Roger K.A. Allen Poems

I was driving home from work one night
Peak-hour crawling,
An the red taillights trailing,
In the chill winter rain,
...

Sunday afternoon
The bleak chill winter wind
Stings lips cracked, blue-bruised,
Seeking refuge
...

The last bed
Filled at midnight’s empty hour
The play in three tragic acts,
Moribund... humanity.
...

I am working in my front garden,
In the warm sun
Of a Brisbane winter's day.
...

The squatter's chair…
From my childhood's memory
It's always been there….
My Grandpa's study with shafts of sun
...

The turtledoves,
Coo-coo-cooed,
Each afternoon,
For me, a strange sound
...

I read two books on Stalingrad
This summer,
-By Craig and Beevor,
In French; my language-love,
...

In 1955, when I was a boy,
German soldiers still shuffled,
Anonymous,
With vacant eyes,
...

The sheep jump into the milky race
Prodded under for baptism by total
immersion
By limp wet akubras
...

The Ardèche and Lascaux’s caves
Walls with frisky bison filled,
Life so rich of a frozen age
Prancing antelope and hunting bear
...