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…
Mary Salter has lived in Perth for most of her life and acknowledges the original inhabitants, their manifest knowledge and love of country. She has taught English and Literature and has written all of her life. She has published a…
by Kris Hemensley 1. 30 Aug 24 (14.20 or mid afternoon — wind the belter predicted — at Degani’s swallow complimentary water in a single gulp – like Morse “a proper drink” he says “it helps me to think” (fear…
Alleyne Hall has been a long-term member of the Time to Write group through Baw Baw Arts Alliance. Writing poetry for several years, she creates poems and narratives, with a focus on nature and spiritual matters, travel and family. She…
after the bomb I stumble through rubble — this tunnel vision shows someone stealing a dead man’s wallet Colombo, Sri Lanka, 1987 grandma’s shrine I sort blooms on trays learning the brief nature of all things’ existence Ratnapura, Sri Lanka,…
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…
Jeannie Haughton began writing puppetry scripts, then studied writing, completed the Diploma of Professional Writing and Editing and continues to write for theatre, with many produced plays under her belt. Writing short stories, non-fiction pieces and long-form poetry, she loves…
Dijanne Cevaal is a textile artist who has written several instructional books in France and Australia and has exhibited widely. She has been a member of the Time to Write group facilitated by Rodney Williams for the Baw Baw Arts…
by Rachel Skellett Sundays with you, where our roots start to grow, we wander in awe, as we venture, investigate and reflect on the place we now call home. The artistry of the season they call Kambarang radiating into view, golden-orange, honeyed…
by Kate Olivieri My neighbour told me Someone cried to their case manager My kids’ placentas are buried in the yard Will you compensate me for that my heart dropped so is my son’s the government is buying our house…
