Poems
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All the way from
By Fiona WrightSometimes a reorientation.
A different face to the sea,
sometimes you meet a city, neck bared:
they say that nothing has happened here. -
Nymphs
By C. M. Chadwickfrozen in row
but then crackle skin
peel of giggles
and slip off slip slop slip shod -
Icehouse
By Sarah-Jane Normana google search yields no images:
just the random upchuck
of search engines which
both surpasses and disturbs -
The View from the sold house
By John StokesA high, voice teetering
View this poem on The Disappearing »
A black and -
what we build, buckles
By Scott-Patrick Mitchellscrub succumbs, is scrubbed gone
. encroaching like cockroaches re
-fuse to die, we grout clean a line
. the periphery shines as we fence -
Two Souls Had Their Rendezvous
By Maryam AzamThe souls had their rendezvous: those who liked each other then, love here; those who remained strangers then, do not join here – Prophet Muhammad S.
The first time we met was not the first I swear
by the tumbling of light and dark in your eyes -
The Max
By Andrew Galan‘Cause Ramses Goo had the Leon Fear,
he’d had the Leon Fear since Gosford
when Battered Sav Gabriel
had laid the Max on Ramses Goo, -
Two Songs
By Martin Harrison1. “If I could turn back time I would”
Is there anyone who won’t judge me
for what I’ve done? It’s so like God
to do this to me. I’m turned into -
gulp
By joanne burnsfish and chips on the pier
at watson’s bay, or is it
calamari – something we
never ate in the 50s un- -
Fade Out
By Hamish WoodGhosts of ghosts. How
celluloid leaves a lingering shadow,
long after black has faded
through multi-coloured lights, -
Singular Voices in The Strand
By Paul ScullyEnvy prowls the highway-perimeter
Modest bungalows interspersed
in turn-of-the-century streets
California among the porticos and finials -
To The Girls With The Sledge Hammers To Cleopatra of Gondwana Land Sexy Ghoul Of The High Rise Buildings By Maximilian Draconious
By Joel EphraimsA blond one to visit I
The sleeping dragon of the TV guide scribbled title
At eleven thirty am after her painting class
This suburban Monday morning. -
Lucky Charm
By Virginia JealousThere's water in Lake George.
Been ten years, the locals say.
You're lucky, they say.
That wide, still lake -
The Disappearing Suite
By Kim Cheng BoeyThey hover on the edges, their voices haunting
the blue hour when the tide of memory recedes
and forgetfulness returns, washing over the ash-prints
of their passing, so faint, yet so fresh you can’t tell -
Golden Summer, Eaglemont
By Kate Middletonafter Arthur Streeton
Late afternoon amber falls across house
and far-off mountains, while shadow
forms a new perimeter. The human body -
The Ballad of Bubble & Squeak
By Michael Farrellbubble pops up in the living
room: shes been asleep for about
a week. where is squeak? where
is the sandwich she keeps by -
geographies: Broadmount
By Mark YoungOMG, the wharf's caught
fire! A flood has washed
the railway away! How
shall our new chilling & -
Shadow dance at Dorrigo Plains
By Tony LintermansRosewood, a tree that I have never seen
except embalmed in chairs, rises each night
in a forest of thick cries writhing
under bulldozer blades at Dorrigo. -
Mother's Lost Song
By Maureen O'KeefeMothers has disappeared never to be sung again. So who will sing mothers song this song
is ancient as the land itself. Mothers song has disappeared like a whisper in the wind.
Through sands of time this song echoed through a thousand years. It’s to me but a fading
memory but I still hear her singing in the wind. Her singing echoing through the des…
