June 22, 2025 · 2:36 pm

solstice – calling back the sun

Dry, leafy branches, not woodshed-worthy,
and last summer’s Christmas tree,
fling sparks bright as tinsel,
to be lost in an instant
against a solstice sky ink-washed by the rising night:
azure to sapphire to indigo to black,
finished with stars scattered like dust,
that scoff at our circle of firelight.
We will find them in the morning,
spread in a glittering white carpet
that doesn’t reach the still-warm embers
and is soon evaporated by the strengthening sun.

Thank you to the anonymous commenter on my last poem, for the image of the inking in of the evening.  🙂  

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June 17, 2025 · 5:42 pm

rambling

Walking with little Muttmutt in the glooming
(no, not the gloaming,
gloaming is a summer phenomenon,
when the night rises like dark water from the valleys and gullies,
carrying the golden hour like pink foam,
pushing the day ahead of it
over the hills
(and we are surprised that it is already well past dinner time,
the children should be in bed)
where it quickly circles around,
to surprise the night from behind
and push it back down into the gullies
under the moss and rocks and fallen logs.
No, not gloaming.
In the winter there is only the glooming
when the day fades
light seeping away like water into sand
(and we check our watches and wonder how it is so dark,
but still hours to dinner time)
leaving the night,
that was always pushing close behind the day
in possession of the hills again.
But apologies, I am rambling.)
Walking with little Muttmutt in the glooming,
listening to the trees creaking like doors,
I think that I would like to write a poem.
Because it has been a long time,
and I feel words stirring
so I pick up my pace up the hill toward home.
But, home again,
I should bring in some wood before it gets too dark,
and light the fire before it gets too cold,
and feed little Muttmutt, grumbling in his armchair.
And besides, what is there to say about the glooming anyway?

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May 23, 2025 · 4:51 pm

fall fashion: pink gumboots, yellow raincoat and red heeler

Autumn arrives barely in time to leave.

Three cold nights,
to turn the leaves red and gold
then,
finally,
enough rain to dress up for:
splendid in (every year’s) fall fashion
(pink gumboots and yellow raincoat,
my companion in orange fur)
we promenade along the creek
little Muttmutt dancing around my feet
nipping at my ankles to herd me along,
when he isn’t leaping in and out
shaking a spray of water over me
(always, always head to tail,
finishing with a tongue-lolling gormless grin)
and leaping in again

Muttmutt makes a tactical error,
leaping into a clump of reeds
(not, as he thought, a grassy island)
sinking out of sight
before his shocked face emerges
and he dog-paddles frantically to the bank
(I wish I was faster with the phone camera)

Back up the hill, little Muttmutt rides shotgun
filling the car with wet-dog fug
and decorating the upholstery in paw-print
that will need to sponged off later
(it won’t be, it never has been before,
because paw-print should be timeless too)

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January 30, 2025 · 2:16 pm

you, crow

For the dVerse prompt “Tuesday Poetics: The Optician’s Words“, which was to use one or more 4 word sequences chosen from a set of sequences, in the order given, as used by opticians. 

you,
crow –

I hear you, crow
cawing out your verse-less song,
that ugly chorus of curse-calls
mirthless, melody-less

I see you, crow
you bird-shaped hole into a lightless hell
carrion eater, egg stealer
consumer of life exhausted and life renewed

beware, you crow,
of a well-aimed stone
that will leave you as carrion-feast for your brethren,
crow

 

The 4 word sequence I chose was crow – verse – see – renew, and as you can guess I am not a fan of crows (or ravens as they most likely are here) because they steal eggs and kill chicks in my chicken coop.  

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January 28, 2025 · 5:29 pm

dog days

For the dVerse quadrille #216 prompt “can you take a hint“

  

in these dog days not even the dog wants to go outside
the chickens stand panting,
beaks open,
their wings akimbo like pugilists
and the garden is limp, at best,
at worst,
crisp
and still no hint of relief
in the relentless burnished sky

 

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January 16, 2025 · 12:59 pm

on the margins – violet snails

For the dVerse prompt “diving into margins“. Dora asks “All I ask is that you use a type of margin as the springboard for your thought or in passing.”

 

sea-side up, sky-side down
in a paper-thin shell
hidden from from above, hidden from below
we drift on the interface
of air and water
until currents carry us
and tides strand us
at the triple-point
where earth, air and water meet
and we are stranded
on the margin

Teacher that I am, I can’t resist adding a short explanation here. Yesterday at the beach there were lots of violet

 snails washed up. These fragile little molluscs live their lives floating on the sea, eating blue-bottles (stinging jellyfish). They use counter-shading for camouflage. One side of their shell is dark violet, the side that on any other snail would look like the bottom, and this side faces upwards camouflaging them against the sea from birds. The other side, that looks like the top, is pale mauve, and faces downwards so below they look like sky to any hungry fish. You can read more about them here.

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January 10, 2025 · 11:42 am

watch the flames: a palinode

Written for dVerse “MTB New and Old in a Palinode“
The requirements are:
2 verses (numbered or even subtitled), minimum of 9 lines per verse, equal number of lines per verse
one verse holds contrary views/feelings/proposals/arguments etc to the other
meter and rhyme is optional
and use one of the quotes provided as an epitaph.

It’s currently bushfire season in Aus, and we keep a close eye on the “fires near me” app for fires in our watchzone – so far so lucky this summer. We’ve been shocked and horrified to see the fires on LA on the news and my thoughts are with everyone affected there.

 

“It needn’t be tinder, this juncture of the year” Conor O’ Callaghan – January Drought

1. Old
Baubles scatter flecks of light,
over a charming Christmas scene
lit by the candles, burning bright,
tucked among the branches green.
Choose your candle, choose it well:
the length of time it stays alight,
your fortune for the new year tells.
So keep your candle in your sight,
and watch the flame burning bright.

2. New
We watch the flames burning bright,
forests, farmland, all alight.
This is the future the flames foretell:
smoke-hazed days, red moon at night,
a landscape turned into a hell.
Our choices have delivered this scene:
blackened stumps, burning bright,
what once was pleasant, calm and green,
is embers scattering flecks of light.

 

 
Once I’d written the first few lines, I thought I’d keep the rhyme going, then reverse it in the second stanza. Great prompt Laura, thanks!

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December 31, 2024 · 11:38 am

NYE 2024

Throw out the old year with the Christmas tree.
Sweep the floor of its needles
and toss them out the kitchen door.
Throw open the windows
so the buddleia scented breeze
can dry the old year’s tears
and carry in the kookaburras’ laugh,
to chase away the old year’s fears.
Pour a libation,
and cleanse the sky with fire,
to burn away the last
of a year that wasn’t good,
but could, in fairness,
have been worse.

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December 30, 2024 · 3:38 pm

the disappointment of dogs

little Muttmutt gives his special echidna bark –
high but not shrill
emphatic but not hysterical
and, most certainly, impatient,
for it has curled into itself
and holds him at bay

he has done his job,
found the quarry and driven it to ground,
and is waiting for me to do my part –
but as always I fail him,
and his reproachful look clearly says
that I have broken
the thirty-thousand year old deal
between dog and man
and he is disappointed in me

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December 1, 2024 · 2:36 pm

Nove Otte: December 1st 2024

For the dVerse prompt “poetry form nove otte” by Grace. A nove otte has nine 8-syllable lines with rhyme sequence aacbbcddc, and the suggested themes are November, endings and beginnings, and giving thanks. 

 

Spring has walked out in a fury –
slamming the door behind her, she
tosses her petals to the ground.
Good riddance! Summer shouts, her words
echo from the hills, scatter birds
bring tears from Spring’s attendant clouds,
who, in dismay, cry the sky clean
to burnished blue that sears Spring’s green.
So seasons change as Earth goes ’round.

 

Today is the first day of summer in Australia, and after a hot, dry spring we had thunderstorms and finally some rain yesterday for the last day of spring.

Thanks for the prompt Grace. I didn’t meet the MrLinky deadline, but I enjoyed the challenge of writing to a form.  🙂     

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