Aus-Art

To the moulting orchids on my kitchen counter: Please know I picked you out specially. I said once it seems odd to buy flowers for a man. He asked why. I didn’t have an answer, so this Valentine’s I went to the floral section in the IGA downstairs. There was one plant in a red-and-gold pot left from the Chinese New Year, and lots of pastels, but you spoke to me. Five stems, a five-finger rainbow. Pink, pale orange, blue-purple, red-yellow, and neon green. You remind me of the socks he wears to his office job on the sixteenth floor. He’s built like that building, tall enough the socks show under his cuffs. To me, orchids

LOOKING FOR GHOSTS BY CHARM SPEARS 1997 It was a huge old house that sat atop a hill overlooking the valley which led to the Valley that the Three Sisters were in. It clearly had been a grand house when it was built in the mid to late 1800’s and it was clear that it had been looked after and refurbished and refitted since then. These days it was a motor Inn, which the guide to the Blue Mountains said was full of old world charm, good food and friendly proprietors, it had a five star rating. The people driving the skimmer up the winding driveway had other reasons for coming to The Old Hilltop Inn at Katoomba. They were curious about a s

Slowly it descends A sullen sky forebodes. Her hope and desperation A world that speaks in codes. Reminders of a freedom That once seemed like a chore. The struggle for equality Forever wanting more. The vacuum has a flavour An ever-changing taste. The latest fads of industry Too soon becomes the waste. For others, in the shadows Sensation in the key. A hedonistic revelry A yearning to be free. No harmony between them Except sometimes at night. Two naked bodies, free of thought That hold each other tight. The ego is a fickle beast Its values and desires. It makes buffoons of honest men And saints of silky liars.