Keywords: Modern Australian Poems
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Moya Pacey
- 25 August 2015
4 Comments
In the dark cage of the village ... They shaved her black curls, closed her green eyes, scooped the body into a sack - threw it into the cold river.
READ MORE 
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Jordie Albiston
- 18 August 2015
Her every lover, her filler of dreams, her kisser of broken & bruised. She watches him through the pills, she misses him when he leaves, whispers to foot that when she recovers she will love him for ever & ever, but now he is heading back down the stairs & she stares at his absence.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Isabella Fels
- 28 July 2015
4 Comments
How I love spending good quality time with you | You twist yourself around me giving me no space. I just want to hurl you into space | You're leaving, that's a fact, you said it straight out, with hardly any tact | I'm so alone being without you, I can still feel your glare | Thank you for giving me your love.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Lea McInerney and Sandra Renew
- 21 July 2015
The woman holds up her hand to stop him speaking, with one finger pushes her black-framed glasses back into place, continues tapping keys in a large face calculator. The tiny baby in the old pram sleeps. Will our children know the cost of it all?
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Jane Downing
- 14 July 2015
I will put my pinky round one arm, she'll do the same to the other. our knuckles will graze, purchase will slip on the smooth old bone. Thumbs will hanker to push against the head that binds the two arms. But our mother says, wait.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
Streets like the streets in Blue Velvet or Land of the Giants. I think I may have been the only poet.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
Fifty years ago well after my baptism my first holy communion & my confirmation I would have likely said – practising Catholic. Most friday nights back then I’d find myself with Father kneeling before him on the carpeted step of the confessional box my little red face pressed upwards to the grille.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Diane Fahey
- 24 March 2015
8 Comments
'If I'm deported back to Sri Lanka, torture is certain because I'm a Tamil.' On the day I hear of Leo's death I pass a tall maple, its star-like leaves, blood-red and flame-red, irradiated. The Australian government refused the visas applied for by Leo's family so that they might attend his funeral. As three Tamil men at a microphone sing a long hymn in Tamil the Basilica fills with an undertow of sound.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Diane Fahey
- 03 February 2015
2 Comments
The wind a cool shadow felt at my back: when the sun’s blaze slams into my chest, I am held between them as if both would claim me, pass through me. So grief, with its heart-heat, its pressuring shadows, lays claim, passes into and through us.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Bill Rush
- 02 December 2014
5 Comments
I hope no-one asks me what the preacher said ... for I'm looking south, where David strikes his harp in a riot of glass and the hymns wash over.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
- Brendan Ryan
- 26 August 2014
1 Comment
A topless man shuffles into Coles. The Big Issue seller is liked and avoided. Buskers who specialize with the night, streetlights mooning the spaces that never close.
READ MORE
-
ARTS AND CULTURE
Shamed me with his arithmetic, built me a balance beam... Let me practise, practise, practise:My body weighted all its edges, open to his eyes, the air, the sun.
READ MORE