A selection from the 2003 issues of paper wasp

threading its way
through lantana

winter morning
the river’s mirror

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

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
            John West

first date
their cell phones
on low volume

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
another day
            Tony Beyer

knee deep in water
head deep in rain
            Michael Ketchek

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

first rays of sun
filling empty bowl

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

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

noisy quiet
of the bush
            Peter Macrow

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

nipples melt
into aureoles

mallards mating
i can’t stop watching

sweating together
my beer and I
summer evening

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

flowers on the orchids
larger than ever

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

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

under the starry sky
lotus moon
            Pamela A. Babusci

school fair
the lucky dip
runs out

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

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

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

my blood slowly fills
the scratch
            John Bird

Waking from a dream
of snowfall:
the crescent moon

A thrown lotus
among the lotuses
            Ryan Underwood

at the end
of frozen bird tracks

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
by time and moths
            Rosie Stalker

pomiedzy blokami

among apartment blocks
a lake
            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