gazette186

 Europa Poets Tasmania Gazette No 186 October 2019

Joe Lake, Sleep, acrylic on canvas, 30/40

Little Leaf

Little leaf

Where are you going

Far from bole, branch and bough

Tumbling all alone

On brave wings of umber

Currents and glides

Meadows and streams?

Unexpected the feeling

Of being lost, then found

Two little leaves

Far from bole, branch and bough

Two little leaves

Casting out to sea

Two little leaves

Dancing in the breeze.

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

Catherine Burton

Love Finds A Way

For so long I wished for this day.

The day our love would find its way.

From my heart into your soul.

My feelings are strong.

I had no control when that day came.

When I found you again.

We walked hand in hand in a small mist of rain.

First kiss, my heart was filled with love again.

For eternity I will spend making you believe.

You are the sole reason I breathe.

My life is yours, you’re everything I need.

Liz Matthews

Joe Lake, still life, acrylic on canvas, 30/40ption

At A Moment

All happenings pass

As a butterfly in flight

Before losing her wings.

You, Day, wipe

The pleasures of

Touch and sight

Leave me moonlight

That I may be bathed.

Let me watch

The bird suck

From the bell flower

And trees be shaken

From the showers

By an unseen breeze

That flows through

Dark and light

Let me hold

The ominous cloud

That hangs dripping

Beyond a hill

Then gently disperses

And the void

Is blue again

Let me hear

Children’s voices

At a moment

As breath-blown music

From a flute

And let me soar

As an eagle

Until you, Day,

Have lost your light.

Kathleen O’Donnell

Watercolour with wax relief, Kathryn Conlin

Painting With Words

A picture paints a thousand words

But what do poems do?

A thousand words can paint a scene

So here are some for you…

               The sun sets in so many ways,

               Its vision, like a dream,

               But verbalise this wonder now,

               As though it can’t be seen.

So close your eyes and I will wash

Sunset from my palette.

I’ll load the brush with adjectives

And paint for you a ballad.

               In your dark, the colours start

               To morph with your emotions.

               The distance, now a shallow arc,

               Is washed by mindful oceans.

The blends of cool cerulean wash,

Like fingers in a stream,

Will quickly start to activate

Like crackling fire and steam.

               This then gives way to the warmer sun,

               The sky is now alive.

               The spice of sparks that touch your face,

               Make senses start to thrive

A scent of mango paints the air,

A tang of citrus too.

Orange, lemon, flavoured flair,

The sky starts changing hue.

               The grey comes in as dewy damp

               Like mist on naked skin.

               The taste of fading rainbow cake

               As daytime starts to dim.

The butter-sun is melting now

And drips on your horizon.

Reflections form, like molten wax,

As coating on the ocean.

               All too soon the darkness melds

               And fuses with the virtual.

               No need to open eyes at all,

               As night-time now is mutual!

Kathryn Conlin

  

Veggies

It seems I can’t have a garden without weeds.

I have to weed before I sow my seeds.

Invariably there’s a shower of rain

And the weeds pop up again.

My seedlings and weeds vie for space.

Can’t they grow in some other place?

In my lawn would be a great spot.

Not in my garden! Thanks a lot.

Sometimes my veggies don’t look like they oughta

Despite me giving them food and water.

Yet the weeds are always good crops

My veggies are healthier than those in the shops.

Now I have to weed again.

Let’s hope there’s no shower of rain!

Robbie Taylor

Only A Plane

Your wings do shine of tin and glare

Yet nothing has the beauty or flair -

Of a bird with wings so soft and demure

We can see the style and marvel for sure

Of the soaring creatures with

All their features

A bird in the sky -

Oh my!

Krista

Margaret Court

Champion tennis player

Ill health

Is a pastor

Plot of trials and errors.

Took the path that healed her.

We all have choices.

We must eat healthy foods.

No smoking or drinking alcohol.

Good luck.

Yvonne Matheson

Party Girl

Brings my coffee, sheer delight,

Rages Saturdays into the night,

Tired next day, she smiles at the bar,

Gazes dreamily on things afar,

How many friends she might’ve lost and made,

Another shot glass where she laid,

Opened eyes and saw boyfriend’s face,

“Come on, girl, you’re a pyjama case!”

“Off you go, down covers, under,

“Then back to work and please don’t chunder.”

Eggs, scrambled, bacon, snags, oh my!

She still feels ordinary and wonders why!

“Have a good day,” to customer, she said,

Wishing all the time for sleep and bed.

Michael Garrad September 2019

Table Chat

I’ll come real quick…to clean your table,

More than that, I am not able,

Here are napkins to wipe your mouth,

Your other hopes are going south,

Your favourite coffee is on the way,

And more than that I cannot say,

For if I stay to stop and chat,

You might just think of this and that!

So when I say I might come again,

’Tis just with cup, menu pad and pen.

Michael Garrad September 2019

Perfume

Lives in perfume of fresh cut flowers,

No more trapped in day’s exist,

Close, unseen, feel her there,

Softly watchful in garish light,

And in the choke of smother black,

There, as if to breathe this same sweet air,

To sense secure warmth of safe embrace,

Smile that lingers in ethereal place,

Eyes a-sparkle in gentle sun,

And in the mist-haze of spring drizzle,

There, for me to lean upon,

To survive, to live every hard, long day,

Exquisite, exclusive in this personal union of realms,

She is here, in me and of me.

Michael Garrad September 2019

Self-loathing

Standing in my self-loathing

I feel my loneliness.

I feel my anger

I feel my pain.

Oscar Harding

  

Joe Lake, Dreaming, acrylic on canvas, 30/40

The Meteor

Last night we were watching television

As the house rattled and shook from the east.

I looked out the window. It was dusk.

I thought it might be the house settling

Or maybe a slight earthquake happened.

Judy told me that she saw a light.

I pondered. At the supermarket we were

Abused by a woman who thought herself wronged

As we cut into the line at the checkout.

The woman might have followed us home

And was now seeking some kind of revenge

By rattling the house to frighten us.

In retrospect, my thoughts were nonsense.

The next morning, my wife said that

A meteor had flown over Burnie

And social media showed pictures of it.

It occurred to me that the meteor

Must have been travelling at an incredible speed

To make the house shake and the air scream.

That night I saw on the television

The glowing ball streaming across the horizon

And then disappearing into clouds.

On the news that night, an astronomer said

That the meteor would be the size of a tennis ball

And would have broken up entirely.

Someone on television then said that

They thought Jesus was coming back.

 Joe Lake

Judy Brumby-Lake, Venus, (breast cancer)

Venus Victorious

Oh, Venus victorious,

You may not be like the Venus that people admire.

But you, through maturing

Or through a surgical knife,

May have had your body shaped

In a different image.

With the owl

You live your life by wisdom.

Judy Brumby-Lake

Natural Forces

Natural forces are at work today.

Trees moan, arched in battle with autumn moods.

Leaves whirl in motley amber cartwheel.

Seas heave in defiance of summer’s death

But all that concerns me is my long unruly hair -

Streamers in the wind.

June Maureen Hitchcock 

 lakej5263@gmail.com