Today’s Throwback Friday poem(originally written in July 2025) is drawn from my upcoming book,Time Hears No Sound. It appears in Chapter 5, Dreaming: A Poet’s Favourite Pastime
A Fire That Burns in the Cold
From behind the trees, And out of the grasses, We cannot stop the fire -That burning desire- From soaring higher, Higher than the entire Starry, starry choir.
So, best we inquire To the Almighty Supplier: “Will there be a ceasefire at the top of your golden spire?”
Today’s Throwback Friday poem(originally written in July 2023) is drawn from my upcoming book,Time Hears No Sound. It opens Chapter 4, The Universe: Infinity Times Infinity
Misplaced in Space
there is inner space and there is outer space I like to travel in both places life is not race my database is my bookcase
I am yet to embrace the coalface face to face and this human race has misplaced the meaning of grace and lost the paper chase to the corporate greed of cyberspace
tonight, I’m flying down to inner-space aboard my “Itmims” spacecraft to find a redeemable place inside humanities headspace
Today’s Throwback Friday poem is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It appears in Chapter 2, Nature: An Unbiased Timekeeper
Winter Sun
What my careless eyes perceived My unprepared senses Soon, I found out that they had been deceived The day appeared sunny enough for a stroll And I ventured into the afternoon cold Ten steps out, a glacial wind took hold
The blustery arctic blast Snapped every limb within grasp My breath turned into icy glass My ears were stabbed by frigid darts My cheeks were slapped by gloves of frozen brass And the winter sun failed to warm my heart
Today’s Throwback Friday poem is drawn from my upcoming book, Time Hears No Sound. It opens Chapter 3, Time: Hears No Commands—a section that explores the quiet rebellion of nature and spirit against the ticking of the clock.
Flying Through Time
Flying below the clouds or Zooming above the bay or Swooping across the paddocks
My wings are oblivious to the climb And do not hear the sound of time
Throwback Friday: Shadows Revisited. First shared in January 2025, this poem now finds its place as the opening to my upcoming collection, Time Hears No Sound.
The final proofreading of my upcoming poetry collection, Time Hears No Sound, is nearly complete. This weekend marks the last quiet read-through before I send it off to my editor and publisher (Judy). Meanwhile, my talented cover designer (Kerri) is crafting the book’s visual soul. There’s still a journey ahead, but everything is unfolding beautifully. Thank you for walking beside me.
Lost and Found – or – There, Here, and Where?
There Lying on solid ground, my shallow shadow wears no face And utters no sound.
Here My outline bears no carapace.
Where On a graveside mound, I see my darkness — waiting to be found.
Today’s Throwback Friday poem, ‘This Lost Shadow’, was my first-ever published poem, in the anthology ‘Melpomene’, edited by Gwendolyn Taunton. Melpomene is a collection of poetry, prose and short fiction named after the Greek Muse of Tragedy. The central theme of the anthology is the beauty found in sorrow and the darker sides of human nature. Melpomene is broken into four sections: Liber Veneficium (Book of Magic), Liber Maeroris (Book of Sorrow), Liber Fatum (Book of Fate), and Liber Mortuorum (Book of Death). Each section contains both new and classic literature dealing with these themes. Authors in this volume include Charles Baudelaire, Paul Verlaine, William Blake, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickinson, Gwendolyn Taunton, Azsacra Zarathustra, Math Jones, Bernardo Sena, J. Karl Bogartte, C. B. Liddell, James WF Roberts, Christopher Pankhurst, H. A. Cledones, Tamas Nagyatadi Horvath, L. Alexander Carle, Bill Noble, Marg Howlet, Ivor Steven and Gene Banyard. Containing works both old and new, Melpomene offers a prime selection of works on the melancholic side of existence, the transformational beauty of the esoteric, occult secrets hidden in verse, sorrow, doom and the inevitable grasp of death. Melpomene will haunt the reader with a dark and unearthly beauty that is both forbidden and forlorn… >> https://www.amazon.com.au/s?k=Melpomene+by+Gwendolyn+Taunton&crid=3KH5IGU638GFK&sprefix=melpomene+by+gwendolyn+taunton%2Caps%2C903&ref=nb_sb_noss
This Lost Shadow
I’m writing this song for my body and for my soul. I’m singing this song, about my return from the cold. Why am I so tired? Is sixty so old? Why am I so sore? Have I been far too bold? I’m physically worn out and mentally torn. I’m so worried about my every waking dawn. I’m thinking of this quiet life, for you and for me. I’m wondering if this vigilant life is too hard for me. I’m pondering if this tragic life shall continue to be. And feeling this bonded life, drifting out to sea.
I’m writing these words for everyone to see. I’m writing this book about a single weeping tree. Why am I so sleepy? Am I aging too quickly? Why am I so sad? Who is looking after me? I’m this furnace log, burning up with glee. I’m this sinking boat, all about to flee. I’m this overburdened camel, or a donkey maybe. I’m this empty desert, a void, far as the eye can see. I’m this broken branch, withering and dying, oh so slowly. I’m this lost shadow, wandering this barren land furtively.
The sun’s filtered warmth Opens my notebook And a red wine Enhances the imagination nook This Cafe’s quietly humming Enticing my visions into reality As my heart beats out a rhyme Listening to melodic rhythms And I sing to myself, a worldly question Do we have the character — to repair our transgressions?
A forest symphony’s chiming, “All my leaves are brown.” Touching a sensitive soul, one more time Forcing my dancing feet down to the coastline Where I hear Mother Earth, singing the blues And sad mermaids are playing harps in tune, to the ancient whales, deep moaning sounds ” The ocean now covers me, in plastic tripe” Are we hearing the lullaby of his final night?
Recently, the theme of most of my poems has been nature. Today’s Throwback Friday poem, written in September 2021, was also a reflective poem about nature.
“After you have exhausted what there is in business, politics, conviviality, and so on – I have found that none of these finally satisfy, or permanently wear – what remains? Nature remains.” ― Walt Whitman
Intertwined
Why are we deaf and blind? How can we be so silently unkind? Nature is not our kitchen to be redesigned
Mother Earth is our holy shrine Our one and only protective rind All we need is her love intertwined
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Featured Image: Forest Garden, Mt Dandenong, Victoria, by Greg Brave
Yesterday, while we were walking along the banks of the Barwon River, we passed under the historic Queens Park Bridge, so today’s Throwback Friday poem is quite appropriate; originally written in September 2021.
Lights Above Bridges (Revise)
Bridges span our invisible years And carry our forgotten tears Crossing over old hidden fears
Bridges are burnt over time Years turn to ashes in an instant And time is our only constant
Beyond the longest bridges Under the ocean’s bluest seas And above nature’s greenest hues Love’s pulsating Aurora nights renew
Today’s Throwback Friday Poem is another poem from my book “Tullawalla”, which I originally wrote in September 2019
A Chalice of Champagne (Tullawalla, page 103)
Once upon a time In the days of rhyme When learning to climb I saw my neon sign Slowly die by design
An angel’s teardrop fell Ringing the church bell And missing my empty well From the tower of song, I wanted to yell But life does not let you dwell
Despite the annual September rain I trekked over flooded plains Avoiding delta swamps of pain Scaling the same old mountain again Searching for our chalice of champagne
Ivor.Plumber/Poet 