Monday, 8 December 2025

 


[November]

 homage to thomas hood

“no haiku november”

 

no amount of ornate word

description

gets the beauty of this world

 

no avail sandals straw hat

thirty-six

asks for air conditioning

 

no cigar for bright sparks who

net-zero

reject - future all fire

 

no experience needed

reflection

the whole being listening

 

no fun my babe hang around

spotify

feeling the same old way freaked

 

no hard feelings with flowers

freesias

roses grevilleas bloom

 

no idea what’s next but can guess

predictions

less substantive than feelings

 

no joke how so many old

skyscrapers

and new hold up together

 

no junk mail blocks the airy

letterbox

curio of email time

 

no name brand ignores human

ambition

curving leafing through landscapes

 

no qualms no frills now quaffing

burgundy

no regrets no faults no fear

 

no respite from no limits

news-cycles

decamerons in real time

 

no smoking vaping or e

cigarettes

where the public goes slow burn

 

no standing anytime down

boulevards

of ceaseless late afternoon

 

no theatre no time zones

no u turn

no vacancies no vacuum

 

no worries see you in yes

november

as they say in the classics

 

no yes no yes no yes how

synapses

pass the seconds of yes day

Sunday, 23 November 2025

Conditions

 


good morning

cold holds firm to foundations

couples chat on platforms

sweet vapours rise the coffees rich

shopfronts open doors

a matterhorn of croissants

empty shops for lease

sensibly clothed to shed layers

the wakeful neatly cross the streets

into the impending rain

 

good afternoon

true temperature twenty

feels-like temperature ten

a phone call changes the complexion

but the contract changes nothing

sun bending over to assist

each colour blossoming on fences

the prospect of improvement is high

the prospect of this scheme is happy

the prospect of the freeway not so good

 

good evening

soft brushing wattle and sunspots

gold mosaic lights the trees

finished touches on rooftops

their acres of similar streets

the meal brings the stories home

this time they’ve gone too far

glamorous glowing small screens

test algorithm bias

or follow the clues to an episode’s death

 

good night

screwing shut windows on another day

a body has no cause to hurry

the cat at rest in the coolest way

entails a tickle and a stroke

emails more deletion than elation

distant aches call for closest panadol

the way to softest sleep

moon rising like an afterthought

let the world news take care of itself

Sunday, 16 November 2025

Diary

 


good morning

to a world free of diaries

no time checks or meeting reminders

or words in waves about who knows

what people and thoughts come into sight

filling every curvy square inch

their meanings taking shape

their laughter as blossoms on the breeze

 

good afternoon

to the awesome but somehow hilarious

efforts to be one of a kind

the past has already converted

to yesterdays that could be anyone’s

while today’s mixture of pictures

passions unrequited opinions oft cited

stay white unwriterly

uninscribed as silent prayers

 

good evening

smiles at the domestic ceremonies

preparing the courses

unhyphenated conversations

wine rings all in the context

and cleaning up as usual after

without need for further comment

or several pages of the diary

decades decay

 

good night

to the deity of delight

to the daring and the darlings

deliriums and dramas

doldrums and disappoints

decisions and doubts

and dearie me the diary

blank this as so many other days

testament to something else in mind

strange to find

or the need to forget