toast and traffic jam

toast and traffic jam
in the sweaty heat of morning

I shiver
doing marvellously well
startled thoughts awakening to day

hesitate freely
like a smaller wind
beware of the
angry faux fur jacket
the terrifically-funny scarf
and the good natured idea
for thoughts change like thin words

think with fat fonts
think with originality, hope and freshness
sing charmingly, always

by mary ann blinkhorn

Ten Tons of Sand by Russell Ayres

Ten tons of sand

On my shoulders

Drifting thru my fingers

Ten tons of sand

A heavy haul

That’s a lot of weight

Ten tons of sand

An oppressive mighty obstacle

Carved from the land

Each and every grain-like particle

A new beginning

written by Russell Ayres
a guest poet from Hamilton Hill, Australia


state of the artist
state of the art
state of the artist
knock out a wall
go out in the sunlight
stroll along in the moonlight
there are no wall-climbing solutions
think, breathe, speak, create, laugh
gasp for air and rejoice in it
sing your song in giant measures
tap your fingers on ordinary walls
those that form positive structure and don’t crumble
and as for those bitter parentheticals
lose them

by mary ann blinkhorn

approaching winter

my words meant something
but you chose to hear
the accompanying leaves falling
the inevitable part of autumn
that soon passes
clearing the way
for magnificent snowflakes

i walk in cold morning air
mesmerised by fresh tomorrows
showing my breath to
sun and passing vehicles
words traveling
down the same sidewalks
as those days when
my words meant something

i slip on
maroon leather gloves
with silver buckles
pull up faux fur-trimmed hood
tighten scarf
and with gratitude for their warmth
concentrate on the current story
one of smiles and tears
hope and comfort
whole heart rising
to a place where
destiny is kind, forgiving and paramount

by mary ann blinkhorn

feral woman

the feral moonlight

lightly touches the cat

but what of the aging feral woman

holding tightly-grasped flowers

drinking from glass branches

in late november


withered voiceless flowers

pulled loose from stones

fragmented shadows, lingering

the forecast, snow


one day her heart stops

that’s what happens

the thud

partially dispersed by echoes


transparent deep freeze

breaking news

loss, stillness

flashing lights

blankets too late


oh, hour


by mary ann blinkhorn