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 March 2010

I see the fairies dancing: March Tanka 2010

I work this Tuesday
in The Little Shop of Love
as psychic reader
my one client weeps and heals
I see the fairies dancing


today at tai chi
the sylphs were dancing en masse
small angular lights
joined in a floating circle
silent but so distracting


the peach-coloured rose
you left for me yesterday
still wet with raindrops
blooms into its fullness now
and the scent draws me closer


she failed to notice
the blooming rose wither
its petals contract
losing their light and falling
her attention was elsewhere


the boy with the dreads
wooden beads and surfboard shorts
comes to buy rose quartz
says yes he needs healing but
this is a gift for his girl


it’s warm on the hill
new vines swarming up the fence
after all that rain
but I move away from you
down into the cold city


Morning light.
The neighbour's tiled roof
solid red
against leaves and sky:
the view from our bed.


28 March 2010

Early morning damp: haiku for March 2010

early morning damp
a statue with dismal face
alone in the grass


overcast morning
a small moth cruises the weeds
by the draggled rose


the sun breaking through
lights up my small walled garden
just as I look out


the sunlight picks out
among the leaves a bright bird
startled eye glaring


the wind is dancing
through his fingers on guitar
moaning through his voice


6 March 2010

Verse Portrait 86: The Man in Malang

(central Java)

He stepped
from a shop doorway,

Our eyes held.
Then I was past
in the taxi.

A fair woman,
considered beautiful

And he
lean, dark,

Not Indonesian.
Too tall, curly-haired ...
a mystery.

That was all
until, back home,

These men missing,
believed dead.
He, centre photo.

Portuguese engineers,
East Timor take-over

Already escaped
that day?

and went
back ... ?

5 March 2010


A crow called, once, unseen

I saw white ibis flying,

outstretched, spelling

And this morning

a sweet chortling at first

In these mountains, we recover

3 March 2010

After the storm: February Tanka 2010

wet sand gets kicked up
as the dog runs towards me
where I stand my ground
it circles and skirmishes
then dashes back down the beach


Did it happen? No,
I dreamed it. Then I wrote it
as a tanka. What
does it all mean? Whatever
you may choose to make of it!


his yearly heart check
I drive the rainy highway
drop him off then search
half an hour to park in mud
his check-up my stress


after the storm
the morning air is fresh
we open wide
the doors to the garden
a soft breeze for breakfast


shadows fall
and the light on the grass
starts to shrink

it is the clouds massing
behind your departure


Streetlamp and moonlight: haiku for February 2010

the long drive home
lit by the long dusk
of deep summer


cat-shrieks outside
then my girl on the top step
calmly alone


streetlamp and moonlight
palm trees clear against the dark
the neighbours asleep


the whole street sleeps
except me up late
writing haiku


'The streets are water'
they always said of Venice,
but I walked the lanes.


rain leaves us humid
wet with perspiration
needing a shower


cool evening
after the humid day
stinging insects


it plays in my mind
all day, that lonely music
I heard in a dream


the cats are quiet
the man sleeps and I’m restless
in the white noise hush