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.

28 July 2010


Coming back from Tweed
there is always that moment when
the mountains come into view,
the hills and mountains
that ring Murwillumbah.
Some of them have local names
and some of those have become official:
Sphinx Rock, The Devil’s Armchair,
The Pinnacle, Hospital Hill ...
and of course, presiding over
the whole span of the deep blue
Border Ranges: Wollumbin.
Ownership and name
are in dispute. Perhaps
they always were. Mt Warning
it’s often still called, a foreign name.
Some claimants say it looks like
a brush turkey, and it does and I
believe them, yet also,
wider and higher than all the rest,
it is mighty enough to be named,
as others say, for a warrior
and beautiful enough to be,
as only a few insist, a Goddess —
and it calls to me always;
it spells home, and always
the sight of it makes me
instantly happy.

8 Days of Happiness: 3 (2) / Six Sentences

(Late yesterday I came up with this extra piece which really belongs to that day.)

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