Tuesday, March 27, 2007

Last Years Leaves

Like bronze organza scraps
Upon a seamstresses floor;
Discarded pieces
Swept into a disused corner;
Creativity's after-thought
-They have no purpose now.

Old leaves,
Barely visible,
Trapped along the fence line
Scuttled along by the wind,
The drift of melting snow,
And time.

In another life,
they gleamed.
Strong fresh vibrant;
Leathery and green.
A fibre now dulled;
Their chlorophyll hues, drained.

Threadbare and fragile,
They lay in clusters;
Mere ghosts of their former selves.
The emerald life blood has retreated
Evaporated...been absorbed;
While new life sprouts above.

© Strauss
27th March 2007

Wednesday, March 21, 2007


The giant silver bird yawns.
I, and hundreds of others,
Transported in its gullet;
A belly full of dreams.

Expectant eyes wide
To new surroundings.
All six senses sensing,
The foreign.

I have been here but a day,
Drifting like Eve on the first morn
And yet,
It could have been six months.

Falls cool, grey reproach;
Yellow foliage
Crunching under foot,
Have Disappeared.

Replaced instead,
By endless breezy blue;
A canopy of frilly, cherry blush;
And petal strewn pathways.

The birds that flew north for winter
Now present themselves right here.
The journey having transformed them though.
Is this where they all go?

All in a single afternoon.

© Strauss

Thursday, March 15, 2007



-“I get a sense you are anti-Podeon. Am I correct, Sir?”
-“Awww…I wouldn’t know anything about that, Mate.
Didn’t know the bloke.
He died long before my time.
I got nothin’ against the French, but.
Although I didn’t much like his hat....now that ya mention it

© Strauss
14 March 2007

Very, very silly indeed.
This week’s completely and totally optional idea for Poetry Thursday was noted as “defined”. Contributors were asked to scour their dictionaries in search for interesting words. We were not to look at the meaning, but define the word based on our own impressions. I nearly didn’t do this one. I tried earlier in the week, but it didn’t really work for me. Then I remembered, that I was asked the above question, soon after arriving in Canada. Was I Antipodean? The inquirer was met with a blank glaze-eyed stare, as I answered in a rather ambling monotonous voice; "I am Australian". He replied that he “thought so”, and then he left.

In response, I scurried off home in search of a dictionary, for I had never heard the word, antipodean, in my life.

**Just so you know, Antipode refers to any two places or regions that are on diametrically opposite sides of the earth. Anitpodeans are the inhabitants.

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

The Red Walk

Spike-heeled stilettos
roam the streets in wait.
Red Light District,
in the dark corners of the night.

Shiny leather boots
march defiantly as one.
The world's Red Armies
Unite the Communist front.

Winter pale toes
stomp the season's first fruit.
A silky red wine
born from luscious juice.

Bare Indigenous feet
dance The Brolga with precision.
Dry red dirt
swirling with the movement.

Dorothy's famed shoes
click at the heels.
Ruby Red slippers
Just want to go home.

Swollen ankles - mine,
throb from standing.
Red woollen socks
With a hole in the toe.

© Strauss
6th March 2007