Fabled Santorini
by Mary Salter Sheer red rock Furrowed and weathered bare Climbs out of a navy sea. Ancient volcanic rim Circles darkly on a Forever blue sky While curved shores Spread like flared skirts Hiding Her fiery centre. Tumbling down now,…
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The Sale
by Robyn Cairns The family home Sixty-six orange brick Is full of sun Bar coded through curtains Onto green floral carpet Photosynthesizing under our feet Childhood orbited One hundred Wallpapered suns My bedroom window pushed upwards Inhaling spring jasmine Smoothing…
Local Perspectives (Adelaide Hills Pathways)
by Alex Robertson Within Mt Lofty’s cooee Kaurna country (in part) Dreamings & imaginings Freeway lanes upon descent The tollgate of our environs Mind & attachment Going up or down the Ranges Geographical perspectives Interpreting the landscape To comprehend …
The Writing
by Robbie Coburn Almost burnt the pages and abandoned everything, striking a match and setting fire to the writing — that big book of your chosen suffering. you turned and left the paper as it was and stepped outside into…
Gerry Jacobson
Poet’s House a tanka string coming home to this empty house and full garden a blaze of tulips a tangle of weeds picturesque poetic image… a leaking roof… omg it’s raining in our bedroom now shattered vase… flowers all over…
Keitha Keyes
I hear voices raised in anger in the cubby house… my children pretending to be mummies and daddies yachts ready for the Boxing Day race… soon the spinnakers will burst into life in a patchwork of colours school concert —…
Keitha Keyes
Keitha Keyes lives in a tiny house in Sydney, filled with her husband’s model ships and her many antique irons and trivets. She enjoys writing haiku, senryu, gembun, tanka, kyoka, cherita, sequences and tanka prose. Her work is published in…
Kate King
wild dogs roam city streets violence simmering within these tame walls Chiang Mai, Thailand city workers too busy to notice honey bees nose-deep in lavender gathering sweetness morning breeze sweeps butterflies this way and that orange snowflakes in summer
Beachcomber
by Veronica Troup Our picnic rug once strewn across the spinifex arms wrapped, melting skin our footprints followed the tiny yes of seagull tracks our names scrawled deep in wet sand did not spell n o t g o o…
Gavin Austin
Her Garden a tanka sequence I linger in evening’s gentle hold the shadows falling across the valley echo with her voice the plum she planted as a bride its gnarled limbs scarred by sun and storm ghost in gathering night…