keywords: New Australian Poetry

There are more than 200 results, only the first 200 are displayed here.

  • AUSTRALIA

    Time to re-imagine the Australian flag

    • Philip Harvey
    • 11 May 2012
    50 Comments

    The readiness of Australians to design a flag that is agreed to and honoured ought to be on the agenda of any forward-looking party. Otherwise a day will come when a design will be foisted on us that no one likes and has no distinctive meaning. One only has to listen to the national anthem to know Australians are capable of embracing second best.

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  • AUSTRALIA

    Budget leaves baked beans for Struggle Street

    • John Falzon
    • 10 May 2012
    6 Comments

    The Budget confirms one thing that both sides of politics agree on, and that's their belief in the existence of an undeserving poor. There's nothing wrong with bringing home the bacon for middle Australia. But the people living at the rough end of Struggle Street are trying to get by on baked beans.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Train gaze

    • Various
    • 01 May 2012
    1 Comment

    Her deep eyes glance up from the page
 without perceiving me, the hidden camera trained
 on her by my unbroken gaze. 

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Problems with atheism

    • Various
    • 17 April 2012
    14 Comments

    The problem with being an atheist is the lack of possibilities, a world to come into being, a kingdom to be worked for, blood and sweated for, any hope of future travels curtailed with science.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The virtues of hoarding

    • Various
    • 10 April 2012
    4 Comments

    Let me have things about me not thrown out! Reminding things are made by hands, spent from the earth. You can't take any with you, that is sure, nor likely leave behind. But when they ask, 'Do you have a widget, a grommet, a poem by ...?' yes, I have.

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  • RELIGION

    Easter manifesto

    • John Falzon
    • 06 April 2012
    10 Comments

    The Easter motif of suffering and resurrection comes alive in movements of social change, when people who have been treated as nothing proclaim by their collective dreaming we are everything. For those who hunger for justice it is a sin to be disorganised, when the misery we confront is well organised.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Australia's mystic river

    • Poet
    • 03 April 2012
    3 Comments

    That river is almost embarrassed at the space it occupies — professionally shocked to be spotted despite the camouflage dust it wears. It scrawls on the grey-soil plains. This consecrated vellum is read by cockatoos.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Love with an open hand

    • Various
    • 13 March 2012

    When I'm with you, I take off my rings, unlatch my watch and untie my hair. And it's so quiet, so so quiet, like a film without a soundtrack.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Last of the cat poems

    • Karl Cameron-Jackson and Mike Hopkins
    • 06 March 2012
    5 Comments

    With fresh blood in your mouth you are no longer cat, house-trained to please. Now you kill wantonly, revel in the fear you invoke in others. Man was created, just like you, to run free in the killing-fields ... Is this what God meant you to be? To revert to what you once were?

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Catholic writers' agnostic appeal

    • Lucas Smith
    • 29 February 2012
    7 Comments

    The priests are ineluctably compromised: one has capitulated to state pressure to marry; the other has fathered a daughter and drugs himself with alcohol. But the author's achievement, and a mark of his faith, is his ability to 'distinguish ... between the man and the office'.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Jesus and his kids

    • Various
    • 28 February 2012
    3 Comments

    they say what's with the whole guy on the cross thing, man, that's macabre, that's sick, you people look at a guy dying of torture every day, you hang him in your churches and houses and offices, you carry a dying guy in your pocket, that's just weird, and I try to say he's a dad ...

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Abominable blood ties

    • Various
    • 07 February 2012
    1 Comment

    My crumpled iris-rim lip is her lip; the fine spoked wheel beneath my grimacing eye has etched itself deep with years upon her face. The wet red meat of my viscera is made of her, a shy-hood I cannot take off ... Why are you doing this to me?

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