Archives: Poem Gallery

mountain mists
the magpies fly out
of their own songs

dawn whispers
my jogging and the leaves
along this street

and the Suns soften
as unheard cicadas
creep slowly back to earth

our estate sold
Father’s portrait eyes
a tart look

ceased rowing
the beauties of an autumn’s
falling place

reading old letters…
all Mum’s apple pies
from this table

the sweet face
and her daughter
leave the beach to winds

sandpipers
don’t know to enjoy
these foot foaming waves

old man haiku
I speak them softly
in a single breath

old folk’s home
phoning an up-date
of my troubled girl