how to wish upon a star
March 28, 2010 at 1:47 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 23 CommentsTags: meditation, poetry, writing
on the mildest night you float
balanced on the very apex of this
the prettiest blue-green globe
allow some anonymous sparkling
twinkle with hint of scented candle
to entreat your eye’s attention
there is a silence within
there is a silence without
which only in the absence
of intention, with out will,
your wish fulfills
foam:e
March 23, 2010 at 6:32 pm | Posted in australian poetry, contemporary poetry, poetry, writing | 26 CommentsTags: australian poetry, poetry
It is with tremendous pride that I announce the appearance of two of my poems in one of Australia’s oldest and most well-respected on-line poetry journals, Foam:e.
The two poems, “A Small Boy Holding Flowers” and “The Yellow Dress” are two of my favorites and I am glad they found a home in such a beautifully presented collection and in such excellent company. The journal also contains work by Stu Hatton, Jill Jones, Angela Gardner and Derek Motion.
Anyone with an interest in Australian contemporary poetry should pop over and spend an hour or two checking out the work of some of our best poets. (And check out my two poems too, if you care to.)
I have been away from the computer for a while and I am miles behind in my reading and commenting. I apologise for my absence. But I’m back…
badges
March 20, 2010 at 5:27 pm | Posted in writing | 17 CommentsTags: writing
“to do a dangerous thing with style is what I call art” Charles Bukowski
before humans invented language and language invented good and evil and good and evil invented god
no badgers nor badgering from which we all suffer insufferably the telling the tailing to not do again the already done, say badges of, oh no, not honour, a word which meant when,
thanking, Karl Marx whose revolution over ownership of the means of production mistook this i-magi-nation revolution of ownership of consciousness
who in thanking too gifts some merger in the dark pool of perpetual ancestry who
have always loved circles which tilted seem spirals,
some will grasp at good others lazily drift into a poor excuse for evil whilst we seek leave to be what we weave
all language into a short spell amongst the occasionally hostile, the hospitable, whilst washing minor trivialities from purple robes whilst whistling, I’m Henry the Eighth I am I am,
i miss what i miss, colours, especially
blue surreal sky blue
travels, travails, the end of time again, washes over, remembering to forget, and all the humans interposed, interpreted, let them go, pass into the vague abstract grey,
their lives each moment a precipice into which they fall feet first catching the spinning earth
“or you walking naked out of the bathroom without seeing me” Charles Bukowski
The Puzzle Box
gingatao, the podcast- Soraya December 6, 2011
- Teethmarks November 25, 2011
- the gentle art of soft landings June 29, 2010
- The Australian Poet Laureate
- another quote from Robert Adamson January 31, 2010
- Three Quotes from Robert Adamson October 22, 2009
- The copyright question (2) October 7, 2009
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