Early and Late

(Fire, then ice)

Initially, passion shocked 

my mouth open,

made my toes 

curl tight, uncurl….

Finally, your touch

in its lack

chills my skin,
slows my blood.

A belated attempt to respond to the recent prompt, Micro Poetry ~ Fire and Ice, at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. 
Also written for THE POETRY OF THREE, Three Words Per Line on facebook. 
And linked to The Tuesday Platform for 30 Jan. 2018 at "imaginary garden with real toads".

January Moments

In my dark garden
wind chimes clang faintly, I breathe
the smell of the sea.

Steamy nights

on this tree-thick hill;
my grey cat 
sits silent 

on the top step, keeping guard

while we toss in heat.

Like my cats

the plants are very still
this hot morning.

The heat revs up
as the morning brightens.
What time today
will humid rains kick in?
Summer at full throttle.

Downpour.

At last a bud
on the rosebush.

Quiet –

the rain pauses
waiting.

Trying to come up with a poem for the new year, and uninspired, I looked through several years of micropoetry written in January, selected one from each year (with a bit of tweaking to some, on seeing them anew) and found that they could be read as a sequence. 

Petals and Thorns

They burn, oh!

my petals burn

light has elapsed 

only these briars

glow eerily now

the setting sun

reddens the thorns,

their pointed tips

in the garden –

a garden enclosed

in dying light –

my petals flame.

Written for Micro Poetry ~ Binding with Briars at 'imaginary garden with real toads', and for facebook's The Poetry of Three. (Inspired – loosely – by Blake's 'The Garden of Love'.)

Published in HAVE YOUR CHILL, July 2018.

Return Journey?

"How was it, coming back

after hard adventures

to normal?"

                     I've never 

known normal. My path leads 

ever on; a wild track.

Adopting an Older One

It’s really not complicated 

(though she is complex); it’s gradual. 

Over a year before she began to purr; 

closer to two until she learned, 

tentatively, to miaow.

This evening she gave my finger 

a tiny lick. Still I know – because 

she has taught me so – I must never

presume nor encroach. She makes all 

the running, sets the pace. It’s simple.

Written for Micro Poetry ~ Uncomplicated Things 

at 'imaginary garden with real toads' (10 lines)

Dark Emerald

The large green stone,

square-cut, was mounted

on simple gold: a plain setting.

I crept in often to gaze –

sitting at her dressing table,

tugging open the heavy drawer.

My mother must have known

it was my dream of beauty,
never told me it was only glass.

Written for Micro Poetry ~ Dark Emeralds at 'imaginary garden with real toads'.

What Would the Moon Want with Me?

It wants to make a poet, that's all,
and a dreamer who likes to be
near trees and water, somewhere
the stars too are visible at night

away from the glare of the city,
away from the ceaseless noise
and the difficulty of breathing. That's why
the moon always gazes so long in your window.

... And it all came to pass as foretold.
Thereby I know the moon loves me.





Written for And the Moon ~ Micro Poetry at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

Dear Love

Dear love,

when you left me

you did not leave me.

Now I am bound to my house,

where your voice 

murmurs from corners

and sometimes I look up

to catch your face,

your same old smile.

Dear love.

Written in response to The Cross-roads ~ Micro Poetry at 'imaginary garden with real toads'.

Title: I explore & examine my totems so as to create #poetry – which I'll post on twitter, that is I'll tweet – each one called a #poetweet

First I #poetweet Owl, 

my Left-hand Guardian

connecting me to the dark,

penetrating mystery

with clear incisive sight

an advantage for #poetry

My Right-hand Guardian is Serpent

for Cunning (Owl's Wisdom)

giving day/action streetsmarts and 

the Healing I want in my #poetweet #poetry

Last, Great Mother Spider 

childhood terror / lifelong totem.

Protector. And Weaver 
good for a maker of #poetry,

blessing my every #poetweet

Note: Each aforegoing #poetweet was written in response to prompts from 'imaginary garden with real toads' & dVerse, playgrounds for #poetry

[And a further note just for readers of this blog – the hashtags have to be within the 140 characters, so for this exercise I needed to include them in each tweet. Because, yes, I have tweeted all of the above, including Title and Note. But not this bit.]

After the Election

After the election

I wake reluctantly

to a cold morning.

Out there, kookaburras

are laughing harshly.

Erotic haiku / senryu and tanka: February 2016

your strong body
in my arms again –
you fill me

***

the smell
of your warm flesh
and the taste ...

***

a long time
between drinks – here now
I drink deep

***

you uncurl
and stretch your long limbs
exposing
the magnificence
I love to stroke

***

no need for touch
the mere thought of you
and I flower

***

I lick your skin
your nipples harden
I feel you swell

***

your hand stroking
my breasts and belly
heating my blood

Bits and Pieces

Some micropoems from my files, which it seems I haven't posted here before (arranged in alphabetical order by name of form, not by date of writing) –

Erotic haiku:

our soapy hands

as we shower together

slip and slide

1/8/15

he bends his head

I stand on tiptoe

our first kiss

3/8/15

(No need for curiosity, dear readers; there's no-one new. I write my erotica these days from memory and imagination.)

Gogyoshi:

so many clouds

plump and round

and apparently rollicking

over their big blue meadow —

kids in a playground

2/8/15

Senryu:

cold morning 

waking to back pain

and cat on bed

21/8/15


aqua-aerobics

I float in warm water

emerge wiped out

23/10/15

Tanka:

the rain stops

the stars are still dark

blanked out

the night’s loud silence

pierces like a scream

7/5/14

Even with 

the toy teddy bear 

beside me,

I fail to sleep –

until I clasp it.

18/8/15

on holiday

I begin to lose me

in the new

until this morning

I make a poem – ah!

25/8/15

I reach up

pull off and crush

a thin leaf

inhale the tang

of eucalyptus 

we do this 

starting in childhood

we Aussies

instinctively

breathing in home

26/8/15

like water

the light slants down

pouring

like silver rain

on your shining face

7/10/15

Tilus:

long grief, then all at once

I reclaim

me

9/6/14

the small cold days come down

I winter

lone

12/6/14

Linking to the Tuesday Platform for 1 Dec 2015 at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

Twelve American Sentences

First dark; lichen breathe after water — no wind; dawn on seed tendril.

Garden bough, bird can listen summer, the sun ancient and animal.

Warm vine when you cycle, happy gentle wild spirit: behold my bright.

River like light; lonely life with only winter cloud shade secret blue.

Quiet watch, grow shine above soft wild — feel fresh fall, to thrive how squirrel.

Soon spring, beneath deep almost air that will let cold blossom climb rock, root.

Sweet rose always why insect walk through leaves, tree breeze, thick mountain mosses.

Deep dawn blankets gentle flower garden; how shine stone or river rock.

You wander that summer sanctuary, grow happy — wet mountain moon.

Cover for love make prairie night sweet secret they see above wild cloud.

Bee murmur give bloom a soft rustle, as thick sun colour rose vivid.

Almost dusk here, bird watch — this daffodil and grass rest: green harmony.

The Sunday Mini-Challenge at 'imaginary garden with real toads' asks us to be inspired by the poetry of Marilyn Chin. Among others of her extraordinary poems, we were directed to her Twenty Five Haiku. I noticed they were in fact American Sentences, a form of haiku devised by Allen Ginsberg for Westerners — but with a vivid intensity I had not seen before in any American Sentence. 

Mine are not haiku (or even American Sentences) as I'm used to writing them — i.e. in-the-moment observations of the external world — and they are not meant as imitations of Chin's remarkable work. I am sill exploring the Magnetic Poetry site, so these are composed by selecting random words and using scenes from my imagination. This time I used the Nature kit.

14 Words for Love 2015

I've participated once again in this little exercise of writing separate 14-word pieces on love in the lead-up to Valentine's Day. Below is my collection. See others at the website. I am submitting this series to the Tuesday Platform at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

Not your death pains me

but your pain before that.

It’s my love hurts.

******

Our shipboard romance

long ago becalmed

still floats sweetly in memory

which is kind.

******

Though you leave, you stay

forever in mind and heart

which never leave you.

******

I remember your eyes

the blue-green of the sea …

I drowned in your eyes.

22/1/15

Pretty in pink,

my dear old Aunty

in her photo.

I recall her warmth.

******

My friend's voice on the phone.

At once I breathe in,

relax and smile.

******

Across miles of air and ocean

I reach to you,

grasp your virtual hand.

******

Will you ever return?

Look for me in memory,

wait for me in dream.

******

In soft morning light

your head next to mine.

Your eyes open, you smile.

28/1/15


The birthday you had

this last lifetime

arrives again.

I toast you

in coffee.

******

Last thing at night,

thoughts of you.

First thing on waking,

thoughts of you.

First thing on waking

thoughts of you,

last thing at night

thoughts of you.

*****

It’s Lughnasad here.

What a harvest I reap
from our season together,

Bright One!

4/2/15

Because your face is yours,

I find it beautiful --

or, your beauty finds me.

******

A glimpse.

Someone who looks like you.

But after all

no-one

looks  like you.

5/2/15

Between kisses

we laughed together.

That was in

another lifetime.

Now I cry alone.

******

Unrequited love

is also sad

for the one

who cannot requite,

and must hurt.

6/2/15

Old friendship long cooled —

but when we met

in last night's dream,

we kissed.

7/2/15

My Answer 
(14x2)

'What direction shall I go now?'

I ask the oracle stones

I made myself.

Scrabbling deep,

ha! — I pull out the one

on which I drew a heart.

7/2/15

Such tenderness I feel,

seeing the back of a head

that might be yours.

******

Thought I'd lost you

but memory retains all your details;

that loss is impossible.

8/2/15

A handwritten letter

sharing your day,

and I am with you

in quiet delight.

10/2/15

The smile in your eyes

when you look at me

is reflected in mine.

******

Love is also

being glad you’re gone

away from discomfort

and this trying weather.

11/2/15

Valentine’s Day. I wave

to my three old husbands

(and sundry lovers)

in Heaven.

14/2/15

The friends who hold your heart

may warm it a long time,

outlasting lovers.

15/2/15

Ghosts Blow Me Kisses — random micropoetry 2014

(tanka / haiku / two lines / gogyohka)

after so long

we exchange pleasantries

as if normal —

as if years of coolness

were only imagined

13/5/14

loverless

I write erotica

why now?

10/6/14

Who loves me?

Ghosts blow me kisses.

11/6/14

saying goodbye to her

evening shadows fall

8/9/14

striped by sunlight
her purring form
remembered

13/9/14

Sydney

in climate change summer —

and she wonders

if she should buy a fan!

(Been living in England.)

1/11/14

the mystery of tea —

almost

I could forsake coffee

(after reading haiku in praise of tea)

3/11/14


Linking to Poetry Pantry #273 at Poets United.

Moving in a Trance: Erotic haiku and tanka, October 2014

moving in a trance

I gaze down

catch his eyes dancing

3/10/14

my friend poses naked
with copies of our book
flesh overflowing

Promotional pic for SHE TOO

11/10/14

the scent

of fresh peaches

I succumb

***

their flesh

yields to my touch

ripe peaches

***

I watch

his long fingers

caressing a cat

***

he is leaving

the sun

shines on his hair

14/10/14

thoughts of you

my breasts

thrust forward

16/10/14

the phoenix

rises fiery hot

and I melt

in proximity —

so our lust renews

23/10/14

the naked poet

revealed within these pages —

oh, open the book!

***

eager fingers

unwrapping  her cover

find poetry

More promotional pics for SHE TOO

24/10/14

alone

with memory and wish

I imagine

29/10/14

First Steps on a New Path

We four women, old friends and new,

drove to the Castle in Spring sunshine.

‘You are a Way Shower, aren’t you?’

said my newest friend, making me glad.

We stood in the smoke from a big pot

of burning eucalyptus leaves.

The Elders told us the true history

passed down through the grandmothers.

‘We came from the stars, but we were made

here, long ago, the first people.

‘This land is far more ancient than you know

because you have been told lies.’

The custodian of the land we stood on

declared us adopted.

Now we too have responsibilities
to the land and to the truth.

We all closed our eyes while Priscilla sang
the Song of the Beginning.

31 Poems in 31 Days (from Poewar / Writer's Resource Center). Prompt: syllabic verse.  Each verse of this poem is a 17-syllable 'American sentence' (a form devised by Allen Ginsberg) divided into two lines. I am also trying for something I call 'ghazal-type' in that it's somewhat discontinuous, with gaps in the narrative, like a ghazal (indeed a quasi-ghazal). Hence this is my 'ghazal-type 17-2' invention. (I already invented 'ghazal-type 17-3' — and yes, I know it's a cumbersome label, but at least it gives some indication of what it purports to describe.)

Our Shadows: Erotic haiku September 2014

our shadows

cast by the lantern
rise and fall

******

smoke tendrils

curling past my face

his long hair

******

moving in rhythm

lost in the rhythm

we are the rhythm


These were written as separate haiku, but they refer to the same occasion and could be read as one poem.

I am submitting them, on 22 Feb. 2015, to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #240.