpsing whitewash…

Bus Stop

by PAT SAUNDERS I step forward without looking feet float arms flail head somersaults swim through air the world spins more than once colours slomo stretch endlessly ears hear nothing not a sound landing’s hard butt and hip hurt badly…

Sandstone Gorge

by JANEEN SAMUEL In this place is silence: would that the world could listen and be so still. There is no stirring of trees nor grasses; the pale-eyed lizard either is motionless or swift as a flicker of thought –…

Look, it’s the Noosa everglades

by MARGARET OWEN RUCKERT  where forests of strap-plants, edge-loving land-dwellers, conceal the swamp beyond & vie for space like flags in a crowd. No rationing of water or sun in paradise. Water is tropical here, but rarely topical. A bow…

Blue cloud band

by MARGARET OWEN RUCKERT I’m walking the edge of a sleepy river slapping its sides like a cool bass player jazz at sunset, songs in the air     horns and wood, winds over water. Mike’s antique piano smooches and honks…