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.

22 February 2017

A Place in Space and Time

Tonight Professor Brian Cox
is taking me to Venice – 
and I can't believe it's 19 years 
since I went there in my own body, 
and saw the glass-blowing at Murano too,
and visited Renaissance paintings
huge on old palace walls.

So many years ago and still so vivid!
The husband of my heart 
was with me then.

Now the long-limbed Professor,
laughing with boyish delight,
takes me up to the heavens –
the moon, the planets, the stars,
the Milky Way; the Earth from space
rising in a half-circle, swelling like fruit – 
an apricot, an apple ... but it's blue.

And I begin to think instead
of my blue-eyed husband – now an angel,
wandering the stars without me.


The title belongs to Episode 4 of the BBC's 'Human Universe With Brian Cox'.

21 February 2017

NaHaiWriMo week 3

 More attempts at one-line haiku and senryu written to NaHaiWriMo prompts 


Feb 15 Returning to

the further from it I get the more I return to my past

returning to the old house it appears smaller

returning to the place after long absence home is gone

I return in memory yesterday becomes today

I return to poetry always my first love


Feb. 16 Nature (something you can see right now)

among tall eucalypts dream-catcher workshop

frangipani in her hair / timber walking-stick

hilltop – leaves against the circle of sky

magpie picking at the grass red roses

miniature roses taller than planned

staghorn on bare trunk one chopped branch


Feb. 17 Moon

moonlight and ocean a girl walking in a blue dress

full moon above only one streetlight

full moon behind cloud leaks light around edges

who needs dreams? full moon in my window

keeping pace with our car harvest moon rolls long horizon


Feb. 18 Nature (experienced in another season)

winter street swirling leaves in dusty gutters

birds crowd my veranda rail spring rains

rain sets in – bedraggled birds shriek at my cat

my spring lawn – clover dandelion ibis feathers

garden after rain flourishing green weeds

autumn dusk dogs and children play in the street

early autumn more weeks between lawn-mowings


Feb. 19 Cherry blossom

old love letters falling cherry blossom

heat wave I remember cherry blossom

blossom-fall a change in the weather

white cherry blossoms I recall the tang of red juice

pale cherry blossom far away

throngs of blossoming cherries crowding cameras

cherry blossom hide the photo


Feb. 20 Nature (unique and seasonal to where I live)

late summer frangipani blooms thinning

later and later the cool breeze of evening

sunny early morning crisp mountain edges

midday the hot town empties


Feb. 21 Falling

walking with you frangipani flowers falling on grass

a falling feather lands in my path I remember you

falling together in laughter soft mattress

rising and falling we breathe in rhythm

your last heavy breath silence falling




19 February 2017

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'

17 February 2017

Regarding Doom and Gloom

There will be civil war in America, I heard it said,
and so I am careful not to blow on the sparks
with my own (foreign) rhetoric – or not too much.

It may well start with civil disobedience. I see
on facebook many friends’ anguished posts
and proud commitment to not shutting up

in the face of what they view as tyranny.
While others are bemused and then enraged
by such refusal to accept an election result.

I’m shutting up like mad, myself, not to offend
people I’ve always known as fair and kind
and, it goes without saying, intelligent …

nor yet to encourage others in divisiveness.
For who’d want civil war? Or do they not believe
it could really come to that? Everything else has come.

The parallels with Hitler and the rise of Naziism
are often drawn by the fearful and outraged.
And I recall, reluctantly, what has long been said:

it was the averted eyes and the silence
of ordinary, good people that allowed
horror to pile on horror, corpse on corpse.

I don’t live there, I tell myself. I cannot comment
on things that don’t concern me. I can’t know
the on-the-ground reality. I do not have the right.

Then, feeling a little sick, I begin to remember
that what stopped Hitler was the linked arms
of other nations standing firm and fighting.

There will be war, I hear it said, between
Australia and the USA, or even between the USA
and the world. Surely not possible! Surely not?

I put my head down, zip my lips; I hope it will all
go away. But poems will out, irrepressible as truth.
(Poor helpless things, both: changing nothing.)


Linked to Poets United's Poetry Pantry #341

16 February 2017

Valentine's Day Haiku

(well anyway, one-liners trying to be haiku)


rain falls on your long absence I don't forget

heat-wave my ardour increases

that café we used to like closes – cloudy day

the sun in the photo shines on your face – forever

you offer your heart – the taste of chocolate

remembering our first time you brought roses






Written for NaHaiWriMo 2017


Linking to Tuesday Platform 21 Feb 2017 at 'imaginary garden with real toads'

15 February 2017

My New Sparkler

It wasn't my favourite ghost
who gave me this ring.

Yes, he does come with me shopping
(invisibly) saying, 'Get yourself roses,’
or, ‘That’d look good on you.’

This time I went on my own
deliberately; browsed, chose,
and bought me
a self-love token.













Written for Quadrille #26: ghost at dVerse.
Also linked to Tuesday Platform 14 Feb 2017 at 'imaginary garden with real toads'
and to Midweek Motif: Love at Poets United.

14 February 2017

NaHaiWriMo week 2

A prompt a day. I'm doing one-liners.

Feb 8 Open

door opened after the heat – fine invisible rain

not open-minded so much as blank no haiku

stinking hot neighbour swears through open window


Feb 9 A mirror

I hold the mirror to the light - all flash no image

when that car in the next lane vanishes from your mirrors


Feb 10 Wiped

saw him off with a kiss closed the door wiped her mouth

wiped the mirror – her mother still stared back


Feb 11 Clean

clean desk – sign of an empty mind?

cleans the wall – fingerprints scrabbling to get into Mexico

dead spider – no insects in this clean house

rain-cleaned air – humidity restores sticky skin


Feb 12 It (use the word but don't say what ‘it’ is)

it rises we gasp perspire seek cold water

momentary breeze it falls white to the grass

is it a bird is it a plane, no it's ... too high to tell


Feb 13 Is (use this specific word in your poem, but try to be wary of introducing too much judgment into the poem)

weeks of over 40C global warming is

Goddess Isis is (not terrorISt)


February 14 A way (of)

small bright feather blows towards me away

finding a way into my closed yard – water dragon

cat under table a way of controlling thunder


Link: NaHaiWriMo on facebook

12 February 2017

Red Lineage Poems




At Poets United this week I am sharing a feature about a project by American poet and interactive artist Natasha Marin, which captured my imagination.

It is called Red Lineage. You can find out about it here, and also read her own poem which began it all. You can experience other people's contributions, both at that page and here, and you can participate yourself here. (Go to the "Explore' drop-down menu and select +Add Your Lineage.)

I wrote this Red Lineage poem some weeks ago, when I first came across the site:

My name is Redrose.
My mother's name is Soft Red.
My father's name is Lively Red.
I come from a people known for loving words.
Remember me.

(The ambiguity in the second-last line is intentional.)

Today I returned and found that she has added more spaces for us to write into, more possibilities to explore – so I created this one and participated again:

My name is Witchpoet Red.
My mother’s name is Fearful Red.
My father’s name is Remorseful Red.


I come from a people who are known for
adoration of language and delight in Nature.


After I go, I will leave my words scattered
like feathers, which may be found and kept
or be reabsorbed back into the earth.


Remember me.

(I have broken the longest lines of this into shorter ones. It seemed right to make the verse breaks, too.)

If you decide to participate, please enter your poems at the site; and if you post them to your blog, please link to the site.





(My rose photos are to illustrate my first piece. I like photographing roses and sharing the photos on facebook with wishes for love, peace and joy for all.)

10 February 2017

Tipsy Turvey

It was a rum do,
the way it all turned sour.
He thought it would be a tonic
to chaser round the desk
and finally tie one on her
straight up, or even
land her on her back
in a sudden tumbler -
but she damn well would twist,
proof against all the shots
he thought he was calling. 

It was such a spritzer
to imagine her 
thoroughly hammered.
'Wet your whistle,'
he thought to leer,
and her being stirred
by the dirty insinuation.

But it was his last call.
'Drown your sorrows,' she taunted 
before departing smartly,
leaving him severely shaken.
In her absinthe he obeys,
dejectedly gurgling the whiskey,
not even wondering what she meant 
by, 'Name your poison!'


Another one for dVerse Muse Mixology, using words from the following alcoholic list in a non-alcoholic way. (I'm happy to find out I wasn't restricted to 33 words after all.) But I missed the deadline so I'm sharing it at Open Link Night #189 instead.

shaken           stirred          rum          sour          whiskey        last call
elixir        on the rocks      straight up        twist        round         chaser
back        dirty          proof         tumbler           three sheets to the wind
tie one on         shots         hammered       tipsy           hair of the dog
absinthe          vesper        tonic          kamikaze         spritzer
tie one on       liquid courage       name your poison       drown your sorrows
wet your whistle