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When Josephine is not creating visual art, she is writing. Here is a little taste and if you would like to read more, contact Josephine.

That’s all there is…


I look for you 
through the trees,
in the shadows.
Hoping in the filtered light you will
suddenly appear and give me that look.
That’s all there is now…
That and your art.
The way you could
merge rocks to make highlights of cornices,
spots to put things.
Pathways of woven creek rocks
smooth and soft under foot.
I wander along your bush tracks,
treading where l think you trod.
Sitting on fallen logs
where patches are worn.
I search hollows in trees 
for some secret message,
a hidden tin,
any sort of gem.
I listen…
wait, wait…
Then the wind sends leaves swirling down.


Josephine Allen 2014 (Third prize in ASPI Figure it Now Poetry competition

Crouching Man

(The first section of a story that won Second Prize in ASPI Figure it Now 2013)


Over the last week or more, Marion could not remember how long she had dreamt of him. Now it was real, he was helping her to sit up, she could feel his wiry strength, smell his smell.  He was asking her questions and all she could do was cry.

There was that gigantic sea, the mountainous wave that carried the raft up and up, as she clung to its floor like a spider on a leaf. 

“You brought the little boat!”  She said and leaned against him. 

Marion is thinking of Mellie, dear old wise Mellie with her blind eye and a deaf ear. At the time she knew they had stopped looking for her, she knew like a person who suddenly loses sight then gains hearing. 

Gerald is thinking that he should radio the authorities, but something about her stops him.  She is huddled in a blanket in the seat next to him, tearing off little bits from a sandwich he had given her and darting looks at the sky.


To read more contact, Josephine.

The Art of Eavesdropping

(The first section of the story, 2017)

I didn’t mean to listen, but her voice was clear and the tables were close.
…twelve sessions, Mindfulness, Basic Meditation, Aromatherapy, Past Lives, Symbolism of Dreams…
Please don’t say Crystals! I thought.
She was sitting at the table when l arrived, waiting with her drink and some pamphlets. Now l know she is touting workshops. She had risen purposely when a large tall lady walked in and said. “Eva,” as though she knew her and then shook her hand and said, “It is lovely to meet you.”
It was pay week and l was shouting myself a good wholesome lunch, l liked the café for its light and the varied reading materials.  I went back to the article in the shiny magazine.


Want to read more contact, Josephine

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