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There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.
These unpublished treasures of my father’s are sure to strike a chord amongst those readers whose hearts wander among the more hidden byways, as I have discovered within myself.
To be complicit, must you share the same intent? If one says nothing, does nothing, does this signify complicity? Is there then such a thing as an innocent bystander?
'From window and doorface painted in carnival, and / your foxing spirit here for a term / becoming again and again the flambeau it carries, / dear dirty Dublin a thing of fire.' A poem recollecting visits to the Jesuit-run Belvedere College, in the north of Dublin, where James Joyce completed most of his secondary schooling. (From 2007)
An elegy doesn’t need to be written straight after a death... and maybe one’s own death catches up before the obituary we write is published. It might be something like re-arranging modernism into structurally sound lines, or discussing the context of metaphors in poems about London and friendship.
Les Murray once confessed it was his mission to 'irritate the hell out of the eloquent who would oppress my people,' by being a paradox that their categories can’t assimilate: the Subhuman Redneck who writes poems. And therein lies the ‘poem’ of Les Murray: complex, contradictory, sublime, and sometimes ready to whip his enemies with a scorpion’s tail.
Can a chatbot write a poem? The answer reveals something about the heart of human interaction. True connection, like true poetry, requires discomfort, vulnerability and a richness of experience that defies the simplicity of algorithms.
Nam Le is one of the strangest writers in the history of Australian literature and is also one of the most incandescently brilliant — which is very weird if you bear in mind that his primary claim to legendary status is a book of short fiction published in 2008. With 36 Ways of Writing a Vietnamese Poem, Le returns with a new work that encapsulates the brilliance and complexity that fans and critics have come to expect.
Some people pray in church, some pray alone, some share their prayer through song, and others use poems as prayer. Each carries its own line of faith that they believe unites them with something outside themselves. This union is reached through words written and words said.
I have played Gandhi, King Tut, gangster, giant, elf, / but a lifetime of lifetimes destroyed my mental health: if you’re all things to all men, you’re no one to yourself.
A forgotten, faded poem by Judith Wright, found in a second-hand book, explores the tension between humanity and the rise of computers in the 1960s, artfully questioning the supposedly superior nature of these early machines, reminding us of the enduring value of human experiences and qualities.
so across this bridge of days / lurks a hollowed-out light / picking over the shattered glass of streets / a day when sun / apportions out / this impartial / where the cut & paste / the haste / of swallows is knitting up / all the available light.
In most circles poetry doesn’t matter. It doesn’t put bread on the table, nor raise people to revolt nor even make news unless a grizzled footballer is outed for secretly writing poems. Even in churches poems and hymns are altered to improve their orthodoxy in matters of faith, gender, race or modernity, but rarely their poetic quality.
1-12 out of 200 results.