A Ripple in the Oean

clouds to remind of storms...
Storm – June Perkins

A ripple in the bay
A ripple in the sea.
A ripple in the ocean,
Far, far away.

Soft sounds in my ears
Roaring sounds in my head.
Sounds that engulf my body
And fill me with fears.

The gentle wave has gone.
It has grown 30 feet high,
The bay cannot contain it.
The beach looks forlorn.

Waves come in and out.
No longer ripples,
They become the road,
Men, women, children shout.

It’s too late to save us
The warning came when it was over.
The waves took all before it.
Making no apology or fuss.

The waves returned to the bay.
The waves returned to the sea.
The waves returned to the ocean.
Far, far, away.

By Jean Vallianos




[into orbit]


 when i feel a bit angry

or someone annoys me

or i start worrying about stuff,

 i try to remember

that i  am a small but self-important fleck

of something we call consciousness

in orbit around a few other small but self- important flecks of consciousness

on the thin and shaky crust

of a small but self-important speck of a planet

in orbit around the dying warmth and light

of  a tiny sun

in the drift of a spiralling arm

of a milky galaxy

that’s just a tiny drop

of an oceanic universe

and I wonder what Infinity means.

So i take a deep breath

And look around

at the joy and wonder

of our miniscule speck of earth.

 And the warm gravity of love

that keeps us

in orbit

By Sally Moroney


A poem rippling out from the Ripple project for Into Orbit.

Starry Night at Cardwell Jetty – June Perkins

Trees’ Journey

dream tree - Cardwell pre cyclone.
Dream Tree – Pre Cyclone – June Perkins

The Trees in the breeze
Are a picture to freeze
For one to remember
For months of forever.

The gentle swaying
Of branches saying
I’m free and happy
No constraints on me.

Suddenly it blows
No gentle breeze flows.
It’s harsh and fierce
All have their fears.

No gentle sway today
All are the wind’s prey.
The trees aren’t happy
They wish to live free.

The trees are each stripped
Their foliage is ripped
They are all bereft
No leaves are left.

Still some bare trunks stand
Though branches are snapped
No more green glory
But live to tell story.

The branches will grow
And sway to and fro
Covered with leaves green
It was all a dream.

The Trees in the breeze
Are a picture to freeze
For one to remember
Forever and ever.

By Jean Vallianos

I once had flowers – June Perkins


Exotic haliconia
Stairway to heaven I capture
With my camera

I seek you at night time
The moon reveals you
To my lens

Morning clouds abound
Rain drops around
Now lapped up by the ground

Abundant rainbow garden
Tended with love and care
My fragrant desire

Does yesterday’s dawn
Shine more brightly
Than today’s?

Tomorrow’s evening knows not autumn
Brahminy kites up in the air
Ulysses butterfly everywhere

Cassowary’s hidden footprint
Underneath evergreen trees
Never ending summer

Tropical lushness
Our happiness
One with the world.

By the Licuala Writers

Appears in the Anthology Under One Sky.

Dreaming of a Bear

If I were a turtle
I would swim in the water
And see all the fishes

If I were a whale
I could swim fast

If I were a shark
I would eat fish

If I were a bear
I could walk.

Byron Tully Prep/1cc 2007

The Bear

To Byron and Annalise

A stumble in the garden
Left me dreaming of a bear

A face like a fish
A turtle shell on his back
Swimming towards me.

Terrifying roar
I run to my hiding place
Trying to be quiet.

Trashing through the sea
A whale appears to save me
But I am asleep.

By Lydia, Licuala Writers

School Holidays

Salty breeze
Teasing my hair as I run
Warm sand
Tickling my toes
Licks of smooth ice cream
Trickling off the cone
Potatoes roasting slowly
Among glowing coals.

Delicate shell colours
Brilliant sky colours
Intricate water patterns
Grooved in sand.
Raised round crab patterns
Scattered on top
Bits of driftwood

Seabirds calling
Seabirds crying
Splash waves
Crash waves
She-oaks singing
Wind songs
Moody beach

By Pamela Galeano


Do you like your ice cream plain
Or rippled?
Is inspiration a limpid pond
Or rippling rapids?
In your dream house is every room high-gloss smooth
Or rippled with texture?

On shapely stockinged leg have you spied
A baggy ankle ripple?
Have you cursed the laminator that leaves
A ripple across the middle?
Do you gaze at your aging face and deplore
The deepening ripples?

Repetition of a strong melodic line
With ripples of harmony.
Across a still landscape – transformation –
A ripple of wind
On a low-cloud black night – change –
Ripples of moonlight.

By Pamela Galeano