“I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.” ~ Vincent van Gogh

Wednesday, July 11, 2018

Pleasures of the Bathroom

Round like the full moon, shining white,
my newly installed fluorescent light.

Back Yard, July

Winter sunshine brings 
orange trumpet vines
curling and waterfalling
over my fence,
their tubular blooms
upthrusting, pointing towards
deep blue sky,
cold bright light.

Shared June 8 2019 at Poets United's PoetryPantry #482

Tuesday, July 10, 2018

Dragonfly in the Window

My friend Mickie (more properly Michelle)
gave me this blue glass dragonfly years ago
when I lived in another house
with my dear husband Andrew.

When we moved here, I hung it up high
in the soft light of the bathroom window
where its glowing beauty evokes 
memories of love and friendship –

A woman who lives in another State now.
We see each other sometimes, but seldom.
And the dead man who said that dragonflies 
would be the sign that he lives, in a different state.

A 'small stones' group on facebook is currently writing to the prompt, 'describe an item in your bathroom'.

Rescue Cat

Two years before she miaowed.
Still seldom and effortful, half-strangled.
She prefers to speak with her eyes
and body language. A focused stare, a nudge.

Only one year until purring began.
Sometimes, now, that lasts several minutes.

Friday, February 2, 2018

New-old haiku

I found this one in my files, written nearly two years ago on 24th February 2016 and not posted to a blog. (I think I was saving it to enter a competition which I then forgot about.)

ah! my skin cools –
reflections of light
in deep water

Sunday, January 14, 2018

My Name is Rosemary

"Never let anyone
shorten your name,"
said the Sage.
"You need Mary
for your strength."

And since then
I never have –
though, before that,
I liked Rose …
being a rose.

Mary. I ponder –
The Great Mother?
Or the sea?
(Rosemary means Rose
of the Sea.)

Mary the Mother
endured all things,
and was brave;
while the sea
is ancient, wild.

My namesake plant,
that resilient shrub,
has a fragrance
not sweet, but
faintly salt-tinged.

"Don’t," I say,
"call me Rose.
Friends call me
Rosemary." I smile,
and they comply.

Also shared at The Poetry of Three: three words per line on facebook.

In Fading Light

Cool evening, after
day's heavy heat.

I linger on
my top step,
for the breeze.

A faint rumble
might be thunder

or a car....

Linking to The Poetry of Three: three words per line on facebook

The Smell of Home

The smell of home is a gum-leaf, picked off the tree as I walk beneath, crushed between my fingers and held to my nose, deeply inhaled … then discarded. Plenty more where that came from!

Summer Driving in Northern Rivers

There is nowhere to stop.
This photo is just for me, 
in the camera of my mind. 

Above the mountain range, 
banks of thick, frothy clouds
echo the mountain shapes. 

I round a bend. On the hill, 
a stand of Norfolk Pine 
rises black against the sky.

(Where are you? Where are you? 
I want you here beside me, to see –
though you wander free ... 
and in tunnels of my mind.)