Category Longer Poetry

by Marilyn Humbert Capertee Valley air is still. Insects scatter as we wander sun glazed sandstone escarpments. Hazy eucalypts along the line of sight draw eyes to the summit. Boots scuff roots, scrabble pebbles. Native bees hover above a patch…

by Marilyn Humbert Roused by the taunt of gulls bag and bucket shouldered they amble to the muddy trickle disowned by the high tide. Eager toes delve for pipis in gritty-grey sand below crumbling crags where the wide-eyed horizon overflows.…

by Tanya Dawes I go after my muse my Beatrice armed with a mustard seed a library and skull I peer inside my inkwell. At it’s frozen depths I sketch evil’s icy reflection write my way through the syntax of…

by Tanya Dawes We walked in silence Round the empty school yard And back. On my third try She let me take her hand. The streets were wide Angle parking both sides Footpaths lined with elm trees Centenarian trees Once…

by Rohan Buettel Two Tibrogargans on opposite banks; gorilla arms reach across, grasping with a steel grip — a Bradfield Highway anchored on the north cliff, a face of schist. In the south, a second pier prevents a twist. Observe…

by Jan Napier While I was out it hatched split and quit its chrysalis on a first leaf dull wet wings folded to a thorax boxy and squat. lumpen stubby moveless till moonlight wrote silver on russet limned antennae fanned…

by Jan Napier bucket upturned. ash cloud. flue open. a match to crosshatched kindling, violet white flame lizard tongues twigs. chimney trickles blue. ceramic portals pried aside, another chunk thrust among the half-charred. kettle set to one side wisps. porridge…

by Earl Livings That dazzle tree down the path with its reels of red flowers, roots that cling, sap that flows past robust rings of heartwood, green that springs from light, turns to light, is one note in the wild…

by Earl Livings After a day of grey listless clouds and drizzle that fades and returns, a plane tree, with green, orange-yellow, copper-brown shrivelling leaves shimmered by streetlights— a roost for small black shapes. They are bickering, scolding, chatting, swooning,…

by J F Garrow Just some light is coming through the windows of this church where Some of them are sitting: some of them just sitting in the lights Of the windows of this church here. And also, there’s St…