Just look up

Hear me cry
The sky is free
Rapidly shifting
Without the need
For New Year’s Eve
Or TnT
Just watch closely
You will see
Few steady hands
Can claim it
Laying pigment
To blank canvas
Just look up
Its beauty fleeting
Kiss of tears
Fall upon me
Chased by sunny smiles
Her face slips away
Into darkness again
Tender lover
Come back to me

Fields of imagination

Wandering endlessly through golden ripe
Fields of my imagination
Scenery, smiles and conversation
Willing the future to meet me 
Back at this dream's beginning
Until restless legs and chatting
Stop pining and whistling lips
Biding time 
Woken, surprised, I meditate
Grains of sand between toes
Waves evoking chills down my spine
Patient expectation 
Waiting, hesitating
Drinking in the glorious view
Standing right here before me
Opossum Bay, lutruwita / Tasmania

Entertain an idea

On a scale of bland to grand
Some ideas seize
By the hand

Come, willing thoughts
Let me lead down garden path
A humble thought experiment
The ingredients are us

Do you dance the tango
Salsa, ballroom or swing?

Be my partner on the floor
Do you mime or sing?

Would you go to Thailand
Egypt, France or NZ?

Do you prefer the seaside
Or mansion in the city?

Would you rather hike
Into the wilderness, or ride?

Perfect night out?
Or in, or both until retired?

The need to entertain
The needs of one another's

The clash of minds
Can give off sparks
Like New Year's fireworks

While if they coincide
Minds grow contented
As they are

These thoughts, kind companions
Never leave us alone
Frederick McCubbin’s ‘Lost’ (1886)

Shell collector

Centuries of sandy foot prints
Embedded in the shore
Sure steps leading to waters edge
Surveying the rip tide
Wading safely to peel
Tiny creatures away
From their silken kelp
Homes to adorn
Dining tables laced with
Filigree crochet
And tall stories
She places delicate treasures
On her window sill
To recall every
Underwater adventure
The hollow echo
Of the conch's curl
Beckons her to deep
Longing for more
Pearl shines in colours
Glint of eye and
Flash of teeth
Sandy skin soft hairs
Stand on end
As the tide
Her dreamscapes
Roll in

Tea for two

In fiction I would be
A tea and scones librarian
With a secret archive
The contents of which
Was derived from many
Hours of polite
How the mind
May wander
Is a marvellous
Thing indeed
L to R: by Jeff Mincham, Barbara Swarbrick and John Bartram ~ Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery