Poems to Wear

a mauve mist
on a boatless ocean
I fold all hope
into the chrysanthemums
on my new kimono

Poems to Wear 2016, p. 84.

Some haiku

in-flight meal –
a kookaburra swipes
my fries - Windfall, 2015

tablet time ---
social media's
many bytes  - Windfall, 2014.

bush poets the overflow of Clancy - Prospect #5, 2015.

shiver of leaves . . .
the equivocal stance
of a deer - Kokado  2015.

distant hills...
the artist running
out of blue - The  Edge Anthology 2015

first spring day ...
birdsong unravels
my knitting - Cattails January 2016.

sanding
the knots that tie him
to his job. - in Cattails January 2016.

first school day ...
the wagtail's turn
for show and tell  - in Cattails January 2016.

moon-shadow...
facing the silhouette
of what comes next -  A Hundred Gourds  5.2, 2015.

spring cleaning
I grab a sunbeam
to polish the brass - Presence 54, 2016.

chocolate bunny . . .
so hard to remove
your silver foil -  Kokako 24, 2016.

abandoned cat . . .
the return of springtime
for a homeless man - Cattails May 2016.

air on a g string  . . .
the scribbled manuscript
of a thrush -  Frameless Sky 4, 2016.

whetstone . . .
in the carpenter's eyes
a hint of steel   - Presence 55, 2016.

Some recent published haiku

winter's fingers . . .
the blue tongue lizard
tucked up tight

flying fox night . . .
a few chirps left over
for morning

in-flight meal –
a kookaburra swipes
my fries - Windfall, 2015.

tablet time ---
social media's
many bytes  - Windfall, 2014.

bush poets the overflow of Clancy - Prospect #5, 2015.

shiver of leaves . . .
the equivocal stance
of a deer - Kokado  2015.

distant hills...
the artist running
out of blue - The  Edge Anthology 2015

first spring day ...
birdsong unravels
my knitting - Cattails January 2016.

sanding
the knots that tie him
to his job. - in Cattails January 2016.

first school day ...
the wagtail's turn
for show and tell  - in Cattails January 2016.

moon-shadow...
facing the silhouette
of what comes next -  A Hundred Gourds  5.2, 2015.

spring cleaning
I grab a sunbeam
to polish the brass - Presence 54, 2016.

chocolate bunny . . .
so hard to remove
your silver foil -  Kokako 24, 2016.

abandoned cat . . .
the return of springtime
for a homeless man - Cattails May 2016.

air on a g string  . . .
the scribbled manuscript
of a thrush -  Frameless Sky 4, 2016.

whetstone . . .
in the carpenter's eyes
a hint of steel   - Presence 55, 2016.

bush stone curlew

bush stone curlew

burhinus grallarius

when the moon gleams silver white

I hear the bush stone curlew write

its piercing notes upon the night

bird as motionless as stone

when peril strikes your bushy home

you fade into the bark and loam

Ngamirliri, spread your tail

with fan-like wings through soils of shale

dance the story you bewail

wer-looo wer-looo ki-liri-coo

in cascades of nocturnal blue

let dreaming spirits follow you

for they can read that yellow eye

like topaz as your plaintive cry

shatters the silence of the sky

as you sign your autograph

on woodland habitat held fast

don't let this be its epitaph

____________________________________________________________

Recorded for the Bimblebox Art Project 2014

The Hard Facts

The Hard Facts

the rumble

of cantering cattle . . .

a kelpie's zigzag

two cockatoos

respond to the stock-whip

crows squabble

over a carcass . . .

the bank's ultimatum

sunset . . .

a landscape stretches

in the red

the hard facts

of jam on damper

campfire . . .

twin moons shining

from a mopoke's eyes

Hazel Hall

First published in The Canberra Times Panorama April 11, 2015, p. 18.

An Australian Christmas Carol

An Australian Christmas Carol

used to it, he is –

dog before the man

I like your dog, they say

today the black lab wears a necklet

of silver tinsel and a bell

below inquiring eyes

I want to stroke the silken nose

but say instead

looks like your dog's

ready for Christmas –

he doesn't flinch

who's that, he says

he's tall, assured, a man of the land

I guess he's known its hardness

you don't know me, I blunder

well I do now ‒

I'm Ross and this is Harry

he puts out his right hand

I drop my shopping

take it, warm and confident

okay with the world;

shaking seasons greetings into mine

somebody yells

hi Ross

hi Harry

and he answers with a name

he won't forget we met . . .

then they're off

to buy a gift for his grandson

dog leading man,

disappearing in the crowd

of trash n' treasure vendors selling Christmas

he doesn't have to wonder

where he's going –

he's following his star

Hazel Hall

First published in Kelen, Kit and Page, Geoff (Eds.), 2014, The House Is Not Quiet And The World Is Not Calm. Page 44.