One heaped spoonful of heartache, a splash of adoration, three pinches silence, crush of one depression, add a lashing of ecstasy, turn up the volume, hit it with rum and stir that baby well ~ poet Tanya Evanson’s recipe for life on Earth. Published November 2016, The Compulsive Reader, New York If poets tend toward the … More Wham! Bam! and a dose of Shazam! ~ the lady lives to JAM.
Today I met a rich man. He was packing up his 4WD after a long weekend at the country house, over-looking the ocean, nextdoor. His face was heavy with several decades of Camembert and expensive Shiraz. He seemed embarrassed about his dog. He shook my hand as if he were going for a home run, … More Letter to a rich man at dusk.
I hit the boy in a daydream. He strolled his motorbike straight out onto the highway where my 50km an hour cruise in flipflops and sun dress was abruptly confused into a squall of bent metal, shredded petals and grating skin. It was a bright morning, the scent of papaya and grass smoke on the … More Through the window
Gondwana’s prim bouquet of
lemon and honey, red earth and gum
is utterly disheveled
by this exotica
of hot pine, leather,
and sweat. … More my America
A desperate flotilla,
our unquiet beds
strayed the wide back of night
as we, dreamless in Denmark,
alone in the undark,
in our silvery seas. … More One night, the moon – dreamless in Denmark
tiptoed like a fleet of silken fairies
across a busty chorus of cloud,
across the pretty lawn, doused in nightdew
and through a lattice of gum leaves … More The poet, by moonlight.
There was a story once, about a girl so in love, and so confused, that even though the man she adored was near her every day, she never once dared risk his attention. Years and years went by before, one day, she found herself beside him and, even though she was tattered from the heavy seas of … More Love bird
Lilium xx in her glass, brightly she furls and uncurls her long limbs, xxxxxxdusted xxxxxxwith tiny creatures xxxxxxof light. xx almost naked in the thin glow of this quiet table, beside the car keys and a flotsam of letters with plastic windows, she slow … More Lilium – in her glass, brightly.
It’s eight years since I left Australia full-time to explore beyond these shark-bitten frontiers. At that time I was empty of stories and exhausted with the thin pickings of a suburban existence on a land that cried out for … what? I’d been living in the Aussie bush for five years and seen snakes, whales, … More Australian Stories # 1 – Before the magpie sung me up.
In the garden, wet with rain, we went seeking a balm for our longing. There, folded in the petals of a flower, trembling in the heart of every leaf – the letters of a poem from the beloved. * * * * First, find yourself humbled aroused electrified by a petal…. wet with rain. … More Eroticaaaa…..