A selection from the 2003 issues of paper wasp

wagtail
threading its way
through lantana
winter morning
the river’s mirror
dulled
open car window
whipbird’s call lashes
my ear drum
            Janice Bostok
wearing his shirt
just for its scent—
winter moon
the gentle stroke
of her mother’s hand…
small white casket
            Kathy Lippard Cobb
noon-pale sand
a one legged gull
changes feet
slate sky~
petals of tibouchina
tinged with white
            beverley george
sunset cruise
my hand on the curve
of her hip
reunion
my father remains
at arms length
chance meeting
in the used bookshop
an old romance
            tom painting
winter wind the crow leaves behind its caw
mushroom field…
the monk sleeps beneath
his straw hat
leaves skipping
across snow—
November wind
            Stanford M. Forrester
recognising duck
from sweet sherry
label
            John West
first date
their cell phones
on low volume
darkness…
the mother tongue
we all forget
            Giovanni Malito
silent funeral
from roadside grevilleas
the twitter of birds
            Carla Sari
the drum soloist
removes his earplugs
to hear the applause
after illness
wasting
another day
            Tony Beyer
fisherman
knee deep in water
head deep in rain
            Michael Ketchek
caught
in fresh poured concrete
full moon
            Estelle Randall
a warm wind
in the palm of his hand
new dust
            David Athey
in her hands
drying seashells
lose their colour
foam streaked wave—
a seagull’s wingtip
cuts the surface
birthday morning
signs of hair loss
on the pillow
after the bushfire
a hint of colour
through the ash
            Graham Nunn
still summer afternoon
death rattle
of a large black beetle
            Esther Theiler
peak hour storm
plasters the gridlock with
jacaranda blooms
through winter wind
the fiery challenge of
a gypsy violin
            Jacqui Murray
last harvest
my father’s slow steps
in the garden
            Joyce Austin Gilbert
breakfast—
first rays of sun
filling empty bowl
spring—
on her broken arm
blue cast
we part—
on the napkin
crushed trace of my lips
another October
marked by jacaranda petals
parking places
mountain walk—
each further mountain
lighter blue
autumn cold
over old family photos
moonlight
cold rain pimples sidewalk
deep in the pockets
my hands warm
            katherine samuelowicz
urging me along
the sky in constant motion—
autumn foothills
rolling thunder—
a row of cypresses
reach for the rain
giant fig tree
cradling the moon—
a grandson born
            H.F. Noyes
among the jonquils
beside the burned-out home
chooks scratch in the dirt
another year
still tempted by her breasts
the fruit falls unpicked
            John Knight
evening
noisy quiet
of the bush
            Peter Macrow
unpacking—
all the maps
useless now
island farewell
a long note
from the ferry
            Ruth Holzer
wearing a blank face
and a yellow carnation
woman on the road
nothing to be seen
in the silent wood
but the trees themselves
            Brett Taylor
spent
nipples melt
into aureoles
mallards mating
embarrassed
i can’t stop watching
sweating together
my beer and I
summer evening
obituary
remembering
our awkward dinner
            William S. Simms
nursing home
two fists to hold
the daffodils
scent of violets
the garbage truck lifts my bin
into summer sky
            jack prewitt
clouds gather
above the even sound
of mourners digging
only in this place
are the coffins bare
like bookshelves
            Eddie Paterson
anniversary
flowers on the orchids
larger than ever
half-moon
explaining to the child
the missing piece
            Patricia Prime
late afternoon—
the empty beach
crowded with footprints
            Catherine Bullock
waiting for war
ripe cherries make
good eating
old diary of
my married life
makes me feel younger!
            Gloria B. Yates
autumn chill…
a man with a cigarette
sits in the rain
            Marc Thompson
on me
onto the ground
autumn leaves
            Jean Jorgensen
Shadows everywhere
even in the cricket’s song
this day in autumn
            George Gott
closing the hotel door—
nothing left behind
ours
a big sky bigger—
nothing to catch
my breath
            Gar Hotham
after listening
to gossip of bad husbands
i hug you harder
news clip of war—
we pedal on
at the gym
            Miriam Sagan
early Spring—
going to work each day
a little brighter
            J.D. Heskin
chilly dawn—
the finger moon points
as the geese depart
            James Rohrer
afternoon surf—
behind the skimming pebble
holes open and shut
signing her birth certificate
my signature still
that of a sixteen year old
            Stephen Dolphy
on the bike path
spare wheel over his shoulder
magpie swoops         again
rusty roof iron
no hay again this season
bent posts lean
            Joan Davis
our first kiss—
caught suddenly
in the undertow
            Michael Blaine
bathing
under the starry sky
lotus moon
            Pamela A. Babusci
school fair
the lucky dip
runs out
meditating
in the cemetery
i ring home
buddha on hold
someone else
buys him
            tim bravenboer
a morning breeze
moves the hair
of a stoic yogi
still pond—
a soft breeze
shatters the clouds
foaming surf—
two lovers enter
a whiff of fish
rolling of surf
wave after wave
of children laughing
            Fran Masat
brisbane october
every distant view
purple grey
daylight moon
blue of the sky
in the craters
            Ron Heard
moonless night
baby’s mouth at her
full breast
on the wall map a moth crossing borders
            Ross Clark
your gift of green limes
luminous on an old indigo plate
            Ynes Sanz
waking late
only your perfume
on the pillow
cold front
just a black dog
on the beach
            Greg Piko
cancer clinic—
the bushie’s old akubra
pulled low
driving home
between the trees a glimpse
of razor wire
            Sue Mill
house-viewing—
in the woodstove
sparrow feathers quivering
            Owen Bullock
all night snow
the cat burrows deep
into my dream
bitter night—
just the tips
of the cat’s ears
            Pamela Miller Ness
twilight
his breath warm
as he fastens my zip
            Vanessa Proctor
the river—
how soon our thoughts turn again
to war
            Rob Scot
all the way home
from the wedding the big moon
too bright
            bruce roxburgh
summer full moon
only the sound
of the bat’s shadow
A late kiss
finds its place
in the dark
            Rowan Donovan
winter sunset—
his and her haloes
bob down the street
thin mist~
a pregnant woman wipes
the swing seat
season kickoff—
two lines of fresh washing
face off
bougainvillea
my blood slowly fills
the scratch
            John Bird
Waking from a dream
of snowfall:
the crescent moon
A thrown lotus
falls
among the lotuses
            Ryan Underwood
at the end
of frozen bird tracks
nothing
spring rain
the candle flares up
in the mirror
            Dietmar Tauchner
high school reunion
the sweethearts
not speaking
            Tim Jamieson
near the riverbank
where ice narrows the channel
geese walk on water
            Kathe Palka
gas attendant
L O V E tattooed…
on her knuckles
            F. Matthew Blaine
stuck in the office—
one tree outside my window
in my springtime
picking mulberries—
my stepson’s hand touches mine
for the first time
Canopy of green—
The black of a trout slips
Through rocks in the stream
            Jack Galmitz
blue dragonfly
a warm sunset
in its wings
summer wildfire—
a burning scarecrow
shakes its fist…
sipping jasmine tea your full lips moistened by steam
            Ross Moss
Empty house—
the kitchen wall calendar
thirty years old
The artist’s painting
Of her husband, now I know
What she sees in me
            William Scott Galasso
From the back of the ute
Red cattle dog
Rounding up the cars
old love letters
destroyed
by time and moths
            Rosie Stalker
pomiedzy blokami
jeziorko
bezdomne

among apartment blocks
a lake
homeless
            Grzegorz Kosson - translated from Polish by Katherine Samuelowicz
curbside on trash night
discarded electric fan
its blades windmilling
crossing the shoreline
a gull’s shadow flaps
into its reflection
parkside bench
newspapers stir
a vagrant unfolds
            Alec Kowalczyk
after the storm
stars overflow
the bird-bath
            Betsy White
power outage
in the darkness
I can’t whistle
            Ayaz Daryl Nelson
on sunwarmed stone
elegantly posed
amber cat
            Margaret Manson
the lake at sunset
trembling with reflections
of drowned trees
snow crust
broken by spears
of seeding grass
            Lyn Reeves