I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

31 December 2007

Fresh quiet morning: haiku and things for December 2007


Fresh quiet morning.
We breathe in deep the soft air
already heating.


An overcast sky
grey with the promise of rain.
My eyelids heavy.


It's a sweet story
the babe, the star, the manger.
A time for new birth.


The cockatoo's crest
rises as a question mark
on his bright gold crown.


Flying flags lift off
from a bridge that floats on sky
over dense water.


A slice of their world
shows the goldfish purposeful
and filling their world.


Pop a strawberry
whole into my waiting glass!
My palate tingles.


The huddled boats
nesting under tarpaulins
waken to first light.


My friend's blissful face
raised to the source of the light
shines in its one ray.


Through mist, a rainbow
glows above green hills and fields
marking a treasure.


Retreating for years
to the rooms furthest apart
each one worked alone.

Now Andrew and I
have brought our desks together
in the living room.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

30 November 2007

Late night and white noise: haiku and things for November 2007


I'm hot. The creek's high.
My first swim of the season.
Ouch! Icy water.


Over in Texas
my friend's dog has gone missing.
I hug my cats close.


Late night and white noise
pouring from the computer
covers my loud thoughts.

I watch the World Clock
as the days keep going past.
Morning, night, morning.

From across the world
from inside a long silence
is a wolf howling?


Already morning.
A night of peaceful silence
dreaming of haiku.


Tomorrow morning
may we wake from our long night
into bright new dawn!

(A reference to the Federal Elections in Australia. The dawn was bright!)

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

3 November 2007

Commencing the Journey to Ixtlan

I have no intention nor wish
to turn back –
though I was some way down the track
before I even realised
I had already set out.

The inexorable steps are blurred:
a series of unremarked, ordinary moments.

Calling with your pale mouth,
you have become
a phantom by the roadside.

At times you still seem real.
Then the eagerness
with which you offer me food
or point what you say is the way
reveals you to me.

You are no true guide;
I must not trust you.

The path is solitary, unfamiliar.
I don’t know where it will take me.
Lonely, I have no regrets.

Inspired partly by the writings of Carlos Castaneda, in a metaphorical way.

An old piece, as you see, about an old situation — 
newly submitted (29 May 2013) for Poets United's Verse First: The Function of Freedom

31 October 2007

Faces in the flames: haiku and things for October 2007


Faces in the flames
rising as the smoke rises.
Visions, memories …


October gets loud.
Earth movers outside all day,
and nights of thunder.


The earth our mother
will survive us delinquents,
but will we survive?


In the quiet night
the lights and the fading drone
of one car passing.


Here, clouds and lightning,
the gush of baptismal rain
sudden, swift and soft.

From across the world
mountains of fast-moving flame
shock our TV screens.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

30 September 2007

A cold rainy day: haiku and things for September 2007


A cold rainy day.
Darting across the wet road
one sudden swallow.


Furled umbrellas
gathered in a basket –
unopened blossoms.


I begin to write
his elegy, the husband
dead these thirteen years.


Suddenly it's warm.
The season rouses at last,
comes fully awake.


For my god-daughter Mikaela

You have turned sixteen.
That laughing baby I held
had these same bright eyes.


The river sparkles
smooth and glassy, undisturbed.
No swimmers. But soon ...


Listen to the wind!
How it sobs in the white waves
and sighs in the trees.


The beach at nightfall.
Out there, whales play hide-and-seek,
flipping their high tails.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

31 August 2007

Coughing my heart out: haiku and things for August 2007


Coughing my heart out
as they say in the clichés.
Haiku can't happen.

(Except of course from
you, who still have, I trust, both
heart and poetry.)


Chill nights and warm days.
Oh Spring you are a teaser
blowing hot and cold.


I turn off the light.
Curling against the cushions,
cats and man sleep deep.


Peru Haiku

I would go back there
to Peru of the earthquakes
while the Andes stand.

The buried Inca
begin to stir in their graves.
The mountains rumble.

Far from the rubble
of shattered city buildings
soars the great condor.


Waves gun-metal grey
and the clouds sitting heavy.
A cramped horizon.


Cosmo has gone but
for me his imprint lingers
all over Kingscliff.


After the eclipse
the moon seemed brighter, cleaner.
I lifted wide arms.


At night we hear it,
the hushed rumble of the surf
pouring and pouring.


I watched the eclipse.
Later that night a message
that old friends had died.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

31 July 2007

Briefly as if from nowhere: haiku and things for July 2007


Morning is coming.
Rain on the roof gets louder.
I hide from the dark.


Morning is blank
in the cold winter sunshine
of an empty sky.


The birds chirp loudly
but for you who are absent
they remain silent.


Without your body
warm in the bed beside me
I sleep like the dead.


On a busy road
briefly as if from nowhere
the scent of almonds.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

30 June 2007

Warm winter: haiku and things for June 2007


Such a warm winter!
I can't help feeling glad – though
the country's still dry.


I come to bed late.
Both the cats stir and greet me.
The man doesn't wake.


It's June eleven.
Four decades ago we wed.
Now you are a ghost.


Tonight the moon will be
exactly half full.


Oh! sudden swallows
deceived by warm winter
quickening the air.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

31 May 2007

Red leaves and a small green frog: haiku and things for May 2007


Clinging to this tree,
red leaves and a small green frog
make me weep. But why?


In this warm autumn
the wattles are flowering
as if it were spring!


In the photo ...

Sudden spring blossoms
encrust the branches thickly,
each bloom delicate.

The cat is watching
from behind glass, ducks resting
unaware, serene.


It's raining again
all over the drought country.
It sinks in. We weep.


These warm autumn days
deceive the senses until
sunset, 5 p.m.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

30 April 2007

Darkness coming down: haiku and things for April 2007


Darkness coming down.
A child on a footpath running
just ahead of night.



A flood of haiku
to carry me away from
our drought-stricken land.


April morning.
Two pink flowers
half concealed by weeds.


April clouds
form the shape of a dragon
thinner than vapour trails.


We wake to loud knocks.
Three young schoolboys
beg to wash our car.


All summer we swam.
The creek looks very flat now.
Weeds grow in the mud.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

31 March 2007

Look! Leopard colours: haiku and things for March 2007


Look! Leopard colours
in the creek, floating, drowning,
the first fallen leaf.


It is just starting
to be Friday in Texas.
It's warm and windy.

Here, it's a hot night.
The breeze is light, with an edge.
Lads go past, yelling.

I think of Austin,
April Austin with poems
yelled on wild warm nights.


I'm late here tonight
to swim my autumn river.
The breeze has a chill.

The tide runs out fast.
The rowboat up yonder slows.
I make for the shore.



Friday came and went.
Many refrained from haiku
as the season changed.


The nights grow cooler.
The street shuts its doors early
and draws the curtains.


Winter is coming.
Then I can wear my SWAT boots
I got in Texas.


An outgoing tide
takes us gently, suddenly
beyond our limits.


Blustery day here.
We head south: even colder.
Swimming's over now.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

28 February 2007

February clouds: haiku and things for February 2007


The view from Dawn's diningroom

Meadows green and gold
lead my gaze past the farmhouse
to vast rolling cloud.


Wide as a river
my salty green tidal creek
jumping with fish.


Water aerobics.
All alone I dance for joy.
Pelican beaks clap.


Flung into my mind
this thought of yours starts ripples
that keep widening.


I don't send, this day,
a big red Valentine heart.
Love you all the days....


He sends me a rose
and promises love always.
All day I'm singing.


February clouds.
White orchids tinged with purple
wait for the rain.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007

31 January 2007

January rain: haiku and things for January 2007


January rain.
Your face looking back at me.
The warmth in your eyes.


She holds the infant,
its head soft against her cheek,
inhaling skin, hair.


The photo

While you are gone, missing your voice
I turn often to your speaking face.


My dead friend. And you,
the living friend so like him.
My soul is twice blessed.


The view from Down Under

America wakes
and comes online, we can tell.
MySpace gets clunky.


The tidal river.
A black arrow strikes the shore:
sudden cormorant.


My mind has blanked out.
It's the heat. It gets to me.
My brain is melting.


Goddess Exhibition, Art Gallery of NSW

As we wait in line
Krishna embraces Radha
and music begins.

Green Tara

Smiling serenely
she makes a gesture of giving,
dangling one gilt leg.

© Rosemary Nissen-Wade 2007