The Door

When my late husband died I felt very alone, as we all do while dealing with grief. My home was sold shortly before he died, I couldn’t find a suitable replacement and spent several months with kind friends. This idea of searching for a new life, where I would find peace and contentment came to me then.

The Door

Its surface is rough and blistered

the handle is shaky

blackened with age.

Like Alice

I need to find the magic words

but I’m afraid

that never-ending loneliness

waits beyond this door

that drifting in a world of grey

is not the life for me.


I summon up courage

and paint on a smile

prepare to wait

it could take a while

for the door that’s right

to appear.


Coloured like jewels

from the brush of Gustav Klimt

it opens to melodies

of Mozart and Lizst.

With angelic voices

we sing Gregorian chant

while walking through forests

and resting by streams.


Clothes are floaty

no cares of fashion

even the old

wear beauty with grace.

Sex isn’t an issue

nor ego.

Faces are smiling

we fulfil our dreams.


I write my story in the air.

Words float away

like the music of birds

not recorded

cherished for the moment

in which they’re created.

Later, I’ll find them


like the sounds of a symphony

or the trace of a touch.


I’m still alone

inside this brightly coloured zone

but have no fear.

Friends In My Garden – Exotic Bird

This poem was written for a friend with a lovely singing voice. She is also a good listener who has often been the one I call in times of trouble. She’s not the sort of person to want centre stage but she definitely stands out from the crowd. I hope you have at least one in your friendship garden.


Exotic is my little bird

gorgeous her plumage

of brilliant emerald

and sapphire

and the richest ruby red.

She’s something of a loner

rather shy

and quiet until she sings,

then she leads the chorus.

Her voice fills my garden

with the sound of crystal music.

I love to sit and listen

not only to her song

her words are never wrong.

We share a tranquil moment

rest for a while on a bench

chat about friends and daily affairs.

A peck on my cheek

a feathery wave

and she flies home to her nest.

Friends In My Garden – Maiden Hair Fern

Feathery fronds

of delicate design,

maiden hair fern

softens quiet spaces.

Gentle she grows

pleasing to those who wander by

bravely facing unexpected blows,

attacks from slugs and slaters

or a sizzling from the sun.

Fate seems unfair

to this fragile fern

but her endurance prevails.

A little care

a sprinkling of kindness

and she’ll persevere

lacily greening the shade in my garden.

Favourite Books from 2015

What were your favourite reads in 2015?

The Writer’s Festival in the grounds of the University of Western Australia is always a feast for me and this year’s selection in February, more than lived up to past presentations.

Liz Byrski spoke about her non-fiction book, ‘In Love and War,’ which I have only recently read. Her fear of the injured men who returned from the war, many with faces so badly burned that they appeared to the young Liz as almost inhuman, made me hesitate. I love Byrski’s fiction, particularly her ability to draw me into the lives of her characters. This latest book is nothing like them and I felt that it dragged a bit, but it was worth the effort to stick with her journey in revisiting the site and interviewing as many of the survivors and the nurses who cared for them, as she could find.

Continue reading