Saturday, 18 April 2015

At what age

will I no longer care
what you think
about my skin, 
its scars and jowls,
the style
I keep my hair or 
clothes?

When will 
keeping house
give way
to pleasing self,
ignoring all the mess
and ingrained dirt,
newspaper tower
cascades
that lingering scent 
of mould?

Can I 
see the day
when I no longer
shower or
brush my teeth 
and food is
too much fuss,
when I 
won't leave the house,
avoid the Doctor
and the post?

Perhaps it is
today? 



Friday, 20 March 2015

Fair Game


Two women
believed it safe to walk alone.
A mother on her way from work,
the school girl in her local park.

In a camp for refugees
or the home for kids in need,
used for sex and abused
because they have no choice.

Children learn,
become the hunters or the prey
or sit apart and close your eyes,
do not speak of what you know.

Monday, 16 March 2015

The Sun Gods



Apollo, Mithras, Helios and Ra,
deep in my cells I worship them
as eyes and skin respond to warmth.

I chart their course across the skies,
shield myself from unknown dark
wrapped in filaments of light.

From tunnel to the temple's heart
each time a candle flame is set
an altar to the gods ignite.

Saturday, 14 March 2015

At The Ball



You look up to us
from the lens of 1922.
More than a room of faces
are the clothes you wear,
from all the lands
you once called home.

Their borders now redrawn
as empires are erased.
Your national pride
expressed in needle threads,
sustain a love of place
that another claims.



Thursday, 12 March 2015

  My book, published by Ginninderra Press, is available
  on line as an Ebook or hardcopy.

Sunday, 1 March 2015

Storm Dogs



Static
on the radio predicts the change
beneath what ears and eyes can note,
distorts the hourly list of accidents,
a politician's latest gaff and sport.

Wind beats
the tallest trees from hot flush still,
my laundry tub ennui, the sky turns sour,
I run to harvest washing from the line
before another lightning shaft brings rain.

The dogs
begin to shake at growling overhead
as if a pack of hounds had their scent and
no escape was close, my arms and lap
chosen second best, but who will I cling to.