Poems
-
Noon Swim
By LK HoltFor N & T
At the river's swollen joint we dived in,
suddenly light and jointless
as our six feet mixed the warmed crust of water -
Western Line
By Winnie DunnRooty Hill Station
Mum drops me off under
the moldy overpass -
spanish fiction 2
By Michael Farrellwe were playing a mind game. but there
was a real
attraction. he was bookish,
unsuccessful; my secret -
Sustainable Sydney
By Jane GibianThe city is like an overcrowded brain
So we use autopilot in our electric car,
Then sit back to relax and dream.
Solar energy powers the city lights -
Hunger
By Chloe Yelena MillerMy hunger is a bit snooty.
I crave sugar covered beignets,
plump fried artichoke hearts,
paper thin pizza crust, -
The Queue
By Rebecca RushbrookI am standing in line
to petition for somewhere to live.
Thirty six of us, socially distanced,
uneasy as we meet each other’s eyes. -
The Best Little Brothel on Parramatta Rd
By Sydnye AllenMASSAGE 508
Parramatta Road is outside my apartment.
Coles delivery trucks tackle supercharged cars
down towards Auburn, Flemington and Granville all day. -
Agave victoriae (Royal Agave)
By Maria TakolanderPorcelain perfect:
such composure beneath the
wheeling, star-streaked sky.
-
Wollombi
By Berndt Sellheimarriving sudden
down goanna tail curves
a stoneyard o shipwrecks -
[Kabul could be the beginning of every word.]
By Zahra Mandgarکابل شروع هر سخن میبود شاید که
کابل رفیقِ جان من میبود شاید که
در کوچه هایش عاشقی همواره جریان داشت -
Low tide
By Miranda Gillam GrantWarm room,
low tide
I left the earth and the humid air
I left myself within myself -
Glimpses and ghosts on Larakia land
By Kaye AldenhovenThe Pix, forbidden by Nanna, so I was forced to sneakiness,
gave me first glimpses of Fannie Bay - scandalous gaol in far Darwin.
Prisoners chained to each other, wearing only nagas. (Oh Nanna,
you didn’t want your granddaughter to see their shameful treatment.) -
A Philosophic Analysis of the Modern Homosapien in it's Less-Than-Natural Environment
By Gerard ElsonWandering blindly, searching for that which cannot be found. The futile quest for divinity long
abandoned, replaced by instantaneous stimulations. A shrink-wrapped soul and
fast food emotions, saturated in self, love now a thing of the movies. Sexual
convenience and financial surplus- revenge, how sweet it is. Cardboard mothers -
Our Son after the Q Bar
By Julie MacleanFirst there was the letter
found in the sports bag
on the bathroom floor
dumped like a wet towel -
Thinning our little herd
By Benjamin DoddsFor weeks
we had Baskerville
hounds in our heads
sweeping bold arcs -
En Route
By Jake Denniswhen I was okay.” A cool cat with Sinatra-
blue eyes at the back of the bus, he rides
with a grin each bump feet steady then slides
onto the street’s sunny side with laughter. -
Walker of dead streets
By Lyrikline Collaboration PoetsBy Jacques Roubaud
Translated by Claire Nashar
To François Caradec
-
-
Longing, Wanting
By Stiff GinsLonging, Wanting
My edge, a blade
Slice through air, slice through air
No breath, no rain