By Terence Dingwall. Doonside, NSW My flock bleats gently in the night, my village steeped in slothful slumber. The stars above gleam faint and bright, do I hear the far off peal of thunder? I hope this means a chance of rain, as I hear distant whip-like cracks. Does the dry earth split and cry… Continue reading The Shepherd
Category: NSW
Scarabs
By Terence Dingwall. Doonside, NSW In every battle that was ever foughtOne side’s hopes have come to noughtThe fields are strewn with those who diedFor death has scattered them far and wideFor a few more hours peace has comeWith the long slow sink of setting sunPeace has come to Friedrich and FredIs this piece Friedrich’s,… Continue reading Scarabs
Dancing
By Andy, 66. Byron Bay, NSW After my sister laughed and made a spectacle of my dancing as a 10 year old I swore to never dance again. The shame and embarrassment went to every cell ... Even while taking my young teen children to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and the Chemical Brothers, my… Continue reading Dancing
They Write
By Leonie, 78. Port Fairy, VIC The next generation ... or two, they writeway out and weird they writein paranormal spheres they writeof cobras and pythons, media savvy snakesarranging dates ... hello! have you ever ...let’s meet; they writeof aliens in vinyl skinsin a state of dislocation; they writewith lines of text all over the… Continue reading They Write
Fear and Loathing in Bangkok
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW The turning of the new Millennium drew me to South Thailand — Ko Pha-Ngan, to be more precise. Why? The Psy Trance parties of Haad Rin beach and surrounds. What we called in Australia the doof scene. Back then, it was an older crowd who had washed up from… Continue reading Fear and Loathing in Bangkok
Wrong Place, Wrong Time
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW It must have been early February 2005 ... I was bored with my current job, so on a whim I bought a ticket to Sri Lanka and boldly decided to become a volunteer in the post-tsunami southeast coast of that troubled land. Prior to leaving, I spoke with an… Continue reading Wrong Place, Wrong Time
Morning Musings
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW Woke this morning kinda listless …A rainy day again (as is the cycle at present). Brewed an espresso and sat in the feelings rather than attempt to shake them off. My mind was like a book left carelessly out in the breeze. Pages flitting, randomly stopping occasionally with the… Continue reading Morning Musings
Sea Eagle
By Andy, 65. Byron Bay, NSW Hmmm when was this? Let's see ... I must have been back from India for quite a while. Months. Years maybe. I was living in Byron Bay as I remember being on the beach a lot, just lying in the sun or practicing harmonic throat singing. Of course, plenty… Continue reading Sea Eagle
Good Sport
By Karen Lethlean, 65. Sydney, NSW Don’t mean to brag, but I’m a Triathlete, of some repute. This happened on one of my first races as part of the Australian team, competing overseas in Honolulu. World Champs, Olympic distance race. Great course around parkland one end of the famous Waikiki strip. All race set, fit,… Continue reading Good Sport
Time
By Terence, 72. Doonside, NSW Where have you gone, I wish you were here What did I say, was my meaning not clear When I looked in your eyes, saying I would be true That time would not change, what you knew that I knew The years that have passed, time just ticking away Hair… Continue reading Time
Sixteen Missions
By Rayna, 77. Sandy Beach, NSW As the sun dips on the horizon, Harry slowly places the binoculars back in their case. His arms ache and his eyes sting from scanning the skies all afternoon. Knowing there won’t be any sign of him now, he trudges back to his cottage. Charlie never flies at night. … Continue reading Sixteen Missions
To the Top
By Paul Blanksby, 63. Helensburgh, NSW ‘You’re a sook, Miklas, a big sook.’It’s that Johnno again. Oh, I could just… They can’t have seen me sitting in my backyard, these boys, through the passionfruit vine and the wind-warped paling fence. An unwanted adult observer of their little drama. A smaller boy, wearing a blue jumper… Continue reading To the Top
Remembering Nan
Somebody sent me a photo of the vacant block where Nan and Pa’s house had stood, even longer than the seventy-five years they occupied it. Well, at least Pa had been in it that long, Nan having pre-deceased him by more than a decade. Although demographically the average longevity of women being greater than that… Continue reading Remembering Nan