Autumn leaves, skipping

Up the old apples and pears

To her wintry rest.

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Orchard Lane

“Don’t get caught, he’ll fuckin’ kill yer!”

Emerald green and ruby red

Jewels just out of your reach

Treasures in the strawberry bed

“He’s got a dog with vicious fangs!”

Black as coal we watch him prowl

He snarls and gnashes foaming jaws

And scares us with his hellhound growl.

“Bide yer time and take yer chances!”

Remaining hidden behind th...

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This poem carries faint echoes of winter in a Mediterranean climate, in this case the South West of Western Australia; limpid skies, stormclouds threatening, people in overcoats walking hastily. Rather like an English summer, I would have thought!

And Now I'm Old

And now I'm old as softening apples

left forgotten on a sideboard

after a windy day,

the murmur of the evening room

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AmeriKana night

bought from a shop

outfits  and make-up 

Ker-ching 

trick-or-foodbank night

sweets for teeth

knocked doors

ringing fingers

spend spend spend

Duck-apple

penny fades dangling on a string

creek in your neck

apples bobbing in a bowl

drowning for fun

scary stories in the dark

cheap as f*** night.

words and ffoto Tommy Carroll 

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