Martha Goldmine
rising from the tailings pond
a gaggle of geese
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
32 thoughts on “”
silence, splash sinks
to murky pond’s bottom —
overflows onto green grass
silence, splash sinks
to murky pond’s bottom —
overflows onto green grass
in the mine’s crater
gigantic machines appear
to be matchbox toys
circling hawk-
last leaves fall
from the dogwood
bali monkey shrine
an old female monkey
lazing on the footpath
Tibetan temple –
prone on the muddy courtyard
the worshippers
in my bedroom window …
setting on the horizon
artist’s palette
–
summer afternoon –
breaking through the paving stones
a sprig of parsley
rush hour thoughts
at a standstill —
smooth surface of the canal
sultry day
a goldfish floats
on the tank’s surface
pale butterfly
solitary morning —
flutters pass kitchen window
evening –
still on the footpath
warmth of the sun
midnight solitude —
full moon
further away, tonight
home late
beneath the door
a chink of light
frigid sun on the horizon –
footsteps pace
to-and-fro
stone skimming
the ducks scatter
across the lake
wind-spilled bottle
between the two of us —
shared glass of wine
–
evening concert
huddled beneath a blanket
young lovers
hands embracing
wintry evening through candle light
miami moon swoons
power cut
the only candle
a Christmas one
pass midnight
power restored —
the darkness deepens
no showers today –
a burst water main
on the berm
no sunshine
dreary day —
but no rain
disused chapel
tucked into a corner
the Holy Family
overgrown field
tucked in the corner —
a blur of quails
a sparrow
collides with the window pane
its damaged neck
crack of dawn —
so red
the woodpecker’s belly
he must have moved on
that cheerful magpie
now only silence
silence only —
with sign in hand
“will work for food”
late sunshine
asleep on a park bench
a hobo
rain, all day
transient beneath the bridge —
it’s to never end
the end of an era:
making plans for the future
I consult my diary
making plans for today
hours before dawn —
small dog yelps