Poetry & Art







My Caravan

I have a little caravan,
Like me, its not so new.
It’s kind of cramped and small,
Oh! And there’s a broken window too.
I put lots of my special things around,
To make it feel like home.
It makes me really happy,
To see how fond of it I’’ve grown.
Now, it’s not your five star resort,
Or your mansion by the sea.
But this little caravan,

Is home sweet home to me.

© Poem by Helen Gardener
My friend and neighbour




In the park today, I watched

An old couple on a seat.

I watched, as he tenderly

Helped her to her feet.

She linked her arm in his

As they slowly strolled along.

Him to her, her to him

To each other they belong.

They stopped at the end of the street,

And she pushed back his windswept hair.

He gently touched his fingers to her cheek,

With tender loving care.

What a great love this must be

To last for an eternity,

I hoped, as I watched them move away

If this could happen to me.

                                        Helen Gardener ©   




Do you dream of far away places

When you close your eyes to sleep,

Does the vision of familiar faces

Make you want to weep.

Do you miss your family and friends

Now that you have moved away.

Do your dreams of your loved ones
Help you through the day.

New places, new faces in your life

When you have the urge to roam

But you know when you sleep tonight

You can dream your way back home.

                                                   Helen Gardener ©  



Imagine a world without sunlight

Where the clouds wont let it shine through

Imagine a world without moonlight

Then imagine my world without you.

Imagine a world without laughter

A world that is all sad and blue

Imagine a world without music
Imagine my world without you.

Imagine a world without children

Where everything’s old, nothing new

I’ve imagined a whole lifetime of tears

But I cant imagine my world without you.

                                               Helen Gardener ©        

   Dixie LeeR

Dixie Lee

You lie in the sun, my lovely girl

And the warmth carries you away.

To a sleep that comes from deeper places

And seems to make your day.

Now your coat is covered in dust

The spot you lie in is just soil

But this spot makes you happy

And that I would not spoil.

So I brush your coat, my lovely

And you give me a big wet kiss

It’s just a bit of dirt between friends

And these moments I wouldn’t miss.

Helen Gardener ©


Telling Me Innocence

And purely without shadow

precisely and vividly Vera, in veritas,

adorns the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge,

Capricorn scenes and horoscope star signs, and more.

She marvels my seeing, unmasks my adulthood,

my ageing years and returns to me, undimmed,

the eyes of childhood till I am as if fairy tale enchanted

by Australia’s places, given over to this art designated naïve.

Joie de vivre radiates from her years’ works prolific

for this artist has ranged far and wide within canvasses,

greeting cards, even a postage stamp design as she embraces

flora and fauna, the sea’s fishes, the land peopled and blossomed.

Sometimes I surely see the touch of Pre-Raphaelite clarity

as grasses, leaves, feathers are detailed, made exquisitely real

yet so much is painted as if dreamt, drawn into the present purely

by the heart’s eye encompassing a world recovered in innocence

and without shadow, solely the smile shines, sunshines indelible

Paricia Rayner


Winter In The Tropics


I watch frangipani’s grief:

in bare branched silhouette

she drops a last decaying leaf

to rot at winter’s feet.


tropic winter’s high blue skies

the filagrees

of bare smooth branches rise

but hide no timid bird,

and have no velvet flowers,

no languid scent

to tempt the frantic bees,

so frangipani grieves.

I know

when winter is half gone

her sap will surge,

a thousand new leaves will be born,

and on frangipani’s dress

a mass of fragrant blossoms

where honey bees caress,

while I still grieve

with winter’s fallen leaves.

Jean Renew

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