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Keywords: Four Poems

  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Here comes the man

    • John Cranmer
    • 24 September 2018
    2 Comments

    The one coming as king on the donkey-colt, declaring to the heart of the nation a way of universal peace, a way of confronting the powers of militarism and political compromise.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    If we ever got to be what we so want to be

    • Brian Doyle
    • 24 May 2018
    2 Comments

    'It's hard for a guy to cry endlessly and helplessly. It is. Some remote part of you shouts Man, get it together, this is totally beyond the bounds. But I couldn't stop.' Four previously unpublished poems by Portland author Brian Doyle, who died on 27 May last year.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Medical school reunion

    • John Frawley
    • 19 March 2018
    4 Comments

    We the remnants, largely spent, professors, teachers, beloved practitioners, scientists, world leaders, pioneers, a menagerie of specialists, some honoured citizens, the sick, the grey, the bent, the pill dependent, divorcees, the widowed, the saints, the sinners, bound and equal, together, all as one, gathered again, searching out new pastures, denying mankind's stark mortality.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Germaine Greer at Heathrow

    • Ian C. Smith
    • 26 February 2018
    1 Comment

    I once read The Female Eunuch, the only bloke taking a course on feminism, admired Greer's chutzpah, knew she lived in England where I came to dwell on the edge of belonging. I mourn unplanned lives, mine, others', back stories, each of us carrying private clouds of sadness. What happened next, that distant dawn?

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Remember there are sixty million

    • Geoff Page
    • 29 January 2018
    3 Comments

    There must be something in between those world-wide 60 million urgers bobbing in their boats ... Nailing up our own 400, give or take a few, to crosses cut from tropic palms via chainsaws made in China, intending that the westward waft from all the dried and dying will stop those wallowers in Java from putting out to sea ...

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Don't jumble your words: Elegy for Peter Gebhardt

    • Dougal Hurley and Peter Gebhardt
    • 11 September 2017
    3 Comments

    Belief brings solitary repose, no more mimicking gallant pens, poaching pips from wiser minds. Know the moment, listen and find the ephemeral and the luminous born and nurtured in reciprocity.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Tomatoes, harbour

    • Rory Harris
    • 22 August 2017
    1 Comment

    tomatoes you fade into the hospital white above your head a row of floral Hallmark cards as a husband’s garden once filled every available backyard space with colour the glasshouse arrived after retirement

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Another stranger on a tram

    • Peta Yowie
    • 05 June 2017
    5 Comments

    It's a no eye contact sport, when I see a girl I like. She's putting lip balm on her lips, as the morning scenery slips by like a young child getting out of his pyjamas. I stare at everyone but her, because her face is like a burning sun ... It's only as I go to get off she looks up and smiles. I smile back, I've done a few miles with these smiles. I'd like to peel the pastry off and eat the sweet thing underneath. I catch my breath like a butterfly in a net. She's another stranger I'll never know the destination of.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The power of poetry in the age of Twitter

    • Gillian Bouras
    • 19 May 2017
    13 Comments

    Does poetry still matter in our Twitter society? Such was the question that caught my eye during a random Google session. The answers consisted of some lugubrious comments to the effect that poetry, like the novel, is dying. It is hard to believe that poets were once considered celebrities, and that poetry was once a pre-eminent form of entertainment. We also generally refrain from mentioning poetry and politics in the same breath. 'Twas not always thus.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Clues so far to the magic in reality

    • Darby Hudson
    • 08 May 2017
    4 Comments

    Repeat your name over and over and it doesn't make sense. Being able to hear your name across a noisy crowded room. Being able to see things in the dark by not looking at them directly. Walking down an old path brings back a conversation you had in exactly the same location years ago. Your handwriting looks exactly like your father's. Revisiting a childhood park destroys the memory and paves over it with the newer, boring adult memory. When you chase something you can't have it.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Who was that luckless politician?

    • Geoff Page
    • 01 May 2017
    3 Comments

    Who was that luckless politician, federal, I think, gone now from so many memories, including mine? Male, a sort of suited fledgling, older maybe than he looked, the guy who feelingly achieved, while reaching for the aphoristic wisdom of his people, the verbal train-wreck we remember so much better than than the 'issue' or his features as they pleaded with the swooping of a lens: I'm torn between two places and a hard rock?

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    This intimate proximity

    • Peter Evans and Brian Doyle
    • 10 April 2017
    8 Comments

    Yes, you did follow him into the palace courtyard. You had boldly vowed to follow him to the end. Now you are there. They are torturing him within as you sit with the guards without, outside in that damned courtyard and wait by the dying fire. 'What am I doing here?' you ask yourself, uneasy and lonely in the dark glow. 'But at least I am here.'

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