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

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.

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

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!

Graphic from Rooweb Clipart / CC BY 4.0

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.)