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 October 2008

Verse Portrait 61. Twice Bitten

You have gone
into the dreams of night.
On Halloween I read
your message of goodbye.

Last time you left
no message.
My silly heart broke.

This time, scrupulous,
you kept your promise:
no more unexplained
vanishing tricks.

You told me my fault
and only then
cut all contact.

This time it hurts less.
Although I forgave
I never went so deep again.
What you had done once….

Heading for the sky: haiku and things for October 2008


Gone with September
those rainstorms and hard, cold winds.
October hots up.


The Wheel of the Year
keeps turning, as the world turns.
The seasons rotate.


Down here, Down Under,
we complement, not mirror.
A parallel world!


Today in Pottsville
in an absence of traffic
and a flood of sun
the village is somnolent
as backroad afternoons.

(Note: I'm indebted to 'Lady Madelyn', who posts to Haiku on Friday at MySpace, for the phrase 'backroad afternoons'.)


Sky covered in grey.
The only colour I see,
my stained glass window.


Neat hair and beard now,
replacing straggly dreadlocks.
My friend goes to court.


Clouds cover the sky
on the night of the full moon.
Spring rain falls softly.


The sky is clouded.
There is a full moon tonight
that I'll never see.


A flash of bright green.
The first lorikeet of spring
surprises the air.


rainbow lorikeets
colours of autumn leaves, sky
green, red, yellow, blue.


Maple Vine

Red leaves climb a trunk
reaching past the tips of pines,
heading for the sky.


Green spider orchid.
I used to make that essence
helped by the devas
and guided by the Divine.
(It was for divination.)


Spring in the tropics.
The avocadoes ripen,
my wind chime sings loud.


My mother’s birthday.
Ten years and more since she died
but I don’t forget.


I sat by her bed
holding her hand till the end,
reluctant to know.


Ah, once they have crossed,
people love more freely:
no inhibitions!

I'm a medium.
It moves me to tears always,
that unfettered love.


We give them poems.
Our way to honour the dead
who gave us our lives.


Basil garden

As we come closer
it rises to our nostrils,
that savoury scent.



The moon's a sliver.
The ancestors and others
return through darkness.


We breathe together
lighting an etheric fire ...
leap together, fly.


Summer approaches.
Wind and surf sing together.
The trees are dancing.

26 October 2008

Verse Portrait 60. Arrival

Her face in trance
gravely serene, eyes closed,
caught in this photo
is the same I saw in vision –
the woman my friend would meet
within the year. Spiritual,
I told him, also dynamic.

A year to the day he writes,
'We fell in love quickly.'
Black hair, I said; brown skin.
And here she is
kneeling in ritual –
scientist and shaman, I learn;
mischievous, compassionate ...
prophecy fulfilled.

Verse Portrait 59. Brief Encounter

In the waiting-room
a baby wailed,
held to his mother’s shoulder
as she stood at the counter
her back to the rest of us.

He was bald and pale,
swathed in white.
The huge sound of his distress
shattered the air.

I sent him a beam of love
across the space.
Immediately his cry stopped.
He raised his head,
looked straight at me,
held my gaze and smiled.

19 October 2008

Verse Portrait 58. My Extra-Terrestrial Friend

Did you find a physicist?
Not many scientists here
do telepathy!

Our meditation group
reached out,
found you orbiting;
couldn’t begin to grasp
what you had to impart.

No ‘little green man’,
your projected image
was long, columnar,
non-humanoid …
and yes, green: bright
as if lit from within.

I guess you went home
when your two years were up.

You were friendly and fun.
I liked you.

Verse Portrait 57. Ursula Le Guin

A Wizard of Earthsea
was my first fantasy novel
(Alice more classic than genre;
and, not raised on Narnia,
that still unread).
Ursula, it was you
who gave me this way
of entering dream and dimensions,
writing with grace and wit:
imparting the ways of magick,
moral dilemmas, growth.
I was very young,
though not so young as your hero.
He — you — taught me
how to develop character.

10 October 2008

Verse Portrait 56. Karuna Mayi

At Healers’ Day
I cleared your past life:
Herman, tortured for witchcraft;
healer then too (herbs, alchemy)
I your acolyte.
This life, your Reiki Master.

Millennium meditation
you stood: angel,
arms outspread
holding the energy.

The last time I ever saw you
I wanted to say, ‘Love you forever.’
The words rose in me
but seemed too final, so I said,
‘I’ll see you again.’
I expect so.