Kimberley
by MARIA BONAR red dirt, ancient flat top mountains searing blue sky, scent of spinifex a distant swollen boab tree the silhouette of a rock wallaby appears briefly on top of the mount no breath of wind, no birdsong I…
Longer Poetry
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Driving to Mullewa
by MARIA BONAR September transforms the landscape from red earth, to carpets of daisy-like everlastings with sprinklings of spider orchids, purple fringed lilies star flowers, kangaroo paws, in pops of colour like graduates at a high school ball plain banksia…
Guardians Till Now
by KELLIE ASMUSSEN – An extract from a four-part piece II Deep gutters adjoin cobbled lanes and hot chocolate is sipped while drizzling rain changes to snow. Like magnets we congregate – no church required – and wings, then concealed,…
Fly Away
by KELLIE ASMUSSEN Through a slightly busy town, over a bent-round hill and splitting a valley of grass brown, a dusty dirt road beckons. Stomping a rusty fence of barb, the all-forever sighing willows reveal a quiet well-tapped clearing –…
Jiàn dào nǐ (Nice to meet you)
by KELLIE ASMUSSEN Swishing movement amongst broken clatter its penetration a mere glimpse to those clad in black and blue, squatting within everything but hay. Blackened teeth stand marking the land, momentarily breaking the constant colour of tarnished grass-like fields…
Milparinka Breathes Again
by JUDE AQUILINA Like an old movie played backwards the building stones have flown back up, walls regrown, verandah posts standing tall again; timber floored rooms restocked with furniture. History’s ebbing tide has brought the dead back to shore, old…
Mundoora Wheatfields
by JUDE AQUILINA Below the hummock patchwork fields held together with barbed wire stitches. Wind riffles green stalks in watery waves like crushed velvet curtains closing at a country hall. The road winds down between green paddocks like spilt black…
Tin House Town
by JUDE AQUILINA Streets are lined with proud facades, window-eyed clad in fluted iron, or stone patterned tin, raising bullnosed brows and peaked caps to tourists and trucks – for time does not weary them: the Trust keeps them corrugated.…