Poets & Poems
Byron
By The Disappearing Public Submissions
By Stephen Thomas
Wind rushes through the car
Shadows carpet the road
A narrow line of jagged grey
Curls through the trees
A house nestled in the slopes
The world ...
Sydney Town Hall Tree
By The Disappearing Public Submissions
By Steve Denham
In my teens, Sydney’s flora
brushed the inner city and CBD
with green - but the first tree
I really ‘saw’ ...
curtsying to a zephyr at the ...
The Disappearing
The Disappearing has been redeveloped and we invite you to submit your poems about fading and disappeared places and spaces. Explore now »
My Grandfather’s Ice Pigeons
By Robert Adamson
My grandfather would walk into the house,
on a summer evening after his work, then empty
his catch of mudcrabs into the bath-tub;
they'd flow out in a stream ...
The Confessions of Saint Augustine
By Robert Adamson
'Meanwhile I was sinning more and more'
Saint Augustine
I suffered when Una my first love
was torn from ...
Alofa at the Vai
By Christine Afoa
First day in Sā
Us fia-palagis go swimming
At the vai during low tide:
My four younger sisters,
Two uluka’e brothers walk behind us.
Our cuz from NZ,
Teine ...
Notes on the River 8
By Adam Aitken
Voilà! Slums levelled, wharves, boat ramps,
central planning.
Whites, Koreans, Chinese
in cravats and big sombreros
sip their Caiperoskas
in the Foreign Correspondents Club,
the Nikon 1960 meets
Phnom Penh ...
I Smell Buffalo in Cambodia
By Adam Aitken
after Tomaž Šalamun
I smell buffalo in Cambodia, ruins in Angkor.
I had come from a rich disinfected nation
to one overflowing with frozen steaks
and a disarming happiness.
No ...
Fable
By Adam Aitken
That year they rode low in the water
on a ballast of oaths and convicted emotions
moved on to springtime ports
past the Pig and Sows reef
and the ridiculously ...
The Anti-travel Travel Poem
By Adam Aitken
The anti-travel travel poem suggests the road
romance & regrets
the endless paperwork we left behind
I dreamed of walking boots that wouldn't lace
anti-travellers can never get lost
in ...
On the Chemin de Fer
By Adam Aitken
On railway land
Chemin de Fer,
avenue of graded lime.
On each side weeds:
broom, juniper,
perennial oak.
Almond trees in
pink white
like cherry bloom
but tougher, more industrial ...
Pol Pot in Paris
By Adam Aitken
Oh happy child, kindly teacher – were you a fake?
Like you I'm taciturn
but when I give an order who's to hear?
Paris, I found it cold but ...
Missing Persons
By Adam Aitken
From Tokyo to the Gold Coast they’d come. They were in the
papers, instant scoop, apologising, and on the box. In the
lunch break we talked about the old ...
Things to do (Heart)
By Jordie Albiston
a. Find heart, and place hand upon it. b. Time
to metronome beat. c. Empty above of all
things earthly. d. Fill with compassion. e. Sleep. f.
Remove heart while ...
Glimpses and ghosts on Larakia land
By Kaye Aldenhoven
The 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 ...
Fetish Commodity
By Ali Alizadeh
I used to be brave. Emancipation
eludes me now. There’s nothing real
in what I get paid to do. Rhetoric
and composition, in-text citation
as useful to my ‘students ...
