Poems
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Mid-Autumn Mooncakes
By Eileen ChongIt's nearly mid-autumn. I spy the tins
at the Asian grocer's - gaudy red peonies
unchanged for forty years. Of course
I buy the mooncakes with double yolks: -
Silvo the God
By Rae Desmond JonesPerhaps there is such a thing as a national psyche,
Even when the world is trussed like a turkey
In satellite bands of electronic steel
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The Bridge
By David FalconThe arch, the webbing, the pylons
The rattle of trains across the void
The dark grey paint
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My truth
By Rae Desmond JonesSits quietly in the corner,
Painted hands clasped on her lap certain of who
she is,
As the party swirls around her. -
Fire season
By Cecilia WhiteFlame trees are the first to etch the hot
blood of Summer onto a mother mary blue sky.
Their full red flags semaphore
the secret we all know -
Domestic Requiem
By Emily SimpsonI'm sure she didn't know
opening her eyes to that morning
that it would be her last.
She didn't know -
Poppies Make Me Happy
By Teri MerlynThe simple gift from a guest
A bunch of stalks with buds
Of promise peeping through
In shy slips of colour -
Virtual Romance
By Teri MerlynA contact, a request for attention
The sorties commence, to find who is real
This one strikes the right chord
In spare but lucid dialogue -
Woodford
By Jo GardinerI wake to the ringing of his blade
and find him carving in the autumn
garden. He's taken up the night's windthrow
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On Patrol, 1999
By Dave JordanThe shimmering horizon sits atop a vast empty ocean
near symmetrical trail of bubbles stretching out astern
our dark grey hull reflects ghost-like off the silky smooth sea
a constant lookout, an unrelenting vigil -
Jabiru
By John B. Fairfax, AOA season can change you
Like a lost wallet
As you sit sipping wine
Drowning thoughts in sunsets. -
Fluff
By Toby FitchMilling about the city's nightlife,
she threads through the quilted crowd
who rug themselves up, flattering
each others' leathers and wispy flair. -
Dedication To Cedar
By Ian CohenA young man once named Cedar,
Tall and beautiful as a young tree,
Next generation, Earth warrior,
Feral and free. -
Lu Xun, your hands
By Eileen Chong"But as you look up and inhale the intoxicating smoke from your tobacco, can you spare a thought for those scrambling to find a way out of this nest of scorpions?"
- Xu Guangping, in her first letter to Lu Xun, 1925
Lu Xun, your hands -
Mr Pistachios
By Teri MerlynLike fruit out of reach
The sweetest nut
Is the one to be lost
The young man I never knew