A selection from the 2006 issues of paper wasp

midnight
the log fire
collapses on itself

one lane bridge
a stray sheep
has right of way

spring gusts
jasmine everywhere
in the house

travelling north
out of each window
the same snow

Tony Beyer

crickets
in the cool breeze—
sleeping alone

just above the apartments
a handful of frozen stars
and my breath

autumn clouds
only a picture
of her dog

the moon
and one dim star
counting my change

David Boyer

dropping the kids off
my ex reminds me
why i left

solo dad
cooking
on the phone

separation
i get half of her
debts

cat’s birthday
we take him
to the vet

late night
we can’t
not make love

dad's new sports car
radio controlled

new house
the vendor shows me
to the neighbours

tim bravenboer

high beam
all the roadside trees
ghost gums

daylight saving
using the extra hour
to write a sequence

Dawn Bruce

holding her face
the finest
walnut mirror

Helen Buckingham

stripped to the waist –
the tattooed hawk
flexes its wings

brahman bull
mountains framed
between the horns

clean sheets
alone she wears perfume
to celebrate

muddy path
I walk back over
my footprints

waking
to the sound of a bee
pollinating my zucchini

Nathalie Buckland

last night
three perfect gardenias
already they fade

Lerys Byrnes

woken at dawn
by the bird chorus
I snuggle down into the feather

Clemency Cartillier

muggy morning haze
pine needles stick
to the beagle's nose

sunrise slant
on the bare branch
a robin's copper breast

beach lane
a goose pumps through
leaving its call behind

Paul Cordeiro

Got to buy a shirt
To keep my insides in
And the outside out

Andrew Craig

summer trip
on the way back home
cannot find the map

winter dusk
I order my coffee
black

Alzheimer
he still waits
for the fall of Berlin

full moon night
but we meditate
in candle light

Father’s Day
my cat brings me
a dead bird

Amitava Dasgupta

lovers skinny dipping
he places a hand
on the moon

weekly visit
the same story
over and over

winter dawn
why do you call so early
currawongs?

waiting in the mail box
two bills
one huntsman

reading in the garden
the spaces between haiku
filled with wind chimes

on the landing
after the upstairs domestic
a red fingernail

winter sky—
the colour
of her headstone

Michael de Valle

edging the loft hatch
the darkness
that seeps out

summer evening
my bicycle brakes
a little too tight

Steve Dolphy

walking alone —
the sound of my breathing
a part of things

staring back
at the cardinal
the red sun

fighting kites –
running out
of string

nude beach date –
wondering
what to wear

lights out —
the fly and I
get some shuteye

so much wrong
the magician saws
himself in half

George G. Dorsty

alone
on the seesaw
the twin

moonless night
a cricket calls
I am

Kathy Earsman

orb spider~
fly carcasses trail
across the web

Alexander Ebringer

winter marsh ~
ducks glide through someone's
laundry water

barren tree ~
the silhouette of a leaf
flutters away

autumn's end ~
I tend to the sagging
beanstalk leaves

Chris Eichenberger

clear night ~
cows huddled
behind their breath

street directory
a money spider moves
to the next suburb

electric storm
a crack in the wall
lights up

headstone
a leaf crosses out
the I in his name

country train~
butterflies
keep up

valentine’s day
a dozen fragrant, red
tomatoes

Lorin Ford

middle age —
learning
what hospice means

for Jerry Kilbride

shoreline breeze . . .
she makes a sand castle
for the hermit crab

Codeine haze . . .
the snow falls
even slower

prayer flags –
the wind carries my prayers
in the wrong direction

returning home —
the cicadas
already gone

shakuhachi the monk's notes just notes

September sun —
the crabapples
turn to cider

July evening . . .
losing count
of the firefly's blink

Stanford M. Forrester

Cloudless sky,
the Ferris Wheel turns
into summer

White puffs of cloud,
every cottonwood tree
seeding sky

April showers --
the cursive flow
of pen on paper

Blast victim…
in a blackened hand
a fig half-eaten

William Scott Galasso

among the tombstones
dead leaves ankle-deep
wind in the treetops

Denis M. Garrison

fiercely denying
the neighbor has Alzheimer’s—
Dad faces cancer

hints of spring—
the bike messenger’s
bare calves

its faraway call—
the mourning dove
outside my window

Barry George

cool change
long sheets of bark
twist through the air

all evening
the slow swish of bat wings
in flowering gums

Jane Gibian

pressed memories
forget-me-nots,
do i ever cross your mind?

three quarter moon
hangs from a branch —
apricot ripens

GINA

bridge
over mist the arc
of my piss

jacaranda bloom
where the migrant hostel stood
a new prison

race four
he folds his form into
a pirate hat

fifth race
he is rolling
thinner cigarette

Jeff Harpeng

frail bones
hunched in disapproval
mother-in-law

Nancy Helliwell

Moonlighting —
jet contrails divide
the night sky

autumn leaves—
red-haired girl with yellow dress
blending in

gibbous waning--
a limousine dowager
passes slowly by

J.D. Heskin


flouting the drought
white blossoms in abundance
just overnight

motionless
watching every move
two yellow eyes

a hare and I
both
having breakfast

on the crest
valley mists
vanish in thin air

Petrus Heyligers

cold coffee —
our night held
in morning sheets

hilltop temple -
monk smiles
at an empty page

Leanne Hills

morning walk ~
in and out
of birdsong

blue sky ~
seagull's wings flap
black and white

night fishing ~
only me
and a billion stars

folded laundry –
her lingerie
next to my socks

cat's bell
silent
as she stalks

family photos
my daughter only knows me
—without hair

winter sun
my face reflected
in the polished headstone

Paul Hodder


inking
into the wineglass —
summer sunset

smell of the ocean
as you leave —
faraway evening

calming
herbal tea–
the ripped wrapper

a lifetime
trapped in the supermarket —
vesper sparrow

winter twilight —
no point
getting dressed now

Ruth Holzer

shasei...
a blade of grass
marks the page

green half moon
tonight the grass
crunches underfoot

north wind
I feel first snow
in your grip

this winter
so cold, and yet
so many berries

journeying east-west
will I arrive before you
winter sun

silver birch
I almost missed you
in this snow

Colin Stewart Jones

snowy woods
walking by the spot where
we made love last summer

equinox night
the faucet drip drips
into autumn

almost midnight
I order one more drink
before stepping into tomorrow

late summer walk
choosing a path
I've never taken

country cemetery
a string of weathered gravestones
up a little hill

watching the news—
I whisper to my sleeping son
I'm sorry

bad form
his haircut more expensive
than hers

Michael Ketchek


Thursday looms empty
'til filled by
missing tooth

safe plane home
and you crash
on couch

patterns of sleep
crumpled
binned

Denise R Langley

we paint haiku
on the bookshop window
fine rain

upstairs tenants gone
into evening quiet
spring rain

in the dark
my brother
just talking

after the fires
grandpa's Christmas present
a photo of himself

Peter Macrow

shimmering
over the found ball
scarlet dragonfly

even through cracks
in concrete the resilience
of weeds

Margaret Manson

in the shadow
of a “ONE WAY” sign
a cemetery wall

windowpane —
sunning back-to-back
a cat and a lizard

salt ponds ~
a heron fishes
to the sound of planes

the smell of fresh bread ~
I wash my hands
under the pump

Fran Masat

showing her back
even in the cold weather
- young lady

Zoran Mimica

down the aisle
sunshine dancing dust
tardy mourner

Sunday afternoon
Parson Bird well fed
and silent

midnight quilter
cat and fingers
all curled up

sky
low and green
dog licks my hand

Jacqui Murray

spider web
with an owner
blows in moonlight

summer's end
the last shovel of dirt
on the dog's grave

pausing
to catch her breath
dandelion seeds continue

the football
holding sunlit
muddy fingerprints

passover —
a child's kite drifts
above the steeple

Dustin Neal

grey dawn
the ashtray over
flows

home renovations
the monotonous rasp
of her voice

night shift over
the poinciana's
warm glow

bright moon
the veined coolness
of her breasts

wildlife park
sparrows
in every photo opportunity

making love
in the next room
her father groans

Graham Nunn

in a lake
whispering reeds
hear nothing

the dry earth
cracks
a cricket!

Benjamin Payne

intensive care
the happy face balloon
needing air

end of summer
a pop can without
its fizz

valentine’s night
discussing nietzsche
with the cat

winter thaw
the shine of
an unused razor

waitroom psychiatrist’s office
peeling an orange
layer by layer


empty robe
so many things
to remember you by

stephen a. peters

summer night
the sound of the sea
till the fridge turns on

royal park
a leaf lands on a woman
on a man

chinese garden
the sound of a pencil
and her notebook

potato, pumpkin
and zucchini ~ although
i planted nothing

Greg Piko

desert truck stop —
potted pansies
same color as my fan

up before sunrise-
shiny snail slime trails
every which way

yellow grass moon
under a bucket
rainy evening

wet black crabs
on wet black lava
new moon night

here in the new place...
is the mockingbird singing
outside the old place?

Uhane Pono

wheeling above
harvested fields
the hawk

city mall
my view from the window
pigeons and buses

Patricia Prime

brief shower
in the garden
my first orchid

Charishma Ramchandani

Café readings
poets compete
with coffee machine

Estelle Randall

river reflections
not-quite-raining not-quite-night
a frog croaksonce

fireworks at Sydney Cove
a sacred ibis
in silhouette

Jean Rasey

balcony with a view
freighters and clouds
heading south

tossing out old papers
old photos
get up my nose.
cleaning the old home
coffee break almost over
just one biscuit more

Duncan Richardson

vanishing
into the woodland fogs
the trail

Ashley Rodman

doze off
doze on
the spring goes by

autumn leaf
at the root
of emerging bloom

Natalia L. Rudycheva

in a box
in my sister’s place
my first marriage

cooler wind a roving boat cuts through setting sun


flying home
for a moment
clouds one with their shadows

driving to yoga class
squeezed between two buildings
red sunrise

afternoon breeze
sudden pink
of galahs


ferry wash now only one water dragon clings to rocks

leaves falling ~
so many new graves
around my mum’s

new season girls
on the campus
poinciana red again

long pauses between words
palm fronds
making striped light

katherine samuelowicz


arguing
about enlightenment
two meditators

over the back fence
two widows exchange
obituaries

a nocturne
low over the lake
summer moon

country town
blooming behind the abattoirs
magnolia trees

sunrise watching the calla lily unfold

Carla Sari

photo album,
streams of time frozen
in grains of silver

the air
soft with your perfume
of a thousand petals

Kyoto – rain
melts Hokusai's bridges
to inky stains

tropical beach,
we play boules
with fallen coconuts

barbed wire fence,
blooming blood red
bougainvilleas

i water the garden,
thinking of autumn,
and blood tests

fire-blackened
trees, blooming white
with cockatoos

Philip Schofield

daybreak
a lone swimmer
releases the sun

approaching storm
the flash of white
caps

crickets
passing car
crickets

Rob Scott


Somewhere,
night light strikes the colour
of your skin

That scar,
protecting myself
from you

Andrea Sherwood

dog days
the old fence leans towards
its shadow

wood smoke
last week’s bushfire news
into recycling

lost in thought
the toast
goes on toasting

quietly
among the ears of corn
the eye of a mouse

Sue Stanford

seeds in hand
leaving the garden shed
six young mice

dry white stones
the stream missing
my reflections

pretty blind blonde
her seeing-eye dog
stares back at me

chalk line
across the blue sky
then the sound

Art Stein

finally, no rain!
dachshund follows an ant
with his nose

Richard Stevenson

full morning moon . . .
our goodbyes take
twice as long

morning departure
your warmth still under
the covers

sunlit wings
the flutter
of maple seeds

night fishing
his line scatters
the moon

moving day
boxes packed with the scent
of this house

still pond —
maple limbs reflect
through floating leaves

porch swing
cooling ourselves
with hot air

Marie Summers

winter nightfall
the green of traffic lights
brighter

September moonlight
lone pine sways
brushing stars

Martina Taeker

first meeting
with her parents
the window's frostwork

winter dusk
my car follows
its own light

birdsong in the gap of the couple's argument


she leaves ...
the blue blue
snow

waking up
in a dorm full of strangers
a seagull's cry

Dietmar Tauchner

resting
the sound of rushing water
nearby falls

cornfield
the scarecrow's tattered face
stares at me

Brett Taylor

packing –
the colour of my life
into cardboard brown

garbage night
the shoreline littered
with seaweed

into the stillness
the owl
fading with its call

heat haze
vibrating
cicada song

Lisa M. Tesoriero

September morning
even the birds
are silent

lightning
the cemetery gate
open wide

under the shade tree
checkmate
again

lonely call
of a whippoorwill
the phone never rings

Tony A. Thompson

mist in the eucalypts —
the glow of the morning sun
has no shape

full moon —
no one missing
around my table

a day to myself
she says goodbye so sweetly
I nearly don't go

Julie Thorndyke

Pacific sunrise
he greets me at the tent
with wood smoked tea

first shave
after the back pack trip –
the only part not burnt

camp coals glow
through the night
the eagle’s cry

cloud shadows
settle
into mountain-folds

field of lavender
a warm breeze
lifts a curtain

tea and a tabby
waiting for bones
to knit

CarrieAnn Thunell

sorting through old books—
the discard pile shrinks
as shadows lengthen

Patricia Tompkins

the smell of rain
two geese
flying

breathing in....
breathing out....
just sitting

Shaughn Uebinger

the phone rings
my hello answered with
silence

Ross Vassilev

coffee smell
from car
ahead

dressing gown on line
arms raised
in surrender

one tree missing
from Memorial
Drive

my ripple sole marks
lay siege
to your bed

John West

bicep withering
the old man’s ship sails on
in ink

Rodney Williams

My broom is sweeping
All shadows to a corner
Over waterfalls

Martin Willitts, Jr

photograph
by his hospital bed—
as she used to be

I peel potatoes –
outside, a butcherbird
cleans its beak

busy highway~
a currawong cuts across
the traffic

golden wedding ~
they sleep curved
into each other

first day at school~
a baby-grey magpie
pulls up a grub

weekday ~
a boy drops his handline
into the sky

winter sun
on her navel ring~
she eats an apple

two swallows
back to back on the antenna ~
a door slams

Quendryth Young