We walked here,
you and I
along the avenue
dearest uncle.
We spoke of days
long since gone…
You took me
to a place
where you were young,
your heart was strong.
You asked to to take note
of every little thing…
It was your favourite place
where once you had a wine cellar
just beyond the ancient trees,
you shared bottles with the Baroness
and laughed many afternoons away.
A tear rolled down your cheek
as you hugged me close
knowing
this would be the last time…
Pigments and water
Ochre, sienna, ultramarine
and red for emphasis
swirl together
to make a corner.
Copy new text
from document,
paste, control P,
won’t paste,
click on clip board,
a blank window
paste it there,
that’s better
it appears,
now save,
to main form,
done, exit system;
“Are you sure you want to exit?
All unsaved changes will be lost.”
Save again
just in case,
right, now exit,
and again it asks
“Are you sure….?”
Yes! I am damned sure,
you aren’t helping
my to do list shrink,
so exit please,
please
computer don’t say “No”,
don’t ask questions
coz I’m done!
I perch precariously
beside a rouged young parrot
with a heavy belly
full of summer’s bounty,
her discontent oozing,
her abundant bulk swamping me.
Extra tinted eyelids
hood her eyes,
staring straight ahead
she clears her throat
as I lean back and cross my legs,
she clears her murky throat again
rubs her nose, leans into me…
She knows I am aware
but really doesn’t care.
This poem appears in Frog Croon, Literary Anthology, Issue 3. Please click here to see the rest of the issue.
Ruby mouth and sapphire eyes,
Their faces drink in every move,
Training helps her improvise,
Daring some to disapprove.
Their faces drink in every move,
Her satin virtuosity
Daring some to disapprove
Her lies of reciprocity.
Her satin virtuosity
Hidden in the mask’s cracked groove,
Her lies of reciprocity,
She has nothing left to prove.
Hidden in the mask’s cracked groove
A tender heart filled with fear,
She has nothing left to prove,
Facing herself, her last frontier.
A tender heart filled with fear,
Training helps her improvise,
Facing herself, her last frontier
Ruby mouth and sapphire eyes.
A pantoum for One Shot Wednesday, a place to share your poems
A gate stands proudly
telling the sun, wind and rain
it was made by human hands.
Sentinel trees stand
secure in nature’s portal space
beneath clouds fragrant with life.
Wet paper
red and purple
running
together.
Lots of water
adds a chance
element.
Trees
lack detail
in the middle distance.
Gaps
filled in
by eyes
make trees.
Racing now across the street,
Past the trams clanging bells,
Thinking of a place to meet,
Wishing for sweet forest dells.
Past the trams clanging bells,
Fleeting memories of childhood,
Wishing for sweet forest dells
With the scent of incense wood.
Fleeting memories of childhood,
Thinking of a place to meet,
With the scent of incense wood,
Racing now across the street.
Hazy city skyline
Constantly moving traffic
Bridge to a temple
Sandalwood incense burning
Wafting heartfelt wishes
Marousia 