Category Longer Poetry

by Ross Jackson How well can I imagine this real place— Oodnadatta? work with me… just Datta to the locals maybe that speck on a vast tawny rag seen from the window of a plane or from a wedged tailed…

by Peter Groves We may have scaled them, said that they are conquered, measured and accounted for but it is beneath them we live. Beneath them lies our history. Beneath them we have tried to order nature to pursue our…

by Glenn McPherson Escaping light like a torch shone From inside the dark cavity of a skull – The city at night. Dreaming teeth out And other, less satisfying anarchists Our husband bodies Nudge against something hard, Harboured as they…

by Colleen Keating It is a new story this morning trekking the sand dunes of Karagi Point. The air elated by insistent flapping wings and constant chirping. In past summers the air muted diving to protect the young less with…

by Gerard Lewis-Fitzgerald Saving one’s own is like saving a chunk of yourself. Son clambers to safety while I cling to boogie-board, a plaything now for Poseidon, swept in a graceful arc, buoyed like a cork, a barnacle adrift, shark…

by Colleen Keating Bursts of yellow, red grevilleas, white hakea, others I cannot name weaving in and out of pink clover grasses, dandelion, daisies. They’ve blown in through time and toil to edge cliff ledges it has pounded for millennia.…

by Kim Waters The sea foam ebbs and flows – Whisked egg whites dolloped Along the scalloped edge of the shore. But no! It’s not water wash. It’s a flock of sanderlings gliding Like surf-skaters over the sand. No! No!…

by Mitch Browne Cast me from the Tallawalla lookout, so I can become there, and you can visit. Flowering gums hang snakeskin bunting. Parrots preach Eocene through the mist. Bowerbirds stage a blue revue as a fox tail flares then…

by Mitch Browne What forgotten fables live still within this ancient tract, flexing in the shadows, unfurling in neglected wends, sliding serpentine round the edges of our vision, dancing mimetic under vaulted crest, sinking from site on approach? What possibilities…

by Gregory Piko empty trees not a blackbird to be seen shimmering ice a few fallen leaves gathered by the lake the pavilion amid a ghostly vista empty trees a few fallen leaves the remains of autumn figure skating swirl…