Shadows

In the chill 
of loneliness
I wrap myself
in the shadow
of his once being
warmed by the scent
that lingers
on the breath
of memory.

Monet

The eye of the cloud

The eye of the cloud

brushes the valley

with silken lashes

© Merlene Fawdry

twin souls

between the pages

twin souls bound by

shared passion for words

in an urban sanctuary

shadows of a drug deal

fall upon blades of grass

~ Merlene Fawdry

a border of litter

in weed seeded garden

judge not the broken

~ Merlene Fawdry

between the pavers,
born of careless spore
a mushroom triumphs

rising above weeds
it stands tall, in a
world of small things

~ Merlene Fawdry

suspended in time, his pen

poised over words - unwritten

creativity interred with his muse

I'm a third year student, he boasted

stating his position

in the two year course

The power of her smile

illuminated the room,

where the old man lay dying

 and she, only one year old

The passing

my mother’s slippers

watch over her passing

in the way of old friends

her glasses, lonely

for the smile in her eyes

gaze from empty windows

behind the door

her pinny, missing her warmth

hugs her empty shape

until, after the wake

the final separation of

what is, from what was

the ritual burning

consumes shared lives

as a chapter closes

~ Merlene Fawdry

a few doors down, youths
sprinkle glass confetti
in drunken expression

the following day
children, navigate their way
through shards of defiance

俳画

April 2012

Friends

in the darkest hour

typewriter and candlelight

a double blessing

wind whispers

wind whispers
through open windows
a gentle sough

passing months

January winds down
as February's key
begins a slow turn

an epitaph

clouds striate
an epitaph for the day
inscribed on a darkening sky

writer's meditation

from doodles on my page
a mandala emerges
a writer's meditation

ants labour

ants labour, to create
a subterranean compound
hills grow overnight

passion spent

a feather floats
discarded garment
after passion spent

a waxing moon

a moon on the rise
taps against the window
in invitation

the sound of his grief

the sound of his grief
is heard in the deep silence
of his thoughts

Lost

Lost:
the creative spark
that drives my keyboard
return appreciated

hot winds

hot winds sear my skin
rain, too far away

on the porch rail

on the porch rail
a magpie slipped
in a vine wrapped
fall from grace

on one's own

a latte break
when unaccompanied
observations magnified

at the mall

at the mall, a grandmother bends
to kiss a child
forgetting for a moment
the creaks of age,
an exchange that sees her
stand, with a smile
that straightens her back

Pretenders

literary pretenders
trawl social networks
promoting skills they have yet to learn

Grandsons' visit

my house is littered
by the footprints of my grandsons’ visit
baseball caps, discarded socks, ipod cords
and sundry other boy things
but I know, after they’ve gone
the neatness will be an untidy silence 

Roots

leaves bend
toward the soil, like people
seeking their roots

Depression

depression; a thousand sorrows
beyond depth of tears
unutterable,
it covers his life in a shroud of blue

garage sales

suburban hunters
line up at the gate
jostling for position
ready to barter
the treasures of another

mothers and daughters

in my daughters I see
in each, an altered version
of a younger me

do they see in me
the mirror of their future

dead pens

desk tidy becomes
bulging sarcophagus
under a pyramid of pens

introduction to psychedelia

the doona brushing my chin
becomes the jacquard eiderdown of my childhood;
a brush with psychedelia

Contagion

his monologue quickens
to match his obsession
I stand back from contagion

In the depth of night

in the depth of night
a dripping tap becomes
the heartbeat of the house

tap birds

cockatoos in Blundstones
slow march across the roof
tap birds on tin

Slippery when wet

slippery when wet sign
abandoned on dry walk-way
human sheep detour, conditioned

scrambled thoughts on toast

up-market breakfast cafe offers
off-menu item of screaming children;
scrambled thoughts push eggs aside

Creaky joints

a worn out joint
does not discriminate
between seasons

Jacaranda

Jacaranda showers
purple rain
on a thirsty garden

Tea leaves

in empty tea cup
leaves reveal a  story
as yet untold

Total fire ban

Heat covers the bush in silence
as tinder twitches in expectation

AROS

New year, new day
my reflection shows
the same old me