Best Maidenhair Poems

Along the road called forestry, the silver ash weeps over me
as I meander 'round the dell and glade.
Pass scars of sand pits long disused, where gullies, washes speak ‘abused!’
Reclamation offers now a new facade.

Need for powers cut an ugly door. The pylon gash is just...

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I would love to swim to the 'Guilamine' in the skin
Or dance on a carpet of sheer pleasure
I might like an ice-cream cone on the way
Topped with pink and golden treasure.
I would enjoy a drink made of sparkles
That might light up with yellow-red magic
My dreary...

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Far Away, Far Away

Children when you dream at night you may see an awesome sight!
Magic fairies in the dew near trilliums of snow white hue.
You must search within your dreams by the light of midnight beams.
Hear the fairy’s lullaby, coyotes howl and hoot owls cry.
There...

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Enter beside the hollow log mailbox.
Here the road leads through a profusion of leafy damp shadows.
Wild ferns are the underbrush
where Fairy Wrens flit from the slightest presence.
This driveway winds by towering bush gums flanked
on the other side by a paddock
thick with Kikuyu and other mixed...

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"To hold as 'twere, the mirror up to nature. "
William Shakespeare," Hamlet 1601."


Long ago another planted you,	
My cherished Ginkgo tree.
She tamped you in so carefully
And bequeathed you unto me.
Did she then live to see you grow
So stately and so tall?
And to see your charming bright...

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Like a drug of dependence, this will keep me coming back
out along the Sardine Creek, walking on a wombat track.
I should know every cranny and hurdle in the way,
But secrets of the bush keep arising every day.

I am captured by a log with its copper...

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Groundhog day 2024 or Forty one days since 2023 Winter Solstice

Rather than be a day late
and dollar short, I opted   
to post poem acknowledging
the second of February,
where eponymous groundhog
gets his (most often male)
foretelling whether there will be
six more weeks of winter upon oblate
spheroid...

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Grandma was German raised to value beauty,
her art found in nature the flowers and the trees. 
Grandpa, a Wentworth, from an English family
whose Great Grand sailed the Mayflower, across the sea.

In the time of William Morris, when craft was art,
Great Granddad was a shipwright that's...

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Trusted (non Trumpeting) Flora And Fauna Emerge Out...
Of Hibernation To Rejoice Arrival Of Spring 2019

Accordingly, other than
meteorologists plenti schooled
ascertaining onset of temperate air
more particularly otter den non humans
unassumingly (ferreted out), who bear
the tidings, when that season

of rebirth dawns with crystal clear
blue skies, and terrain where...

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Who is embracing these walls in a deep silence?
Maybe be the time, sleeping over the pillars.
Never forgot what it has done to all who listen in.
Devour all spring, even if it is the most beautiful
These walls of houses are building by the memories.
Made of non-material,...

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Sunday February 2nd, 2025 Groundhog Day

Location: Gobbler's Knob in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. First held on February 2, 1887 prognosticating how many more weeks of winter weather without a shadow of a doubt. Aforementioned site chosen for Groundhog Day because German immigrants settled there and brought the...

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A walking track through the forest,
shrouded by giants, providing shade,
with broken boughs, leaf litter and life,
and a cool mountain stream in a glade.

This stranger can only see beauty,
where many see nothing at all,
it may be complex of a flower,
or a trivial meaningless call.

But I’m not...

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When I would no longer fathom the fall
Nor listen to the veery's soulful call, 
When I would not see blossoms spread their fare
Alongside grass lichens and maidenhair; 

When in lasting peace and bliss I shall lie
Sedately watching this world plying by, 
That I couldn't in...

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So azure the early September's sky,
mirrors outshined, away sapphires shy.

Up to thin air melts dog days' trace,
down to soil sinks continual cicadas' squeal.
randomly dozens of dragonflies dart apace;
Snug and slothful, bask teams of pond teal.

Lotuses leaves fold and hide 
to round off summer tide.

Welcoming golden...

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On moss covered log I sit to rest; a yellow robin shows no fear,
there's continual rippling water, a ground thrush feeding near.
Maidenhair droops down the weathered bank; a currawong mournfully cries …
for this one afternoon I feel - I'm lost in paradise....

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