Love Poetry For Couple

Two huge lips went shopping ?on a pogo stick ??for a red satin handbag coordinated in colour ??with their cupid�s bow 'Two Lips Went Shopping' - title poem from Two Lips Went Shopping by Lizz Murphy (Spinifex Press 2000) republished with permission from the publisher. The poem was previously published in Blast. The book was the outcome of a 1998 ACT Creative Arts Fellowship

I met the weaver today scalloping burnished gold onto tamed hanks of lacebark, porous and sunbleached tissue thin strips of lathed bone. He was cold, the weaver, but he talked sunnily enough of commissions and traditional uses for the bark - bandages and summer cloaks - as spring sun sparkled crisply on the bay. He gave me news of the cloak I coveted

(for Eric McCormick) There are all these lines without words telling you a whole story. The portrait is a yellow table a gingko leaf shaped fan you think might smell of sandalwood, a paperweight some flying sheets of paper and a Chinese vase of �yellow-grey, 2 blues and brown� [guess who] curving itself round mountains and the wide open branches of trees looking

In this droughta crack has worked its wayup or down our lounge wall - a crinkleto a hairlineto a mad jaw of a thing.The builder talks of settling,waiting for a change in the weather,giving it a few days,and you are finewith putting panic on holdfor a rainy day,while I'm on a fault line,looking up past the pictureyou have hung to hide it,pulling out the setteeto see how much worseit is tonight,

When a child starts school, so too the parents: this is a truth Cloudmother can�t escape. Here are others � when a teacher favours a child, so too the parents; when a classmate befriends a child, so too the parents; when a label owns a child, so too the parents. The mother most of all. The handwriting lessons that failed to prepare her for life; the teachers who saw careers in

Chemotherapy by Mary McCallum who knew she was there hidden inside that thing that turns her girl upside down and inside out (poison, really, a small inefficient killing field) let loose in a body still young enough to smell of milk in the morning, one the mother must return to sit beside and stand over to stroke the soft cheek, catch the soft vomit, be steel to all that

tortoise: from the Greek, tartarchos; �god of the underworld� i. The Fall As I fell, I burned through shame and grief and disbelief and love � words that trail like smoke, like broken wings. Only rage was left � its silken tongue, its crystal shell. I fell through night and time into the morning of this world, and kept on falling. Once, I lived by passion�s flame, but I learned