Schlagwort: poems

tribalfish jumping stone fences running thru the bush melissa and I waving sticks above our heads avoiding the mag pie bite two twelve year olds tripping over rocks and shrubs thru paddocks singing songs at cows jumping stone fences from field to field climbing the rings of age that circle the mountain above a green… lish weiterlesen

Three Poems Skilled Vacancy “More skilled vacancies on offer.” And I aspire to be a skilled vacancy, always to know the right thing not to do when anything enters my orbit, just how to side-step it or guide it over my shoulder like a well-mannered boy practising Ju Jitsu. A skilled vacancy will reply to… Graeme Miles weiterlesen

The Fall Press On Take short views of life – never further than dinner or tea. – Rev. Sydney Smith Press on, through the delicate day of your ritual reality: the flags on the line, the forks in the drawer, the filial clichés calling from coat-hangers on the back of the laundry door. The verdict… Jordie Albiston weiterlesen

Three Poems At the salt-rimmed coast (1) Young men shout for a red bikini languid under a blue umbrella. A dog barks, lunges at a football bobbing out of reach on modest waves which rush into the hot embrace of yellow sand, & far out, painted against the convergence of blue, a white yacht points… Ian C. Smith weiterlesen

Four Poems ODE TO CLARICE BECKETT, PAINTER (1887-1935) And what else could a father do, but carefully edge you aside? His baby didn’t care for cars and races, so he left your believers on the doorstep. All the old money in Bendigo couldn’t get a ring on your finger, and so he delivered your rope… Bonny Cassidy weiterlesen

My God’s Name Is Andrena LA TURQUOISE LEVANTE (THE RISING TURQUOISE) If the fields of boxes Turned grey overnight, with The seeds of birth sowing under them … When the death of language is consummated. Stridency – Mute!       Before the bastille ears Of working men and women … If the perfumes of each and… R. J. Nicolet weiterlesen

The Fugitive Writings Four Fugitive Poems of John Heywood Otherly They never-never me, in my difference between rock and hard place, mining companies paying Fred Williams to paint a singular scraggy tree against an exuded backdrop: that’s narrative, our story, our Cenzoic conversations, tektites glowing art deco, otherly glass, impacted. The Sand of Frenchman’s Bay… John Kinsella weiterlesen

Domain Clothing Piles, Dachau It seems the clothing piles reach up to brush the clouds. All those coats, those lovingly put away coats, taken off on cold Polish nights and placed in closets. Rumpled dresses with the leaves of Warsaw parks still on their hems. A million pinafores. An avalanche of hats. All trouser pockets… Ian McBryde weiterlesen