About Lorin Ford
Growing up first in the Seaford Beach/Kananook Creek area and then in Cann River, Croajingolong country, East Gippsland, formed Lorin’s sense of belonging to the natural world. Lorin began writing haiku in 2004. She served on the judging panel for the Haiku Dreaming Awards (2009), on the The Haiku Foundation's Touchstone Books Awards Panel (2010, 2011 and 2012) and was co-judge with Lee Gurga for the H.S.A.’s 2018 Henderson Haiku Awards. Lorin was haiku editor for the first nine (quarterly) issues of Notes From the Gean (2009 – 2011) and subsequently publisher of A Hundred Gourds (2011 – 2016) where she served as haiku editor, features editor, managing editor and in other editorial roles. In 2014 she founded the 'Red Kelpie Haiku Group' (Melbourne, Australia), convening four meetings each year until the group broke up subsequent to its twentieth meeting in June 2019. Over the years, Lorin's haiku have received awards and been included in excellent anthologies. Books Published: 'a wattle seedpod' (Post Pressed, Teneriffe, Qld, Australia, 2008); e-chapbooks: 'what light there is' (3Lights Gallery, 2009) and 'A Few Quick Brushstrokes', a winner of the Snapshot Press e-chapbook competition, 2011. All three publications are available online, free of charge.
By Lorin Ford:
- it’s hot, it’s hot . . . . . .
- lockdown - . . .
- telling me over and over the undertow . . .
- no fly in a flicker of the bluetongue’s tong . . .
- crimson rosellas – . . .
- bones decaying . . .
- thunderbolt . . .
- . . .
- old pond . . .
- . . .
- new galaxy . . .
- beyond the black stump a shiver of ghost gums . . .
- seen through a reef shark my dependency . . .
- mackerel clouds . . .
- still some swagger . . .
- green field . . .
- the road home each bend unwinding an earlier versi . . .
- waltzing matilda two beats ahead of the rain . . .
- migrating geese— . . .
- where creek willows weave the sunlight ducklings . . .
- thunderbolt--- . . .
- sun-baked dust— . . .
- drizzle and mud— . . .
- on a bare twig rain beads what light there is . . .
- owl’s call sounding the depth of a winter night . . .
- commuter platform . . .