keywords: Poetry

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

  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Why people don’t read modern poetry

    • Thuy On and Francis Bede
    • 19 August 2019
    4 Comments

    What about compoundnounsthatrunlike this. Something here about the glory of native bush even tho you have never been beyond zone 3 on PT. Add doleful '....' Beckettian misery here. (Phew, your 20th century Lit Minor was not a waste!) So winning so woke you never even zzz.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Parliamentary circles

    • Sandra Renew
    • 12 August 2019
    2 Comments

    On the Circle driving around the Parliament ... you say it's all swings and roundabouts, a circumlocutory carousel, a beauty of tautology, movement continuity ... no pause to merge, roundabout way of saying, you will never be us.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    An Italian kiss

    • Meg Dolan
    • 05 August 2019
    4 Comments

    He proceeded to move in with silence. His eyelash touched her cheek first, then his lips. Only one with an expert heart could get it this right, she thought to herself, as he kissed the right, then left cheek, pressing his fig-lips precisely in the right place.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    New points of view found in translation

    • Neve Mahoney
    • 05 August 2019
    3 Comments

    Translations have a knack for defamiliarising English and how we think language and storytelling works. They also expose English-speaking readers to literary movements and times in history of which they might not otherwise have much knowledge. Work is being done to broaden the published translations we read.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    The sometimes ironic perception of 'things'

    • Brian Matthews
    • 02 August 2019
    4 Comments

    Robert Harris' The Gang of One ranges through Harris' five published books and a number of uncollected poems. Early work grows from his occasionally lonely, knockabout life and reveals not only a talent for catching the essence of fleeting memories and perceptions but also a mordant touch that gives edge to memory.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    He rang

    • B. N. Oakman
    • 29 July 2019

    A voice made for poetry, asking of you post surgery, your whereabouts in the labyrinth of cures. I spoke of blind turns and errors, of kindness, though mainly your courage. He recalled his one big scare, declared he'd not want to swap.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Before your interment

    • Rory Harris
    • 22 July 2019
    1 Comment

    I left the memorial and at home dug deep into the garden, stacking bricks to retain what was left of the beds, to hold back the fall of earth ...

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Pro bono prodigal

    • Ian C. Smith
    • 15 July 2019
    4 Comments

    Wandering out of sorts around the lake, my thoughts backward now there is more past than future, I see a boy and girl on a school day wearing uniforms I recognise from when my son arranged his to resemble the garb of an urchin.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Counting stars

    • Marilyn Humbert
    • 08 July 2019
    3 Comments

    Her forearm itches, brick wall rough against her back; she counts stars, a rosary, alpha, beta, epsilon, earning the master's cut, enough for her next hit of smack.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    After Rilke: Visitation of the Virgin

    • Wally Swist
    • 01 July 2019
    4 Comments

    Windswept Judean hills. Not by the sheer vista below could her abundance ever be measured; striding, with each step she believed no one could transcend the largesse she carried.

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Gaetano decided to leave

    • Aaron Lembo
    • 24 June 2019
    4 Comments

    A student of Ethics and Philosophy, aspiring librettist, Gaetano Leigh read dusty books on the 16th century Jesuit priest Matteo Ricci in the basement of the Central Library ... Daily Gaetano imagined sailing the South China Sea re-reading catholic theology written to entice the scholarly Confucians ...

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  • ARTS AND CULTURE

    Ismene in transit

    • Lisa Brockwell
    • 18 June 2019
    6 Comments

    The women are not veiled, the men don't stop to look at the golden boys kicking footballs on giant screens ... Each one I pass is a person, held here by decree, by a boulder placed across the mouth. If I walk through a temple built by slaves, sending a pittance home to countries too poor for anyone to bother waging war over ... then, who am I?

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