Keywords: New Australian Poems
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Mark Austin
- 20 March 2012
2 Comments
A drink from the sole is more refreshing than any bottled river. I felt the cushion of grass. It did not exclude, but wrapped its spines around me, tickled my dying ankles to rattle, greasing the bearings of my toes.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
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
- 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
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
- Matthew Davies
- 21 February 2012
2 Comments
If you try on any more religions, torn, weary and grey like many a tweed jacket from St Vinnie's ... they're never your size.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Barry Gittins and P. S. Cottier
- 14 February 2012
Try a Cobra Clutch Bulldog; an Elevated Gutbuster; Wheelbarrow Driver; Gorilla Press Slam; a Frankensteiner. There's always the Alley Oop, where you hoist him, (the opponent) on your shoulders. But be aware of the possibility of take-off ... Who will be riding whom?
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ARTS AND CULTURE
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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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Ian C. Smith
- 31 January 2012
Although most are probably long dead, they seem happy, even excited. Perhaps they will toss triumphant hats. The wind might favour their team, even steal tossed hats, but not hope.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Anne Elvey
- 24 January 2012
1 Comment
From the glistening trees the chorus of what was said became me, before I registered the sacrifice. Now from the yes, a small face looks up mute. My eyes are still selfish and my ears hunt a magpie's repertoire. She spills it on the blue page.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Kevin Gillam
- 17 January 2012
2 Comments
The chant of the unseens — ripple in a magpie's throat — as the sigh of a city's prayer cushions — forgiveness has the weight of faith and cloud. And then rain, symphonic on tin, washing walls of doubt.
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Barry Gittins
- 03 January 2012
1 Comment
Vile denunciations and allegations waft across the vast expanse of space and time. Flatulent Dutch ovens of bigotry aloft fly, as adult, equal love's tagged 'sin', not raft to finding solace, as surely as the Made seeks the Maker's consoling deeps. Published 21 November 2011
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ARTS AND CULTURE
- Peter Gebhardt
- 20 December 2011
This place is bigger than any kingdom. It opens out, boundary-less, to everyone everywhere. It doesn't matter how many come, and the skateboarders will always get a seat at the banquet, where they will taste the wine and food, learn to sing with the host and rejoice in his good.
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