Tag Archives: pied hill prawns

an hour after patting down the earth


Trains on the floor of your room

it would have found you, brushed
itself against your leg, plopped
down in the middle of the track. 

‘Mi-Yeow alive Daddy?’

You button your lip
hold deep breaths in your belly
and stare at the memory
of a bag in the ground.

Twenty minutes
on my lap
you hold back

my explanations.  Look up
occasionally, ask my eyes for

a change in the situation.

Until Mummy walks in 
and your whirring little mind
lets your heart burst
all your sadness.

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Winter moon

storm water drain
my feet catch
the moonlight 

fishermen cast
into the Winter moon
wizzzzzz

I went for a ginko walk last night up at Scarborough to watch the Winter moon rise up out of the water.  It was a spectacular sight.  A group of us wrote and shared haiku under direction from Brisbane haiku poet Graham Nunn.  Check out Thursday morning’s red moon and haiku by Graham over at Another Lost Shark

Brisbane’s pesky locals

For some reason this week there’s been some poetic interest in the feral, good for nothing, ugly, will pinch a chip out of your fingers, sings like my great aunty, local Brisbane birds (no offence aunty).  Here is a sensational poem called ‘Why do we hate the crow?’ by a new blog friend Gabrielle Bryden.  Click on the mp3 recording.  It is well worth it.

Lee-Anne Davie has been writing haiku and you’ll find this (as well as plenty of others) at Another Lost Shark Sandgate Ginko: Lee-Anne Davie

a lone ibis fossicks

in the mangroves

nothing

I had to laugh at the misfortune of the old ibis but there seems to be a great deal of sympathy out there.  Here is John Wainwright at MirrorMosaicOfSounds :

noisy bird

enticing me

no-one else

A stone's throw from Chermside (don't even think about it!)

 

For some unknown reason, I’ve been getting cosy with Brisbane’s ‘pests’ – I wrote this last week:

during smoko

collecting nearby twigs

tones down his aaark

And here is a ‘fresh’ Saturday sequence of my own:


early morning car park full of sunlight

 

at the truck stop

morning birds

pick at a meat pie crust

 

I guess there’s no rush…

a crow walks

across the road

 

each time another

joins the banquet –

magpies lift their song

 

Peace to the pesky Brisbane locals