Category Longer Poetry

by Allan Padgett So the easterly is blowing hard through the gum trees & local sky & it rips me from the sleep that is so hard to find. Transistor switched to on, News Hour from 4-5 am on the…

by Kitty Owens The camp-ground rule is Walking Pace Only. We walk away the argument in the car. Shush, calm down, both of us. Time now for the strange labours of camping. Tightening ropes, plunging hands into ice, cradling tiny…

by Kitty Owens Crocodiles: An ancient fear an undertow the salt to balance the sweetness of the ocean The Japanese Cemetery: A breeze in the bamboo comforts drowned Japanese divers swimming in red dirt Leaving the sea: Take the roaring…

by Jo Whitelaw The grass is lush on the downward face yet I’m careful where I tread, for a thousand souls rest in this place. This island’s final bed. I progress through ancient stones and feel the kiss of ocean…

All New Life Showroom by Wayne Pollard On the edge of transcendental space life is. Neon moons allude to the entrance of the All New Life Showroom. A velvet starfish points to a room and slips those that enter a…

by Les Wicks My boat was an argument. Like all arguments it leaked when subjected to pressure, once dragged out of shadows was unable to endure the corrosions of the sun. It took some tacking a modicum of sweat but…

by Andrew Hede gentle winter breeze ~ bees flutter among blossoms of golden wattle a faint scent of nectar a soft sound of buzzing ~ I reflect on the grandeur of planet earth a hidden grove of seven scribbly gums…

by Andrew Hede Hamas hostages massacre survivors in netherworld darkness initial helplessness descends into hopelessness ~ witnessing from afar brings deep sadness tinged with despair a young boy weeps beside his parents wrapped in white shrouds their home a heap…

by Pauline Cleary When I reach the gate, the call of a mopoke cuts through the night, haunting and melancholic, a two-beat song, repeated. The moon rises, glowing and evanescent, floating on orange-rimmed cloud; tossed into the sky by some…

by Maria Bonar A young dove builds her first nest on a precarious nook on my front porch. A previous site of windblown disaster strewn twigs, woolly strands, broken eggs She bills and coos loudly, announcing her flimsy new domicile…