by Llywellyn Lucas      I love old flowers: the withering Is natural and right: in mellowness to fall away; Secession of a pear to pulp and tiny pips of...

by Arthur Wade    I'd been camping in the back-blocks for a half a year or so, During which I think it never ceased to rain, I was seedy, I was tired, I...

by Martin Haley    In China these things happened long ago: The patient of a doctor died, and so Conceiving he had been unskilfully Treated, his...

  Nature didn’t invent marriage, let alone monogamy.   Mere tidiness is the destroyer of creativity. The only real poverty is possession of a mean...

    A race down the grassy hillside, A scramble and splash at the creek, A pause at the rugged sliprails, And a game of hide-and-seek. A search for the white...

by Gwen Belson-Taylor    How I have loved you You will never know, My loved ones drifting in an alien world, Through sun and days bereft, with rain...

by Garry Lyle      Travelogues, radio have made those “west beyond the sunset” lands that boyhood fancy glamorized  familiar as Noosa sands.   Small...

By Barrie Reid[1] Jack Reeves left home at the fifteenth anger went out west with cattle. Proud with the pride of his sixteen years he rode where the...

by Colin Bingham    The bowl is shattered The great blue bowl; Where it held roses – bronze and burning, Summer's heat caught in a clump of petals, Giving to...

[THE following verses have been sent to us by a correspondent in the country, who states that he does not know the author's name—that he received a copy of...

by Brian Vrepont    At the burst of the first sky-bomb On the city, the god leapt out of me Screaming with impotence; Afterwards, dumb and warmly dead,...

by James Sweeney    I set out from Proston for old Kingaroy, The going was easy, the ride was a joy; I covered the miles without hitch or a jar On that...

by Edgar Holt      Lady of elusive smile, patched and powdered portraiture, were you always free from guile before you were a miniature? Were you Chloe to...

by George Essex Evans     Typical Bark Hut In the old log hut the shepherd lay, His fevered cheek by the hot wind fanned; And he dreamt of the dear ones...

by James Picot    Beautiful bird, in as your wings as vivid A tree, Rosella! Beautiful bird, I said: 'Your tent won't shelter you or love or me, Red...