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.

26 August 2009

Oh Summer

Oh Summer, here you come!
The girl from the cold south isle
who lives in me still
remembers your warm arrival
after months of frost
after fog in the lungs
after the limbs’ paralysis.
Even the brain went numb
even the blood was chill.

So now my heart lifts and swells
once more like the rising ocean
sparkling blue and the air
rich with new hints
of blooms and fruits to come.
Here they will be
mangoes and frangipannis.
There, I scented loganberries,
nectarines, and the hum
of rapturous bees in the blue ceanothis.

No wonder I forget
how far north I have come.
Here in the big dry
that will be summer,
already the fires begin.
Nevertheless I sing
as the sky wakes up
the light expands, and I feel
your first soft touch on my skin.

1 August 2009

Tweet poems for July 2009


Bright bud renews/the straggly rose./Older blooms loosen untidy petals/curling at the edges/ready to fall.



Who goes out/through the wind/through wind-blown leaves?/A glimpse, a shadow, an imagining,/a memory, a momentary dream?



A dream v light that z all music. A dream v music that z all light. I stand n th Temple v Illuminatn forming around me tangible song.



A flash of shade/from a swinging branch/and I think a bird’s wing/has crossed my window.



Sleek black/my cat lies against me/placed just right/for caresses.



we roam th night sky/where stars are flowers//by rivers of light/we sing to th moon//she is golden, I’ll never/relinquish your hand



Big sea darkening/heavy grey, churning /to white over black./Soft pink sunset/on soft blue sky./The moon/already radiant.



Two cats asleep on the bed/lying apart, curl/in identical shapes.



Th path to th beach/is closed after storms,/th gentle ramp to th sand/a cliff now, barricaded/with broken branches/barbed like wire.



What invisible out in the dark/fascinates my cat with fear?/He peers through the glass/arching his black back,/slow tail switching.


Written for twitter

Tanka on Tuesday: July 2009

(Reposted from MySpace)


cold morning
cats warming the bed
birdsong outside
fresh and bright as dew
and the light widens

Tuesday’s departed
young goddaughter who lives far
here for just one day
then my old uncle’s passing
peaceful farewells with soft tears


sprawling on the bricks
I dig out weeds from the cracks
stabbing them sadly
the lesser of two evils
the landlord wanted poison


two cats and one man
sprawl asleep on the big bed
as the sun warms up
cancelling a wakeful night
exploring their pleasures late

Oh swift dragonfly! – haiku for July 2009


even after death
foibles are not forgotten
by the hell-wishers

A comment on the immediate aftermath of Michael Jackson's death.


the rose buds anew
on the old blooms petals curl
loosening their grip


sad young man visits
it's too late to mother him
I ache for his need


cold grey morning
roses bend in the rain
he sings at breakfast


oh swift dragonfly!
poised to alight on this page
with humming wings


Ernie is naughty
the mischievous boy in him
just why we love him.


refreshing rain
washes the kookaburra
his laugh rings clear


falling raindrops
life’s problems loosen and float
like fallen petals



young bull panics
separated from the pack
dead runner

Sum up your day in the form of a haiku


still in warm nightwear
should be transcribing Minutes
it's too cold for work


July morning chill
the vines push out new tendrils
into empty space


winter or summer
life pushes for renewal
dazzling and dancing


by vines in brisk dawn
or among summer roses
fly the winged haiku


a single thin vine
growing straight up from concrete
clings flat to the wall

Sum up your day in the form of a haiku


wrestle computer
eat, walk, shop, talk to husband,
wrestle computer

(it's old and it's slow
and being that way myself
too much frustration)


she lies on her side
preserved for millions of years
a tiny fossil