Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Epilogue of a Romance

How many young marriages break. We scarcely know why. and older marriages too.


Three flowers of spring
The Chinese said
Symbols of new life
New beginnings. 

They ate plums
The deep wine fruit
Oozing upon the lips.
She carried daffodils
Dripping with bridal creeper.
He wore a pink camellia
In his lapel. 

When winter struck
Baring the branches of the plum
He was living with a divorcee
In Joondalup.
She had gone home to mother. 

Laurel Lamperd
Order a print copy of this popular children's book from Three children try to save a creek from the developers. Suitable for children 7-11
Download from sony, kindle, smashwords, B&N etc

Friday, January 25, 2013

Child Rearing

All those lovely memories of babies, weariness and a time that won't come again.

The baby awoke
All snuffy and puffy-eyed
rattling the bars of the cot
pleading to get into bed
with me. 

Finally we slept. 

At five-thirty
The toddler awoke
ready to begin the day. 

Creeping out of bed
Afraid of waking the baby
grabbing a dressing gown
and fur-lined boots
I tiptoe into the toddler's room
holding my finger to my lips
for silence. 

The toddler laughed
And called my name.

A putting on of jumpers
And socks and slippers
on plump little feet
I carry her against my breast
her little body
like a warm sausage 

We stood on the verandah
And watched the sun
a glow in the east
it was about to rise
over the edge of our world.
download Substitute Bride from smashwords, sony, apple B&N etc
Emma Napier helps her friend escape an arranged marriage. Then she meet the dashing Lord Desborough at a shady inn who is looking for a temporary wife. Buy print copy at





Sunday, January 20, 2013

Waiting for the Train

Waiting for the Train 

Minna found the three bobtail goannas among the cartons of empty cans and rubbish stacked at the back of the yard.
She placed them in the separate races she'd built from the broken stones which she'd carted from the tumbledown house at the end of the road.
The goannas refused to move. Minna prodded one. It opened its mouth and showed its blue tongue.
Suddenly the goanna at the far side took off, waddling furiously on its short legs.
"You'll be last." Minna warned the defiant one, still mouthing its rage and fear.
The goanna in the middle race scrambled over the dividing wall of broken stone.
"Naughty." Minna scolded as she put the creature back behind the others in punishment. "You have to keep in your race track."
The goannas were moving nicely now. The defiant one caught up with the other two. "Come on," Minna cried to it. "You can win."
 The goannas reached the end of the race lanes and scuttled to safety among the wooden boxes, empty forty-four-gallon fuel drums and kerosene tins at the back of the yard.
"Minna," her mother called from the verandah. "Can you see the train?"
Minna climbed the peppercorn tree and stared southwards across the flat treeless plain in the direction whence the train came. "No, Mumma."
Minna's mother closed the gates at the rail crossing when the trains came through. It was her father's job but usually he was out rabbit trapping or kangaroo shooting or doing a bit of fencing for a pastoralist. Minna and her mother closed the gates even when he was home. 
Read rest of story on

Wind from Danyari: download from Kindle, Apple, Kobo, Smashwords etc
Joe Hennessy builds a sheep station at Carnarvon WA for his family.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Drought is what many farmers face in Australia, Then they have the good years. As a retired farmer's wife, I know Drought very well.

Green and lush
Were the pastures
That spring
when it rained and rained
and the washing wouldn't dry
and the children squabbled
and fought in the house. 

This year the country
Is bare earth.
Wind erodes
Sending dust storms
eddying drunkenly across paddocks. 

The children want to
Dance inside of them. 

The dust comes on a face today
The day the trucks took
The last of the sheep.
Buy a print copy of The Battle of Boodicuttup Creek from
Suitable for children 7-11. Leanna, Mitch and Shane try to save a creek from the developers for the water birds.




Friday, January 11, 2013

The Japanese Grandmother

Read the rest of The Japanese Grandmother on my website
The Japanese Grandmother 

We were always in awe of our Japanese grandmother, so tiny and delicate in comparison to her great clodhoppers of grandchildren who took after the Australian side of the family. The only thing we inherited from her were our sloe black eyes.
To her grandchildren, she always remained an enigma. "Tell us about where you came from?" we'd beg her.
"I came from Japan," she said, her black eyes smiling.
"But where in Japan?" we'd cry, especially me, who had a greater interest than the others in our family history. "We know grandfather's family here in Melbourne but where is your Japanese family?"
She smiled mysteriously and fluttered a fan made from rice paper in front of her face, using it like a mask as she gazed at us over it, her eyes inscrutable in their darkness.
We tried to guess what grandmother's life might have been in Japan. Had she been a princess or highborn Japanese lady?
One of the younger grandchildren was sure grandmother had been a fairy. We bigger ones scoffed, sending her fleeing to grandmother for comfort.
"If you say I was a fairy, then I must have been," grandmother said. "Look, little one." Grandmother opened her fan with its exotic design. "See the crane contemplating the tree. What is he thinking?"
"He wants to build a nest and lay some eggs," my small cousin said, getting her genders mixed.
Grandmother folded the fan and placed it in my cousin’s chubby hand. "For you, little one." Sixty years later, my cousin still has it.
As we grew older, we queried grandmother's history less, that is, all except me. I suppose it was why grandfather left me the letter to be opened after my grandparents' deaths. He knew I would become an historian.
Download Murder Among the Roses from kindle, kobo, omnilit etc
Matt Allenby investigates a murder in the small township of Taylors Crossing and finds he is falling in love with one of his suspects.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013


Buy print copy from

For those who have visited the Memorial Dome at Geraldton, the sadness of the loss of those young sailors and the futitlity of war still fills one though it happened over seventy years ago.


                 [Memorial Dome at Geraldton]    

HMAS Sydney, all lost in battle
                             with the German raider, Kormoran,
                             off the West Australian coast
                             near Carnarvon,
                             November 19th, 1941.                                       

Is that me
that iron woman
forever waving off her hero? 

Can you hear
from that place of garlanded mermaids
and siren songs? 

Your loins are hard and moist, my love.
I feel your corded muscles against my softness.
My milky breasts leak upon your chest.
Our daughter laughs and gurgles
while we make our son. 

Your lips are mine.
My body fires to your caress.
I cry my desire
and awake
to touch a vacant place. 

The hope that blazed has faded
to this wizened old woman
who now is me. 

And you.
A tiny seagull spreading its wings
on a dome of glass. 

Laurel Lamperd