A selection from the 2005 issues of paper wasp

night drive
stars framed by
moonroof

after the funeral
she retouches her makeup
in the rear-view mirror

marking all night
then steaming tea
& fog in the valley

tattooed nudist all his stories on show

Vietnam vet sleeps under yesterday’s news

taking the photograph she smiles too

down syndrome
her balloon smile
never deflating

by the tractor shed
three brolgas
line-dancing

Ross Clark

bird song
my dog’s nose twitches
dreaming on

fading…
missing child poster
days fade into week weeks into …

Martina Taeker

island paradise
seaweed too
white with old age

grim face waitress
working overtime to ruin
holidays

Jacqui Murray

night bugs shine —
and look how many stars
came to swim here

Cezanne’s pears —
So lifelike
I feel painted

H. F. Noyes

westerlies and your kisses
… I put balm
on my lips

winter cemetery
no footprints around
this grave

cold evening
my hands
warming each other

winter car park
graffiti swear
from windscreens

twilight
under NO STANDING sign
two girls kiss

sudden breeze wrinkled stars in the puddle

winter bruised skies the words I don’t say

storm crinkling sound of a power line

getting dark
still visible
your shadow next to mine

katherine samuelowicz

old stones
new moss
feels like rain

cool breeze
earth shivers
through tall grass

Jill Dybka

tourist strip —
amongst the plastic
an offering for the gods

spring heat
another thought
evaporates

at sunset
two cats in love
the old dog moans

sunrise
splitting the flash
of the mango

love letter
so humid
the page curls

Graham Nunn

words my finger left running on the shower screen

these rains sparkling the golf course with mushrooms

candles licking the darkness in your room

and into my glass
an aspirin clouds
over the moon

on her knees before Buddha getting the best shot

Karen Dooley

sunlit water
shadows of mangrove trunks
push against the tide

nearly summer
the advent of flies
and jacaranda

beverley george

emptiness
the space that creates the path

walking meditation —
an ant
joins us

Kamakura rain …
the great Buddha listing
to each drop

flipping through
the Thrift Shop coat rack —
October chill

cold Aegean sun
the temple
half stone half shadow

Stanford M. Forrester

my mother’s birthday
the sky closes in
not a breath of air

Esther Theiler

empty cinema
a sweet wrapper
untwists

ground shadow
a hawk checks our part
of its territory

wet down
cars on the stalks
float on the road

mosquito song
so much louder
in the dark

reaching the shore
the best poems
never written down

Tony Beyer

deep in conversation
we miss the turn-off
twice

birthday cake
beaten to the candles
by the august wind

tour-de-france season
more lycra
on brisbane bikeways

Ron Heard

spring wind
one ear-ring trembles
at my neck

summer afternoon
a slant of ligh
mirrors the light

Andrea Sherwood

snowy picks
on my windowsill
the glow of persimmons

heatwave
beyond sleep beyond memory
crickets

Carla Sari

summer rain —
weeds wrap around
the rusting lawnmower

afternoon funeral
the curls in my hair fall
with the temperature

winter homecoming —
the smell of ginger bread
in our oven

church bells
heavy snow muffles
the sound

mud slide
last week’s hike
still on her shoes

darkness —
between snores
the moon

Marie Summers

where you did not sleep
incense and memories
hang in the air

Ynes Sanz

moth
I’ll turn the lamp
down low

Robert A. Spice

retirement home
winter rain fills the window
dot by dot

steady rain —
the park puddle connects
the ibis to me

Alma E. Bird

stepping delicately
on the high wire
three acrobatic pigeons

family get-together
a small boy
wipes away kisses

at the funeral
the friends who don’t go to church
don’t sing

solitary backpacker
turns the postcard rack —
wish you were here

Marina Scott

lying in the meadow
the summer sun
through a dandelion

glacial melt
fills the pot —
sorrel-leaf salad

from out
of autumn fog
a man’s shadow

into the stillness
of midnight snow —
the repeating bark

flying
over the handlebars
the moon and I

CarrieAnn Thunell

semen
then
tears

playground
only
silence

McMurtagh

final divorce papers…
much too lonely
even to grieve

before
learning its name …
hummingbird moth

George G. Dorsty

sexy bra
the pattern of lace
the pattern of skin

turning fifty
still the lake laps
at the same rocks

still summer evening
cigar smoke hangs
in the humidity

sitting on the lawn
setting my beer
in my own shadow

the singer’s mini-skirt
closing my eyes
to hear the band

black night, black bears —
in the tent she decides
she doesn’t have to pee

Michael Ketchek

ferry terminal
no one notices
a flight of cormorants

demented cries
at the edge of thunder
storm birds

railway siding
adorned with gladioli
garden escapees

Margaret Manson

rice field smoke
drifting through a house
never finished

tricycle
following the harvester
home at sunset

first warm day
we bring the beer
inside

cherry petals
on the sushi
they couldn’t finish

Scott Metz

spinning laundry
one tear-stained pillowcase
still resisting

canal pleasure boat
the children stare
at floating shopping trolleys

John Kinroy

air-conditioned bank
scribbling haiku
on deposit slips

one pine
bugle notes fading
into dawn

Sue Mill

cremated dog —
among the ashes
that missing screw

March moon —
awakened by honking geese
we both smile

David Bacharach

so tired
the bus stop bench
feels soft

summer’s end
bottom of the pool
dust

maple tree
leaf by leaf
the birdsnest grows smaller

stephen a. peters

NO FISHING sign —
at day’s end I erase
the ING

J.D. Heskin

you are away
but the house is warm
with a memory

Owen Bullock

the last barbecue smoke
drifts into the branches
we stay out of the wind

Patricia Prime

day off —
the cat stretched across
my empty backpack

Barry George

overseas call
wrapped up warm
in your heat wave

Clive Oseman

the old greyhound
still dreams
the rabbit’s swift pace

Edward Higgins

mid autumn
between calls of bellbirds
a ringing phone

Myron Lysenko

evening wind
the flicker in the eyes
of a pumpkin

sunny summit
the village i come from
in fog

alone in front of the backdoor full moon

mass for the dead
so many voices
singing wrong

she & buddha smiling after sex

heat wave
explaining my life
to a stranger

morning moon
her lip’s taste
still on mine

Dietmar Tauchner

Found penny —
on my birthday year
a patina of rust

Scratched heart
in the beach sand, only
the names change

William Scott Galasso

she must be desperate
following me home
full moon

2 year old
the sun
through his ears

harvest moon
behind the microwave
wishbones

waiting
for spring rain to stop
I clean the shower

autumn
a black-clad wind surfer
glides across the bay

Peter Macrow

train platform
our glasses touch
before our lips

sea’s edge
each receding wave
digs me deeper

a sudden gust
the dying rimu’s needles
fill the air

nursing home concert
her knitting needles
click in time

winter chill
carrying my old dog
up the steps

Vanessa Proctor

August evening
watching the street
being watched by the street

as each child hops aboard
the houseboat
a little lower in the water

Steve Dolphy

Outside the temple
it’s still America:
wide streets, big cars

New York winter —
in a stray kitten
darkness spills over

Jack Galmitz

morning greeting
her kitchen
faces east

rainy night
the beating of
our hearts

the setting sun
finds each crease in his face
ploughing done

Greg Piko

in the winter dawn
your breath
warming my face

a spark of desire
in the op-shop
my old writing desk

just before take off
we fasten our seatbelts
tell me you love me

Michael de Valle

decision time:
diet
or next size up

Andrew Detheridge

this year
we place a wreath
on your name

cobwebs
in the living room
my frail mother

Joyce Austin Gilbert

rainy day —
my daughter turns down
her heavy metal

Richard Stevenson

separated
we split
the kids

country town
everyone
waves

working from home poetry break

carols by candlelight
practising
all day

wife away
bed full
with kids

tim bravenboer

clear spring sky
shines in puddles of
last night’s rain

chime goes for class
I envy the woman
sweeping bright leaves

Jan O’Loughlin

equinox —
the year balance
on midday’s shadow

distant thunder
the youth snaps off
a car aerial

empty house
their pencilled heights
on the door jamb

Australia night
belly dancers perform
at the curry night

camping~
inside the tent
she irons her dress

her scar
the baby feeds
from one breast

Nathalie Buckland

instead of waking
to you the dog’s
cold nose

flying …
butterfly on
butterfly

in the wind
between my thoughts
the kite

Jason Stanford Brown

ninety-nine haiku!
then the white iris
blooms

sleepless night —
the silence between flashes
of heat lightning

hard rain —
an old penny winks
from the clay

look, the first
sasanqua camellia!
the cat’s pink yawn

flooded road
a soft drink bottle
turns left

Lorin Ford

midnight lightning —
the loudest crash sets off
the answering machine

Julie Thorndyke

reflection
the “happy hour” sign
is sdrawkcab

William S. Simms

our cat
asleep
on cat haiku

tails in a row
ducklings
burry their heads

Fran Masat

wreaths
bloom
on roadside signs

rose petals
stain her bridal gown
blood read

in my mother’s orchard
oranges
quilt the ground

doll’s house
furnished with
my childhood dreams

Philip Schofield

death bed
a warm hollow
left by the cat

why is
the woman in the mirror
older than me

Mary Hind

boyhood
a rusty wagon
fills with sunshine

wind poppies
she blows herself
a kiss

old stamping grounds
the river still follows
its path

silence …
a pine cone
points the way

Andrew Riutta

firm handshake
the old wound
aches

the garden hose —
last summer’s water
gurgles out

seaside nature trail —
your car vandalized

Ruth Holzer

in the old garden
descendants of lilies bloom
year after year

listening to music —
power cut
bird calls take over

split second
the image remains
for ever

Betsy White

derelict shed
moth remains dangle
in the dead spider’s web

Rob Scott

walking from the plane
lightning speaks
“dumelang”*

*Setswana plural greeting

arriving in darkness
the motel greets us with barbed wire
and dogs

Duncan Richardson

After the bushfire
A shrivelled red apple
Still warm

Autumn moon
The sax player serenading
Empty chairs

Jenny Barnard

Sparrows couple
on the withered creeper —
peep of day

The lone poet watching his interview— two minutes fame

R K Singh

traces of summer
in the scarecrow’s
final bow

late autumn —
a laborer courting
darkness

cow swatting stars
under a
summer moon

Robert D. Wilson

misty morning—
clouds and mountains
mixed up

camphor laurel —
its scent jumps out
of the fire

overgrown corner —
snake and gardener
lift their heads

fresh grave
the school bully
underfoot

Quendryth Young

snowstorm
pine needles
bow down

dawn
the all-night diner
closed

Tony A. Thompson

one faded leaf
hangs on the poplar
I read your last letter—

Dawn Bruce

ten years later
the coveted scarf
wraps the scarecrow’s neck

outside my window
leaves fall
the hills come back

Carol Bradburn

Cold wind—
my new haircut
too short

Holiday alone
the skin so white
under my wedding ring

Autumn walk
the old couple
read the headstones

Paul Hodder

setting out
manure on our boots
that the river will cure

Andrew Grossman

caught
but for a second in a spider web
raindrops

in the pond
a beetle jumps —
the moon

Charishma Ramchandani

berthed
in the harbour
the moon

days off!
I see the world
through my toes

colin jones

in the early morning ravens transform to silver

Estelle Randal

monsoon —
soapy men beneath
the drain

sentry with a gun —
morning glory falls
from metal spikes

Kathy Earsman