18712

3
drink
another chair

17712

mist and bells
the scent of lemongrass
her poetry in my hands

16712

she holds the camera
on his face
the afternoon sun

15712

a tune above
our tonight
canned vegetables

14712

a revolution is televised
and through my jeans
the heat of her thighs

13712

sleep through rain
i step inside
and meet colour

12712

i don't do pills
but now we've counted
my recommended daily intake

11712

her heavy breath
the soles of my feet
along the backs of her legs

10712

she walks between
headless idols in business shirts
and feels like she owns tomorrow

9712

I wake
built
for her denial

8712

after holding hands
we divide
and remember the tomatoes

7712+ talking to Brigitte Lewis

For more Peninsula Poets videos see http://www.youtube.com/user/peninsulapoets

7712

he is not here
his car is no longer in the driveway
(it's in the news)

- 4 the Peters' family

6712

in morning fog
she says
my lips are cold

5712

the sway of the sun
the cat and i
retreat from shade

4712

a morning lawn
a mandala
of feathers

3712

lost songs
recalled
half awake

2712

listening within
her poetry
in my heart

1712

with loss
words unfurl a parachute
for her possessive heart

30612+ Frankston #poetry bombing @peninsulapoets full gallery

Click on image to enlarge.

words by

Andrea Louise Thomas

Brigitte Lewis

Lore Singer

Tony Lambides-Turner

Arjady Marinez

.,,

Jan

comrade harps

For more information,
contact @peninsulapoets on Twitter
or via their Facebook group.

30612

where her fingers have been
i follow
the nape of her legs

29612

coat hanger
on the back of a door -
light swings

28612

a flute loops
her fur removed
he pours wine

27612

whalesong and waves
i walk
to work

26612

cold night
late to bed
her knees are warm

25612

international departures -
the space between us grows

24612+ #nyr12 @peninsulapoets #Frankston #poetrybombing

good weather for a poetry bombing

Let the bombing begin

Andrea Louise Thomas @ Frankston Library

poet Jan has a read - but wait, there's more...

Brigette Lewis and Tony see to that @ Frankston Library

a graying comrade with large print brevity

Most of the poetry bombers @ BRAAP lane

Andrea gets pixelated by Brigitte

our poet Laurie-ette gets some NYR12 action in BRAAP lane

Gallery Lane was pasted with poetry bombs

The writing's on the doors

poet Robert considers words and space

Ross Smith Lane: bombing a progress

Ross Smith Lane got 'creep zined

24612

she sits alone on a long couch
the chairs
animated with talk

23612 @peninsulapoets for #Frankston poetry bombing

Read here or there or in a poetry bombed Frankston lane Frankston Poetry Bombing Zines

22612

worshiped and sleepless

the temple gates

of her hips

21612

stars on her feet
outside
the rain

20612

after the chemist
a packet of happiness
headlights take minutes to pass

19612

city freeway
taillights through curves
swim between lanes

18612

mother and child
milk -
her perfect posture

17612

hoon in a ute

hysteria machine 

at the dawn of night 

16612

a beat of silence
on the sea ahead
a grey veil extends

15612

white breath
on still breeze
i slice mud from football boots

14612

it rains
meloncholic piano and violin
over a blue-lit pool

13612 red quartet 4

12612 red quartet 3

11612 red quartet 2

10612 red quartet 1

9612

ROXII removes
boots and socks
drives away

8612

our train driver
naked and suspended she jerks with pleasure
our fares paid by installment

7612

the weight of the years
the next big pie
we propose a towel

6612

natural fibres
the last brush of heat
below her mother's height

5612 zine available from @stickyinstitute

Read here, download from there or pick-up for free from the Sticky Institute - hopefully enjoy.
The Walk Home a Season Creep Zine 

4612

runs nowhere to succeed and escape
the diminishing threat of vowels
she eyes her black PRSHE

3612

day concedes
the night fails to speak
we are as one alone

2612

silence on glass
the sky
has windows 

1612

the chill beyond lace
an approximation of love
I am here again

31512

a wild hill
we sit in darkness
above the tide

30512

empty cups
cue music
her pale voice in a mirror

29512

suburban cream brick
three ducks on a wall
she dribbles him

28512

i read her skin
the flowers on a wrist
the barbs on her arms

27512

idle morning showers
the warmth of her seat
my pillow my lover

26512

Gwen Stefani sings a break up song
a man whistles
another tune

25512

she drives a white truck
paper thin
against the sun

24512

pop song supermarket
bikinis on magazine covers -
we wear black on the outside

23512

across my smooth head
her blow
dryer

22512

dreaming thoughts

i disguise
her points of interest

21512

music lost
in sleep
a babble of words

20512

lounge music
white dots
on blood red fluffy dice

19512

tied to the bed
and presented at court -
her lotus year

18512

she talks
retro drum machines
with wonderful eyes

17512

the rhythms of rain
again
my companion

16512

cropped blonde leans
back of black leather
into her hirsute boyfriend

15512

black painted
toenails on bare
red velvet seat

14512

at the book club
her Betty Page
bangs

13512+

mother's day
night I walk the aisles
of a supermarket

13512

after colour
she waters her lawn
in a floral bikini

12512

before colour

her clothes

hang on hooks

11512

easing to night
the day declines

10512

the sky decays
and rains polka dots
on to her fresh white top

9512

a face in
the sweep of the clouds
erased

8512

she he kiss
and on the  big screen
country music

7512

blue jeans and black beret
a yellow skull
inked across her chest

6512

dark magenta hair

over purple gown

and pale skin

5512

she leans a cheek
against the cold face
of the moon 

3512

pre-dawn rain
our bed
warm as her hands

27412

the call of frogs
the height of her flesh
the smell of night

24412

rain on the window
and in song

22412

her slim lines
on thin tyres
cycles by

20412

the rain
starts quietly
and builds

19412

palm out
a hand over her face
the sun shines in

15412

to bed early
to retreat
from consciousness

14412

after work
thoughts
and footsteps

13412

today
she wears blue jeans -
he's riding her home

12412

i saw my neighbour's eyes
through her kitchen window -
now she leaves the curtain down

11412

tonight
I saw my neighbour's eyes
through a window

10412

over strings
the sound of rain
returns

9412

romantic music
the softest applause
for the man, his horse and the whip

8412

roxy
swings her hips
at the back of the big top

7412

music ends
a clock
ticks

6412

she slides
on top of me
I am face down

5412

she returns
from the shops
with more beauty

4412

bookshop girl
so slim
the black skirt

3412

I dream of us
and wake
beside my wife

2412

1412