1.1poetry

Wild Whispers Poetry Magazine Issue 1:1 April, 2025

setting sun a black cockatoo’s tail feathers

Marilyn Humbert

rebirth

time—trickling moving running sprinting freight train jet plane gone

Shae O'Reilly

if we haul on the rope, will it be enough to bring the sun above the horizon
will this be a day to die and rise, a day when love will be abroad

Ruari Jack Hughes

continental drift just as our ships dropped anchor

Kelly Sauvage Moyer

daffodil bud
a votive candle
lit for spring

Jenny Shepherd

cicadas’ steady drone
counts out afternoons
the rhythm of rising heat

Mike Greenacre

snow melt--
on the rim of the birdbath
sipping sunshine

Sondra J. Byrnes

prairie fire

swallowtail drawn to flames
rising from calyx of the red lily
sweet taste of sun

Liz Kornelsen

dark street
I borrow the light
of venus

Tejendra Sherchan

I write as a place to rest
words heal the wounds
poetry is the scar left behind

Deanne Leber

eucalyptus trunks
shed ochre epistles
in the botanic gardens

Pip Griffin

braiding the trees
a lacewing fall
of snow

Joanna Ashwell

nothing is lost

make beauty from your pain
if you’ve been buried
push up and bloom again

Shae O’Reilly

river stones
holding the language
of tide

Joanna Ashwell

he pulls his chair closer
to the bonfire
eyes on his cell phone

Suzanne Leaf-Brock

clichéd wonderment

under anthropocene cerulean skies
a faint hint of petrichor--
canine sensory splendour

Elio Novello

milk glass
forgotten at the window
the moon’s quiet sip

Ranu Jain

slivers of dawn
lone surfer hinged
to his shadow

Zina Ioannou

white camellia
a petal falls
without a sound

Francoise Maurice

childhood beach ...
my soles still feel
its rounded pebbles

Zina Ioannou

the seagull carries
a stick in its beak
holiday home

Earl Livings

I embraced the black sky last night

the moon was hiding behind a cloud
I was breathing deep as the world
my hands met the sky
clouds went on as before

Amlanjyoti Goswami

luminaries

an orange fireball balances on a pencilled line
pale surf drops a trillion stars
frogmouth eyes reflect the moon
sunrise butters seagull feathers

Sabrina Blom

city shower

rain spatters pavement
umbrellas bloom like flowers
people run frantic
clustering under cover

Veronica Lake

right

she holds his hand to her cheek
his right hand
his writing hand.
now he is stuck for words

Steve Evans

krill

you, building block of biomass
infinitesimal yet essential. without
you, ocean collapses into hunger
so herd rush grow murmuration of the wet

Scott-Patrick Mitchell

wind blowing and raindrops splashing
the blackbird scurries on the grass
stops to search for worms in the dark
a purposeful dance

Helen Torr

comments

-i like ur face girl
-gross nope
-oh. well.
(if you do not like my face it doesn’t mat-
ter anyway now I’ve written about you on your page)

HK Ní Shioradáin

overgrown

it’s not ruined yet
the pillars are still standing
I am one of them
I am chipped at the edges
cracked down the middle, holding

Anna Quercia-Thomas

if there were shapes in the wind
they’d hit the washing on the line
pass through hedges and long grass
appear on billboards
advertising the weather

Diarmuid Cawley

normal style

the normal style in microsoft word
is whatever you set it to. mine used to be
calibri
now it’s times new roman--
I’m trying to fit in.

Marion Lougheed

zen piggelie

oh to be one with each moment zen
as a guinea pig full of grass sitting on his arse dreaming
of another guinea pig’s arse oblivious to the rise of trump
a.i. apocalypse or war piggelie-buddha
your blissful satiation has a lesson for us all

Tim Parkin

too many landmarks ...

to ever really be lost
and a world too formalised
will always have aberrations
irrationality
is a wildly spinning needle

Steve Fulcher

tea mathematics

would you like a cup of tea?
I’ll make it in a moment
factor in doom scrolling ...
and the moment is a quotient
of the preparation postponement

Ruth Collins

the night gardener
weeds, digs and plants, but might pause
to take pleasure in
sparks from a tram’s pantograph
the light from a stone lantern

Philip Davison

disturbance

geese took off from the lee
for quiet and open sea--
to retreat there a while,
till my footsteps ceased,
then glide unlooked to their isle

Richard Williamson

there are no tens in this sixty
only fives and twelves
go home
contemplate threes and fours
seek tens

Mar Bucknell

bushfire smoke

the smoky haze permeates everything
our clothes smell of smoke
air we breathe tastes acrid
and our water is affected--
even our souls are coughing

Craig Coulson

creation

six days
the potter’s wheel turns
and then the rest
a glazing of ash
before the fire

Robert Witmer

china cup with gold “mother” and flowers

honestly! we didn’t think they were that special
everyone had one somewhere in their kitchen
the vintage “mother” fashioned in cursive apron strings
replaced by the SUV driving, protein-shaker mum
a self-rattling ball in 800ml of biodegradable plastic

Wendy Beach

Selectors: Deanne Leber, Wendy Beach

The original version of this magazine issue 'Shoreline' can be found here. We have now moved to a text based magazine.