Category: Australian Poetry
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Scorched
On the train to Canberra the soil drowns in sunshine and not a lick of water can be found to quench the thirsty land.
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Polymorphic Harmony
It is a gift we humans have, to be able to ponder our own thoughts
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Hail
She throws herself down in great torrents, aching to crack it open and she gulps,
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Heat
It’s not my fault, she implores as she flings herself across the tinder licking up the final drips of moisture, crying over every molecule ignited by her rage as her heart burns the land,
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Unafraid
I was fearless once. When my words spilled out recklessly, wild, untended – a garden let loose. Nothing else mattered but the words as they grew from my deep and flowered, majestic in their exuberance.
Miriam E. Miles 