BLUEPEPPER

Bluepepper wishes to mark the passing of an, at times, seemingly immovable object in Australian poetry. A colossal talent and a per...

Just to Say Says the Janitor Says the janitor each day I learn something new how happiness works with a golden...

Paella There was the stray white cat that we fed paella to. For point of reference, we had to give it a nickname but could not agree on...

The Last View of Sea There was a prize for whoever saw it first a dense blue sliver between two low hills at sea level, the...

Pandora and now they're out for good released and at large not going back underground not leaving either red-hot and s...

Remembering The Stairs - for Julie Pendleton I grew old and winded stairs reminded me of swings of rhythm and raucous play ...

As it was in the beginning 'Is now and ever shall be' as you rise from bended knee do you see a stained glass windo...

Summer Weekends On the weekends my grandfather rose early, dressing himself in his old weekend clothes. Then with tapered-fin...

Obit He lost his religion in the rain on a Thursday. The sun stayed out. It fell off him like snakeskin slipping off a jacket. It c...

Bad Economics of a Haunting   I lived a year away from home at a school and have relived every day in that place, every basta...

Classmate He never raised his hand, sat in the back, stared at the wall--silent. Always the same clothes for gym retrieved...

Still Around When we returned home from your funeral I found some ashes stuck to the bottom of the container inscribed ‘hon...

The Massacre Who am I, now they are like the others? – this early century, late espoused murders while music played, aircraft...

The enigma  Life’s helical enigma  Inevitably - strange but true. Too few get to really see Only the 05.00am night owls And...

The Sport That Keeps On Giving At the party a footy star is filmed bubbling at a urinal by a mate who posts it online. ...

The Strzelecki Mountain Killings (I,II,III) I I brought down the iron bark by the garage to give the solar panels more say ...

I think probably enough has already been spoken and written about the hideous and still unfolding tragedy that took place just across what ...

How I write myself Into A Book The room or place name for the transportation  of memories,  expands Jan Vermeer's craft i...

It's Partly Grace I heard a bus in the distance and noticed close up a rat scurrying out of a bush of moonflowers, the ...