Keywords: New Australian Poems
There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Stuart Barnes
- 21 August 2012
1 Comment
Dark shadow, I don't love you anymore. (You're deadly, the sea of Ezekiel; the flame forever roiling the bush ...) I don't think I ever did.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Philip Salom
- 14 August 2012
Death is different at night ... A cool light we gently call dawn enters the tree tops and so enters me. I am entering the next world ... Can it be in some secret way I am dead?
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ARTS AND CULTURE
Our species believes it progresses without limitation. We shout when a swimmer wins silver, 'That's no inspiration'. As humans pound forward, no 'burden of care' limitation ... We deserve only winners, our species the sole inspiration.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Louise McKenna
- 31 July 2012
3 Comments
At times the music holds him still, and a jonquil light beams through two pinholes in his brain, singing of a caged soul.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Paul Mitchell
- 24 July 2012
Blessed are those with empty chests, soles ripped from their shoes, fed to dogs. But most blessed are those who stole the hound scraps, nailed them to their feet and kept on marching.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Maria Takolander
- 17 July 2012
3 Comments
Sophie, a Malagay slave in Mauritius, torched a barn housing a collection of leather straps — the flames soaring like the sounds of the black horses inside — and was packed off in a ship-sized crate to New South Wales.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
I want you to list the epiphanies in your lives, says the lecturer. We'll build poems around them... I ponder, but cannot manage to think of one. Does he really believe people have several? My extra years are like binoculars peered through from the wrong end, shrinking past significance to present inconsequence.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Philip Harvey
- 03 July 2012
7 Comments
More than once I observed him walking from the Medley Building of the University of Melbourne to Newman College reading a book, not looking up. It was the book leading the human through the everyday world.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Peter Steele
- 03 July 2012
5 Comments
Here's the mint still on my hands. A wreath, so Pliny thought was 'good for students, to exhilarate their minds'. Late in the course, I’ll settle for a sprig or two.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Tessa McMahon
- 26 June 2012
9 Comments
The bed on which I lie is scientifically sprung, approved by chiropractors ... and blessed from on high by Klimt ... Made by a woman Timor-thin, cross-legged on concrete.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
The hands which pressed triggers, wielded knives at innocent throats, were once the gentle sons of others playing in sand pits, shadowed from scorching winds, while I ferried my own to schoolyard bunkers and safe horizons.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Karl Cameron-Jackson
- 12 June 2012
9 Comments
My dad and his RSL mates repeatedly told us 'Vietnam was a toy-boy war, only 501 died' as though numbers are a marker of grief. My tears often fall in an unremitting flood for eight mates who committed suicide soon after they arrived back home.
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