Poems
-
The Stairs
By Jill JonesThe house is white, that I remember, plain graceful,
and ungainly, the missing colonnade, they say
everything has been replaced, it’s all as if — we’re guessing
about a stuffed penguin, a copy of The Edinburgh Review 1829. -
Lucky Charm
By Virginia JealousThere's water in Lake George.
Been ten years, the locals say.
You're lucky, they say.
That wide, still lake -
Pride Parade 99
By Scott ThouardDykes on bikes handle grip
A medley of men
Hip hula divagated divas
Float with squeaky wheels -
The Hunger Games
By Joel EphraimsLanguage holds total control. We are able to rest a kind of control from it sometimes, perhaps, but it remains the larger controlling force.
It is both magical and violent. Benevolent and maniacal.
It is God and much more than her.
Your son today, a behemoth’s lamppost tomorrow. -
Endemic Problem
By Jake DennisStretched on a wet log
carrying a house
as small as a 20c coin
in which it can fit -
Stand Tall
By GT SewellThe wind carried the words through Bakery Hill.
For the white, and, the blue. The blood that was spilt.
So many have gathered, so many shall fall.
We are in this together, by oath we have sworn. -
Sky
By Martin HarrisonIt’s taken a very long while to work out what the disturbing feature is in the photo collection of mostly petty criminals in the Justice and Police Museum collection. It still strikes me as a largely inexplicable feature, where I’m searching for words to describe what could be called a type of “pointlessness” in the images. Such a term obviously… -
A View of Elizabeth Bay House
By Jill JonesI could have written about lost friendship
the always disappearing, you did not need
so much money then to live here, so we watched
the harbour, looked down on Boomerang from -
Who Was The Halloween Woman?
By Joel EphraimsThe woman who gave us the most lollies with the most enthusiasm every year. A stretched white summer dress over her rolls like an enlarged pastry wrapper greasy with afternoon shadow, swaths of lollies and chip packets glinting in there too with their inside silver skins, once a five dollar note and two dollar and one dollar coins. The smell of c… -
The Floating Palais
By Mike LaddMoored to catch a summer breeze,
the vision floats.
Its cupolas and promenade,
hall of Arabian gold, blue and terracotta, -
Less of You
By Tricia Dearbornfor Kerry Leves
Your tooth-grinder’s ragged grin
is still so you
I’m surprised to learn walking’s -
No Clock
By Matt NormanLight carries between floorboards,
I follow it; trace a line back to my eyes
And the creases beneath them.
This building has no plaque -
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. -
60, Tapestry’d sitting room, mint glass vase and bracken spray.
By Astrid LorangeFor you, LL. No need to even mention the category of the
husband. The oil lamps are dim, but you can still read everything.
Even if you had a hundred sons, they’d all be unionists. We take great
comfort for this. Postwar, no one will notice you if you wash in -
A Bright Winter's Morning
By Kate Middletonafter Walter Withers
Beyond white houses
The haze and frost of daybreak on the flats
In these morning hours a filtered light -
A1 Bakery
By Luke BeesleyAssembled incidents – no sadness. Nothing as obvious. The word collect-
ion. A collection of poems (grief) the clipped organisation in the word and
working to define it, I sit down. The television is reflected in the capsicum.
A table over, a woman blushes opposite her sister. Unmistakable. -
Mother's Lost Song
By Maureen O'KeefeMothers has disappeared never to be sung again. So who will sing mothers song this song
is ancient as the land itself. Mothers song has disappeared like a whisper in the wind.
Through sands of time this song echoed through a thousand years. It’s to me but a fading
memory but I still hear her singing in the wind. Her singing echoing through the des… -
To The Girls With The Sledge Hammers To Cleopatra of Gondwana Land Sexy Ghoul Of The High Rise Buildings By Maximilian Draconious
By Joel EphraimsA blond one to visit I
The sleeping dragon of the TV guide scribbled title
At eleven thirty am after her painting class
This suburban Monday morning. -
-
Wollombi
By Berndt Sellheimarriving sudden
down goanna tail curves
a stoneyard o shipwrecks