tide pool
the sea anemone closes
on a finger
Published by
Patricia Prime
Patricia has recently retired from teaching after 30 years, and now devotes some time to the reading recovery programme at her local school. She is the co-editor of the New Zealand haiku magazine Kokako and reviews editor of the online magazine Stylus. She writes short stories, poetry, reviews and articles, and likes to write collaborative poems with other poets. Contact Patricia: pprime at ihug.co.nz. View all posts by Patricia Prime
territorial turtle
I reach
a bit too far
the rose tree chopped down
the bee stings
her child
seasonal change
the winds of time ~
slip through my grasp
wild roses
stopping to pick one
I’m pricked by a thorn
On her ring finger
another wedding ring…
A creeper!
heading into summer . . .
wisteria winds itself
around the porch
fall —
dead vine remains
pressed, purple flower, against her breast
back porch visitor
next door neighbour’s cat
in the clothes basket
squid hunting
dusk brightens the hurricane lamps
carving a pumpkin
kindergarten children
frightened by the smile
dew on the grass
with each step —
my past
the young DJ
plans my retirement party
no hip-hop music
balmy winter day
curtains rise and fall —
spring’s in the air
rise and fall
after the chid has gone
the swing continues
solitude –
through the night
my neighbor’s laughter
paring his toenails
on the back doorstep
next-door bachelor
cross the path
absence of my footsteps
weeping willows
heatwave
the smell of melting tar
beside the footpath
beside the footpath
daffodil blooming —
midway through winter
sunflower seedheads
drooping towards the ground
still attract the bees
the birds –
greeting each morning
cross my balcony
my gaze
crossing the road
to get to a greener pasture
a herd of cows
a greener pasture –
pristine sky
greeting my dawn
woken at dawn
not by birdsong
but by neighbours
this bird’s song
far into the night
sleep is silent
silence is golden
the new neighbour’s
loud stereo
golden hour
after midnight —
neighbour’s house lights up
at 5 a.m.
calling noise control
their sullen looks
5 a.m.
how many times this rooster crow —
it’s only 4
from the roadside
the call of the marsh hen
above the traffic
one of those days
above the traffic —
flight of the white feather ibis