eileen's poem collation number XIV of the  index

That strange summer tingle

That inexplicable fluttering in the stomach

a feeling in the air almost like held breath

if you keep still and silent

you can almost hear something coming

not music

not voices

but a silent tension that heralds

and i feel if i wait long enough

something exciting is going to happen

to me

any second now

if i can just keep still and quiet enough...

although what i expect to happen at my age

i don't know

it happens at the begining of every summer

and I feel a girl again

full of breathless inexplicable excitment

where you know anything can happen

and will...

not sure I've managed to explain

what I'm trying to,

perhaps others know what I mean

anyway  despite the poem

not being particulary good,

do you ever get that feeling?

at the begining of summer

where you feel a teenager again

almost holding your breath

waiting for something magic

you know will arrive

if you can just keep still

and be open

no sugar

coffee grounds

with a dash of



thro my veins

breath held

 eyelashes flutter

like butterflies

under my kiss

one second flash....

those unspoken words

that show in the eyes

the things i love about my brother

we can talk about africa

a childhood spent

we can lay things bare

pretend not to care (too much)

we can reminise

leave out main events

give the o'er a kiss

yet get behind pretence

and of course there's Twinnings tea

Snail shell

You always take it with you

wherever you go

the heartache that comes from loss of dreams

from pain inflicted by lovers true

tailor made to exactly fit you

Down the rabbit hole

slowly withdrawing

fading away

soon there'll be nothing left

but my frown

like the cheshire cat's smile

turned upside down

I hammer silently on the glass

sunny parks busy with people

flying kites

and throwing sticks

sailing model boats

on rivers and ponds

or just lying on the grass

taking the sun

reading books

while lovers touch and kiss

I always feel

the invisible screen

between these ordinary things of life

and myself

slightly blurred

My daughter

my daughter

bound for slaughter

of the self inflicted kind

she bows down low

too low too slow

and buys herself

no quarter

ed. reply  to

is it?

It's kind of weird

I must admit

tho I've enjoyed

our close

it's also burnt

the honesty

has been a

toxic dose

we've laid bare souls

got it all out

this close is not

as put about

truth bites

truth has teeth

of that I'm sure

cos when it bites

bods bite back more


From time to time

attempts are made

to obliterate

what has been written before

and inscribe something

completely new

but the ur-writing

always shows through

and there we read

two inerasable

though contradictory truths

economic imperative

and the hearts affections


1: writing material (as a parchment or tablet)

used one or more times

after earlier writing has been erased.

2: something having usually diverse layers

or aspects apparent beneath the surface.


The shape of the number resembles some of the letters

used in arabic and ancient languages

that are not found in english

Maybe your poems did dream me...

I we did them have

better all the still

we sleep


so this love

A tree lined drive

the gate stood open

and dewy grass

is still chiffoned

with mist

till spring sun

weak and warm

goes to work

Make Fruitful

The world is

a stranger place

than you or I

can imagine

we must each


our own garden

The Emperor's new clothes

see him strut

see him preen

the nicest

he has ever been

but look too close

and you will see


the real he

I was walking on air till I look down

I move into some private space

looking for what brings me here

to this place at this hour

the church clock strikes midnight

bringing me out of my reverie

the last note sounds out across the green

rolling out beyond the sleeping cottages and farms

past the nearby meadows

over the silent flowing stream

finally fading to nothingness

in neighbouring valleys

outside I look up

brilliant stars shine down

on the dark unheeding village

I move on looking for what brings me here

to this place at this hour...

You really fucked with my head

Your the biggest

fraud I've ever met

though I don't doubt

your not done yet

all those years

you lied to me

taking advantage

I couldn't see

the lies you told

the games you played

if you'd come clean

would I have stayed

duplicitys extent

now clear

mocking everything

held dear

you go on now

with more fake lives

behind your smile

conceal the knives

why do I cry

I should be glad

now all is clear

I just feel bad

many dimensions

are here

whorl wind world

words will

ed. reply  to



around your wrists

once ruby drops against white skin

gift to yourself

testimony to a fragile beauty

they fade

you shine

scarred wrists from self harm

images of frog headstanding

on frozen pond

coming face to face

with water beetle

under the ice

bubbles stream


ed. reply  to

a universe gives birth

our universe gives birth

my universe gives birth

i give birth to my universe....

ed. reply  to

Irreversible processes

look at it

this poem


of it

no agitation

or dissipation

nothing of


what is this poem

nothing of


Down at heel

I don't think I can do this anymore

or want to

we cycle in

and cycle out

push and pull

against each other

spiral up

and spiral down

pull towards

repel against

contained by love

that barbed wire fence

I wrote the poem about a lover but realized

i have a daughter also....

love is a burden as well as wings

Down at heel

I don't think I can do this anymore

or want to

we cycle in

and cycle out

push and pull

against each other

spiral up

and spiral down

pull towards

repel against

contained by love

that barbed wire fence

andrew's  reply


one unlucky doe

her eyes full of tears

spill over

and show

ed. reply  to

Lol this one made me smile :o)

my family takes quite some assembling...

so fractured are we

but at Christmas

we manage something


ed. reply  to

You don't need to be  “fixed”

you are beautiful...





in your screams

my heart beats

ed. reply  to


We invent


for ourselves

to give our existance


the only result


to make ourselves

as fallacious

as the invention

When I post my dark mooded/ironic poems I often expect to be rubbished or ignored, Guess I'm not entirely comfortable with turning inside out in public Lol

Getting past it

Most of the time

I feel my old spirit

still rattling around

deep inside

but as a ghost

haunting my ruin

It was written in a melancoly mood last night
while thinking about getting old...;o)

it ain't kind is it the encroachment of old age...;o)
First it creeps and then it leaps...:o/ Lol

With the title, I wanted to give a dual meaning to it
as in getting old past it
and getting past the fact I'm getting old...

Getting past it

Most of the time

I feel my old spirit

still rattling around

deep inside

but as a ghost

haunting my ruin

True or false

Words are only

a vibration

of the air

however bitter

they leave

no trace

reply by  vijayalakshmi harish

the traces they leave,

sweet or bitter,

are naked eye visible,

they are felt

  by our innermost self!

True or false

Words are only

a vibration

of the air

however bitter

they leave

no trace



she is just luminous

with ready smile

and laugh

no one knows

that underneath

she is dying

on the inside

black as coal

is her soul

my dear

my love

my daughter

always was

destined for slaughter

I have a very cute, artistic, depressed daughter
that has always thought/wished life was like carebear land
I've always known she is too tender a soul...

it's not necessarily a sealed fate :o)
she does have an iron core
she just needs to learn to use that for self preservation
without becoming totally jaded...;o)

I do try to steer her thro the rocks
while encouraging her to keep her individuality,
She is slowly learning to be more self protective
and as she gets older seems to be
gaining some personal strength and self insight

she is very special,
unfortunately an aspect of that
is others do want to drain that dry
or in unwise choise of friends (which has happened in the past)
they knock down or try to, because she will always be that
(ed. carry the beauty and innocence )
and try to share it


Ivied brick

and ancient beams

icy draughts

damp wall seams

smokey fireplace

crooked floors

gaping holes

instead of doors

run down sheds

home for cats


fit for rats

There are a lot of turn of the century derelict cottages

dotted around the countryside here in Taz,

some on still farmed land

turned into hay storage space,

Tiny hand built and crude

they are amazing testimony

to how hard it was for early settlers here

as some are in remote cold places

that would have been extremely difficult

to farm and live in



fills her mouth

a paralizing numbness

courses through her veins

as if

she's bitten

a suicide ampoule

Death of a child

A lost child

takes you all the way

and beyond


no matter what others tell you

of hope

urge you to strength

you are already over the threshold

into the grey land of loss

of grief

of living death

feelings on being dragged back

from that land



happiness painful in intensity

compounded by bewilderment


at being returned to that state

where crossing that threshold

still remains

a possibility

When I was a teenager my mother gave birth to an unplanned baby

(a red haired girl) who died within minutes of being born (spina bifida)

it took her a very long time to  “come back”  

from an almost zombied state

Red light

young girl

crosses the road

wearing enough




to stop traffic

she knows


has no timetable

many a man

has an appetite

for more than a sandwich

at lunchtime

I was a bit hesitant about posting it

but when a poem comes

it arrives of it's own accord often Lol

written after watching a news segment

about Kings Cross

a red light district in Sydney Australia

The title was inspired,

hoping to give meaning of stop the traffic

  and also the district she was patrolling...;o)

Cottage Garden

Spring sunshine's loving glance

lights a respondent glow

in all things young

but she is not so kind

to the old

where man has been

exuberant nature is evidenced

in decline and decay

riotous hedgerows

unpruned trees

lank lawns

while nature prepares

to don Easter finery

the best you'll get from man

is shabby genteel

Thinking of spring as autumn closes in, never do catch up with all the pruning...;o)

Don't rush!

i fell

last week



cracked ribs i think

either way


oh how i


slipped on slick, wet, painted steps i've beeen meaning to fix with a rough surface for a few yrs...

our talks

im kind of hoping

all this excruciating


soul laid bare stuff

is leading us to a more honest place


i was writing something else and it slipped away

andrew's  reply

our talks

im kind of hoping

all this excruciating


soul laid bare stuff

is leading us to a more honest place


i was writing something else and it slipped away

one night stand

over night love affair

do i dare

shock pervades

i stare


too spare

averted gaze

electric shock!

there you are

why didn't i see you

bright star

i knew

so what now?

i'm just as trapped

by love

as you

what the Hell

are we going to do

in vain


you tell me you'll stop writing to her

although we both know

you will still read her blog

every day


it won't change anything

it will only hide your interest from me

and what's the point in that

she's still there

and so are you

i no longer pretend

moving on

now i'm not having sex with you

i won't let you pay any bills

isn't that the warped perspective...


who always said i wasn't your whore

Flying with birds

I sit on a beach

the sea is rough

a pair seagulls hurtle by

a mere foot above the waves

I try to imagine what it's like

to be them

moving through the air at that speed

looking down

wild ocean frothing foaming

surging below me

so close

that when a wave breaks

it reaches up to pull me under

feeling the cold spray splattering my chest




a deep breath

not sure

which words

it will carry out


pacing the floor

I'm going mad

this craving a drink is

beyond bad

up and down

and down and up

it runneth over

my despair filled cup

I don't want to think

or feel or see

this ugly mood

does that to me

all out of hope

and love seems

too hard

and writing poems

well I'm no bard

why can't I want more

of what I've got

there are plenty of others

without a lot

down and up

and up and down

writing this I feel

a clown

This poem occured after thinking about the  poem  The Gleaning Face  written by Matthew Hill and CA Guilfoyle, It brought back some rather painful memories

You and i let's take our leave

i am dying

and you are dead

and this is not

inside my head

we trod the boards

took the applause

now it is time

to close the doors

bow out stage left

decline encore

give breath

to life

not any more

on leaving life's stage


It's been years

you knock on the door

i open it

you come inside

i close the door

we turn to each other

glide into each others arms

faces buried in each others necks

we smell

inhaling deeply

brains click into gear

a process started

i want you with ALL my being

you want me too tho fight it

we undress

no words spoken

clasping each other we couple




we cling

inhale each other deeply



we come to

start to part

feelings change

each feel ashamed

of this red hot raw

cool settles in

creates a din

in our brains

we separate

feelings abate


Imagine/ing poems please come

beaches, deserts,

this life

    that one....

I don't believe it

A little flurry of snow

just blew past my window

wouldn't you think

the weather would know

It's spring.....?

It's even snowed here in December once which is supposed to be summer here Lol

:o(  Lol  I quite like snow as it doesn't occur much in my area and we lived more in Africa/Australia than in Britain so it's a novelty

I love the variations in each turn of the seasons, sometimes clear cut sometimes blurred

Wet Spring

oh to feel

the sun on my skin

so tired of this grey

I'm trapped within

no sunshine shadows

no blue in the sky

rain lashes the windows

I want to cry

The sun is so important to healthy life

  it's no wonder to me it's worshipped ;o)

Which is which

how can you tell

the diffeance

between love

and gratitude

can somebody please tell me

cos I'm feeling quite confused

both of them make you happy

one of them sometimes sad

both of them fill your heart up

tho one can feel quite bad

I think I've found the differance

no need for your advice

love can make you miserable

but gratitude feels nice

Just some early morning musing and this rather silly ditty arrived Lol any input on how to tell the differance between the two is welcome ;o)

gratitude owed can feel as bad as love

yeah it can feel like a debt too heavy and stifling

the word  love  is flung about thoughtlessly and it can be very self serving/possessive and I wonder how much of love is love of self because we project so much onto the love object desiring to see them as we want to

A promise

Something you give

to someone else

while saying

you'll keep it

Just pondering the nature of a word of honour which when broken cannot be fixed it disintergrates if broken I could almost see more to the poem then realized that was another i may write one day when it formulates if it ever does Lol


There is extraordinary

in the ordinary

how extraordinary


There is extraordinary

in the ordinary

how extraordinary

People are so busy often they don't see

collation of miscellaneous

hello poetry replies

life is full of paths not traversed

  but might have but for a differant choise...

Winter doldrums setting in early perhaps...

I often have dry spells where nothing comes,

just sit it out and hope it doesn't last

each time is what i do

sky fluorescent grey

horizan cutout,crisp,sharp

pop colours autumn

view the savouring, stop i

unmoved,past hurry people


Hatred is a cancer and it does destroy,

I've been in it's grip

and wouldn't want to be there again

it almost destroyed me

I imagine being totally sane

must make for perhaps quite a boring person/existance?

Not being that myself

I can only imagine Lol

Insanity and creativity do go together

science has proven....;o) Lol

You don't need to be  fixed

 you are beautiful...





in your screams

my heart beats

It's amazing how much a sunny smile flashed in your direction can bring out the sun :o)

Hmm...I'm afraid I must put my hand up for this one too :o/ Lol

That word  curmudgeon  I love

it's such a strange sounding/looking word written down,

an apt description of a few

I know myself it fits what your saying perfectly ;o)

"we don't want you making a living

doing what you love doing.

the rest of us endure misery for money

every fucking day of our lives"

I got that attitude so much at my last 2 jobs

it's incredibly awful how unhappy souls try to spread their misery

and if they fail to will go to great lengths to destroy your confidence

any other way they can..

Good  poem  Ryan...:o)

We try to hang on to what we want

and what makes us happy or feel validated

a difficult thing to not do or stress about Lol

What happens when we step out

  of our mental bounderies? :o)

Starry skies out in the country

  are absolutely amazing, They blaze...

often feel I could fall upwards into the sky

when looking up at night

What I love about sojourns in my garden

on a beach or a bushwalk

is that for awhile "I" become lost

and am at one

Personally I'd rather a dirge

than a happy song,

  More of reality in it ;o) Lol

It's so ironic

that we don't usually

get a grip on reality

until we're over half way

to death...Lol

Lol  This  immediately reminded me of one of my daughters

she woots too when excited ;o)

woot! for poems

that strike a chord

woot for activity

that saves from bored

woot for seasons

changing face

and woot for

poets full of grace...;o) Lol

I make a cup

of Twinnings English breakfast tea

and sit in my garden

if it's not icey cold,

even then in a coat sometimes,

  watch the blackbirds, wrens and rabbits....

Couldn't think of a better way

to gradually transition

from dream state

to wide awake Lol

I love going  barefoot  feeling the differant textures under my feet, when we lived in hot climes as a child I used to do it all the time, got labelled an arab by english kids when we were posted back cos I'd take them off at school Lol

"The  trees  fade from green to black" I love watching that in the evening here, I have some lovely tree lined horizans over my fences I watch go through that change some evenings, brings tranquility,

Nice one :o)

I like the surprise ending, I was thinking oh no don't hurt the spider.....:o( Lol

I get lots of spiders in my not so sealed tight wooden cottage over winter

managed to catch an epic battle between two in a couple of pics

a large dark brown garden spider caught in the web of a smaller semi transparent daddy long legs

was quite a watch, garden spider walked free eventually he was too big...Lol

"A predator knows another predator when he sees him" good line, good  poem  :o)

We all  box  ourselves in, Live comparmentalized lives, within and without ourselves

It often surprises me still where  mistakes  take us, often to somewhere in life or conclusions or a piece of art/writing that otherwise we'd never have gone/done, The brain acting on our behalf involuntarily? :o)

I love the descriptiveness of this  poem, since it mirrors how I live/have lived Lol

It made me think of a wood stove which I have and frequently dress in front of

and the shack we used to live in when my kids were young

"White flakes clinging to the cuff of the gabardine" is so evokative to me, I once planted a very old apple tree while it was snowing, dug up transported from a century old cottage, There was a view of a small mountain peak with a rainbow over it in the background, It was surreal and real Lol

There is a huge satisfaction in doing things in a simple basic way i think, It's instinctive

This is terrific paul can we see more of this sort of story please...;o)

The world abounds with false cheer, so much so its taken over the world, truth is sacrificed in its name, unreality rules...

the representation of that girl in the  poem  is good, she reminds me of so many I've met

  it's  very hard not to be tempted by the idea of another loving you, we all crave that that, i've been fooled by lovers with their own adgenda that's painful and often difficult to see because we don't want to

I'd like to take a clean slate, not to be hampered by old baggage, expectations or prejudice of any kind towards any notions

Time, can't buy it back for love nor money... :o( can only plow on...;o) and try not to waste it

All the while I thought I was dreaming or was that wished I was Lol

We spend most of our lives except when very young wondering about death which although makes sense does seem bizarre, but I suppose life is that

Lol funny....I hate getting viruses they rob the brain somehow and make all the negative emotions come to the fore...Lol

Dawn ditty

Black is the sky

this early morn

brought no relief

by rising dawn

torn by the wind

trees on dark grey

soon rain lashing rain

will come this way

Having one of those days where rhymning ditties seem to run through....Help! I'm not really keen on them but it seems quite an involuntary thought process, Don't know where it comes from

i'm so pleased the love of infinity comes through in my little poems to you :o)

Yes without the rain this lush paradise would not be :o)


Sometimes I sit here

all day

reading the poems

having a say

day passes by

nothing got done

leave it behind

outside I'll run

fluff bunnies beckon

don't heed their call

rather be out

watching leaves fall

I try not to spend too much time on the computer reading the poems here and often miss so many great poems/poets, Oh that there was all the time in the world and some Lol






spills from her lips

and drifts down to the floor

rustling like dried leaves in the corner

Lol :o) her whispering words I do sweep away


This guy was So smooth

even a fly

would have difficulty

gaining purchase

He is a salesman in a local electical discount shop, he almost left an oily trail on the floor... ;o

eileen writes

i almost didn't post the  burgandy  tulip one



funny i was just today imagining you were famous and being interviewed and i was also there as your editor and i was having to explain how you needed an editor cause you would throw your best poems away

eileen replies

Lol oh andrew

not wrong about me chucking them Lol

i just dont see them as anything but thoughts that cross my mind and why would anyone else be interested

that's all

happy just to have them on ur site

andrew replies

  people don't think or observe the same way as you , that's what makes them special

I could sit and stare all day


seducer sublime

taking up all

of my time

Burgandy Cream


those flowers

I can almost taste them

like icecream

berry and vanilla


I bought one  flaming parrot  tulip at a local foreshore market, and flame it does in brilliant scarlet and orange googled it and there are about 12 parrot tulips all fabulous, Lol I want them all...;o)

Re run

He was an old man

before he was born

something about him

jaded and worn

now he is aging

and living a curse

re learning life's lessons

stuck in reverse

Old before his time he never gives in to impulse always afraid of what might occur if he doesn't micro manage all aspects of life

if only one can become younger as you go backwards, Physically that is of course, you wouldn't want to have to re learn life's unpleasant lessons...:oD

andrew's  reply

what's the view of men that women are here for?

to facilitate their needs...................

or something cos they sure don't view them as people

ah that's it to facilitate their fantasies

not that differant is it

actually that would be to facilitate men's opinions

ed. reply  to

Coming soon to a garden near you

Almost overnight the landscape

seems to have shrugged off

winters debilitations

and risen refreshed

garbed in the bright clean fabric of spring

the sun soars high

in a cloudless sky

here in Taz the seasons when they change seem to do so quite rapidly and you can see that even before 2 weeks pass within days in fact

we put the clocks forward on Oct 7th here (ed. poem written, sept 20th '12)  although it's already light before 6am now, be great when the days extend into lovely evenings as sometimes a not so pleasant day can turn wonderful at 4pm till dark

a spring garden is cheerful after the rather long winters here



my soul at midnight

holds no hope

of dawn

Sometimes that dawn is an illusion too...;o)

andrew's  reply

Ladies and gentlemen please take your seats

A curtain of mist

is raised

by triumphant sun

then brisk breeze

cues the daffodils

to dance

Funny how titles come almost by themselves

reply  by andrew

The gentle man

He did everything


of a true gentleman

tore foxes to shreds

and blew little birds

to smithereens

Saw a doco about the pursuits of landed gentry ;o)

andrew replies

and  “gentle women”  blow men to shreds  : o )

the landed gentry can be a bit of an illusion, their forefathers were in fact very wealthy towndwelling businessmen who were able to buy into the aristocracy and also provided the money for that sort of lifestyle which cannot be sustained on farming

to keep it going over the generations they had, if they were able to, marry heiresses

there were huge fortunes made in india and the colonies and by piracy

and the industrial revolution

The land time forgot

The land of childhood

a time before



and pain

Not always of course children can experiance all of those, was just thinking of idealic aspects of being a child


Hazy beams of sunlight

laced with bird song

signal morning

In the distance

The church clock struck


in muffling fog

a familiar yet

ominous sound

like thewarning bell

on an ocean buoy

tolled by sea's

rythmic swell

The most

beautiful thing

I've ever heard

were notes

sung on high


a tiny blue bird

 fairy wrens tiny balls of feather but they have quite a loud song

Anger expressed can be a catharisis



make her


and hard

to light

Was referring to people I've met who are/were on prescribed

anti depressants and how subdued they became almost all life dimmed

There is nothing like the feeling of going without footwear

Used to all the time as a child when we lived in hot climes the feeling of differant textures underfoot really brings one close to the  “earth” :o)


A soothing mien

he has not

but like a shark

in a swimming pool

he has unignorable



Mysterious mist

takes control

giving bulk

while removing substance


Mysterious mist

takes control

giving bulk

while removing substance

I love mist it has an ethereal quality

have gained a new word which is always exciting

looked up   petrichor...

“ Petrichor, the name for the smell of rain on dry ground, is from oils given off by vegetation, absorbed onto neighboring surfaces, and released into the air after a first rain ”

One of my favourite smells...

let's dissolve

Love that line it's how I've felt in a lovers arms... ;o)

I often long to own acreage just so I can plant more deciduous tree/shrubs naturalized like a little English forest alas my garden is small so I just dream under my golden elm which I must admit is a jewel in the crown of this garden...;o)


Your poems

the flame

  I scorch


Your poems

the flame

I scorch

wrote this last night then deleted it    wrote it again this morning Lol still want to delete it

I thought perhaps its paucity would leave readers wondering why I'd bothered Lol I always feel that about my extremely short poems


A piece of green bottle glass

smoothed by restless oceans

seed pod from the horsechestnut

that shaded summer garden

sixpence stained by christmas pudding

dated 1928

a tiny fossil set in stone

rough to the touch of fingers

old lace from grandmothers wedding dress

now stiff and yellowed parchment

This has 2 lines missing at the end I feel   any suggestions?   It doesn't feel rounded off when read

andrew replies

seems ok to me, sometimes poems hang fire with the unsaid, but that's part of the poem  : o )

eileen replies

it's the most  “constructed”  one i've ever written to date

it feels incomplete to me

andrew replies

i think that's the feeling of the poem

there is a sort of tangible precipice

really the collection is an end itself and you can't say more

Gale Force

Clouds crash

like surf

across metalic grey skies

I'm never sure about putting up these very short simple ones

andrew's  reply

Wood Stacking

Impulses signalling

the state

of bone and muscle

come pulsating

along nerves