The Last Small Stone

I dislodge the last small stone

and toss it into the river, knowing

as January flows into February,

so the tides of life

lap against new shores of opportunity.

In this city of Christian affluence

separated from the flock

he awakes on the sunstriped boardwalk

imprisoned by loneliness

in a damp canvas sheet.

Too late

At the clearance sale
bargain hunters sifted
through the residue
of his mother's life

much later

he thought of the dignity
of a post funeral pyre.

The koala rocks

Against a lullaby of highway music
the koala rocks

gently, in the arms
of a grandmother gum.

Carpe diem

the sun smiles

in flashes of gold

capricious carp

seize the day

Australia Day

Australia Day



Glorified settlement and
shameful invasion

collide in celebration
and grief

past overshadows present
and taints the future

until all live as one
under the southern stars.

On looking up

clouds surf across a sea of blue
breakers crashing against the horizon

an inverse view

Winds of Change

Rain in summer
a steamy romance

until rain dries up
and passion cools

Autumn arrives
on winds of change.

Words lost to time

small stones slip through my fingers
like sand in an hourglass;
words lost to time

Underwater symphony

along the fence wire, clumps
of uprooted grass;
crotchets and quavers
of an underwater symphony

Grampians

Small stones bathe
in flooded rock pools.

Unreachable

I climb the hill
to see beyond the horizon;
unreachable.

At the clinic

At the clinic

blank faces of strangers
gaze into uncertainty

Black Velvet

rain dampens the nap
of a black velvet night

Essence of Life

discarded mango seed
holds the essence of new life

A promise in silver

clouds drape across the day
a promise in silver

Fashion

Holes in clothes, once shameful
an accepted fashion statement.

Can we expect the slap flap
of a sole coming free
to compliment the ensemble?

Nature's Cull

tomato bush broken by nature's cull
I mourn the loss
budding promise unfulfilled

Two Elders

the box elder droops
bowed by humidity

we stand side by side
two elders wilting

The Flood

For the third day, rain
drummed against roof tops
where families clung in hope,
and desperation
as new rivers rose
to snake their way
along urban roads, and in front doors
of the dispossessed
while the tom tom message of the deluge
implored all to flee
to higher ground.

Suspended Sentence

Magistrate's Court
dressed in his father's suit
the young man nodded
eyes shut against involvement in life.

Suspended sentence.

On my desk

on my desk, two circles
one old, one new,
overlap
in caffeine overload
to form a configuration of copyright symbols
a reminder of the novel in waiting

The Visit

I awoke to his touch on my face
a whisper of love

that melted away with my tears
on his empty pillow

I sleep, I dream, I wait
for him to come again

The Poet's Boneyard

My desk is littered with paper scraps
hieroglyphically etched
in creative enthusiam;
a folly of words, incomplete,
beginnings without end and
concepts cast adrift
by the incoming tide of new thoughts.
I place them in a tray labelled,
the poet's boneyard
for future salvage.

Waiting

a blank card waits
for words of greeting,
my pen idle
in the pause between thoughts

Early Morning

the sun and the breeze
meet between the gap in the blinds
caressing my eyes to wakefulness

The Last of the Locusts

The last of the locusts
floats in the bird bath
I build a bridge

sepia photographs

sepia photographs fade with the years
and memory dims to an empty frame
a metaphor of having been

Signs

a fallen branch
in the quiet of dawn
the only sign of a turbulent night

On Pomonal Road

from blackened trunks of another summer
a fringe of leaves shoots spears of green
to form a wreath of triumph

a rosella smiles

through leaves of green I see
the crimson flash
of a rosella's smile