Keywords: Poetry
There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Najma Sambul
- 11 February 2020
2 Comments
The group had come together by the chance enquiry from one churchgoer who asked another if they could dedicate time to this — to us. So, we clambered into a mini van with our meagre possessions, and the myths and half-truths we knew about Australia followed suit.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Andrew Hamilton
- 10 February 2020
6 Comments
After the fire/they found a nail preserved in glass/and piles of dust and ash. After the fire/this place lost its memory/of trees cleared, a slab hut/of fences, a verandahed timber house/and a circle of orange trees.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Ross Jackson
- 03 February 2020
With blazes nearby, TV news bars well on fire, we human animals are panicked, feel the shudder of rotors above our roofs. Very soon thirsty helitankers will thunder down to drink from our neighbourhood lake. May we remember tomorrow, nothing will be more worried than pelicans in broken reeds, the night heron in its naked tree.
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RELIGION
- Rita Tognini
- 28 January 2020
5 Comments
It's definitely the flesh and blood you, Thérèse, not the Little Flower of church statues and holy pictures, milky with sanctity. It's the frank-faced-child-in-lace-trimmed-dress-and-sturdy-boots you. It's the fourteen year old, hair-atop-head-in-a-bun-to-look-older-for-the-Bishop-so-he'll-let-you-take-the-veil you.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- James Orrock
- 20 January 2020
2 Comments
Rest in late afternoon silence, the vision quest in flight / Red ramparts attenuate to pink mauve in muted light; / Only gold could slake the Depression fever of Lewis Lasseter / Lead to an alchemy of empty jam tins and broken beer bottles / Fibula and femur disjoint, wrecked on iron pyrite reefs.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Bill Rush, Rory Harris, Collen Keating
- 13 January 2020
2 Comments
It's as though it's suddenly turned winter, the way the earth is covered over and the grey stretch of ash is drawn up to its chin like a blanket. And though it's day, the bird-less quiet is a kind of night, and everything we ever thought we knew has been turned upside down, the first now last, and the last first.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Marlene Marburg, Grant Fraser
- 16 December 2019
3 Comments
It rose in its tall verticals from the grace and welcome of the earth, / That swooned far, far below, / As canny masons hefted the limestone / Into vast beatitudes of grace; / Shipwrights inverted their minds to groom the oak, / So that it would soar, / As if a celtic monk had charmed a serpent into a holy phrase.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Paul Hetherington
- 09 December 2019
2 Comments
You don't know the word for butter, so you spend seconds miming the way it froths in the pan. The owner of the shop says nothing. You want to buy their famous pesto, but it's nowhere on display. You speak to other customers, who nod and frown. Eventually you point at fragrant cheese and a melon that smells of ripest green.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Jena Woodhouse
- 02 December 2019
After spirit-lamps were doused the house drew in upon itself; its clutch of dreamers moaned and tossed in stifling mosquito nets — each isolating sac of mesh a Magellanic cloud.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Philip Harvey
- 29 November 2019
12 Comments
Obituarists sharpened their quills in 2014 when word had it the death of Clive James was imminent. Since then we have witnessed a late flowering of poetry, reviews and articles tinged with mortality that revealed to the last his Twainian flair for journalistic self-promotion, albeit in the internet age. Now the quills are out in earnest.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- John Allison
- 25 November 2019
2 Comments
I dreamed Thoreau told me that whenever I was lost, if only I'd remember that it was not I but simply those familiar places of the world that were lost then I would realise at last the trick of standing upright here ... Everywhere, departure opens wide its gates into the nothing that awaits us in the dusk
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Chris Wallace-Crabbe
- 18 November 2019
3 Comments
Staring toward the stringy picture through a linguistic lens I have begun to see that the elderly magic, deplored by most religions, was a daughter of coincidence mathematically robed in some downright glorious colours.
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