Mother Nostalgia Poems

In the cool of an autumn morning
my father and his friend, 
Jimmy Kerin, would go
mushroom picking in paddocks 
way out past the last suburban fence.
I...

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from your first born, when you grab a dusting of talc, crushed with late night feeds, stirring in bouncing and stories on a knee,

adding a...

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The Mother of Invention
Has given birth once more
And her new baby
Is as mad as before

Eddison or Tesla
Would spill their tea
I know because it happens to...

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The kettle's on... 

I'm thinking about the good old days as I begin to write 
Thinking about my younger years, when the ground was colored...

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Sunday eventide on the slope of the
fire-hued mountain,
owls take flight from the pine boughs,
I'm sitting by an open window,
peace of writing in the night.

Hunter's moon,...

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Mother was away, plucking hens
So I got my mead, in the special hip flask
Sat by the fence, just by the green
Time slipped along, Ken joined...

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Overnight, the landscape has
More color and yet less
How’d I fall asleep on the East Coast
And wake up in the West?

Everybody is tattooed
Everybody is tattooed 
Uh-oh!...

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Was here yesterday morning, disappeared this afternoon 
Gone a certain aegis, like the wearing off of perfume 
See nothing can last forever, time elopes with...

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While cleaning out my garage yesterday 
I FOUND A SHOVEL, BROKE, RUSTED AND OLD 
To think, that I had almost threw it away 
I couldn't,...

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late November air,
crisp
pale with the steamy breath of borderless joy
for children who sit curbside
bundled in the bulk of layers softening cold
children (mitten heavy) 
 ...

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Of all the senses, 
they say that smell 
is most closely tied 
to memory;
like Proust with 
his madeleines;
like blackberries 
in July,
in the park where 
my...

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my first cookbook was Betty Crocker
I hope they still sell it
the recipes were fun and easy
this was before I was forced to cook

I used to...

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"Can you feel the soul of an abandoned house;
can you hear the whispering? " 
Quote by _Constance La France  


My ancestral house I abandoned...

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Why can't the world be like it was when I was young
    No one cleaning up dog-due dung

  Kids dying right...

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We were just children of different ages,
From varied places brought on different days  
By the police to that one children’s home.
At first, we did...

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