Poems
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Nginha-gulia nyiang – These words
By Jeanine Leane~ Wiradjuri interpretations provided by Aunty Elaine Lomas
These words cry out and I hear them—learn to mould
and shape them like clay. -
Not the Postage Stamp of the Christmas Island Pipistrelle!
By John KinsellaTo drag you back into viability
mainland scientists descended
to haul you into a breeding colony.
But vanishing was fast, and the last -
Occupation
By Lisa GortonListen. We can talk here,
this republic in your empire of intention.
Know when you step out of this door again
corridors will take you -
Phalanx (Woman's Work)
By Daniel BrowningThey talk of blak matriarchy
I feel it every day
The only blak matriarchs I know
Would refuse that title -
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Reading Between My Lines
By Dorothy PorterPlease, darling, please
read between my lines
I am a fabulous script -
Context in a Broken Duplex
By Omar Sakr“Tensions are escalating”. “Mow the grass down.”
Stretch past pain to find poetry, the way home.
Pen the past to find home. Write even the rain. -
The Portable Home
By Saba VasefiOnce, I went with the wolf to the desert
to take back honey from the bear
but in town my two eyes counted
only for one. At school -
An Address To The Shadow That Follows Me
By Jill JonesI’m still your goddess of crumbs and scraps, chewing on suburban air
Let me tell you, it takes some guts to do that
amongst these pokerfaced love shacks and villa clones
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Ghazal for Staying Safe
By Munira Tabassum Ahmedwhich is to say we prosper until we are not safe,
all of this, worth it even when we are not safe.
I ask where you are going, what roads bend aside -
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Loss
By Bruce PascoeIf your chest quavers and you are moved to touch
Which finger would you choose?
Well, take that finger,
The one you would use to smooth -
I Grew Up A Shadow Girl, With A Man Outlined Inside Me
By Madison Godfrey(Content warning: references self-harm)
When I was fifteen in a toilet cubicle next to Talia,
I exclaimed IT’S HERE with my school skirt skimming -
River
By Hope One- Matehaere Hope Haami
I am the river, the river is me,
Ko au te awa, ko te awa ko au -
Olympic Hour
By Bronte CampbellThe lotus flower
Lurks in murk and mud and dark
Biding time, keeping count
‘Til it bursts forth in light and bright and colour -
Cradle of Life
By Archie RoachI go down to the ocean
Here on the sand
Ah my heart is broken
As here I stand -
Portrait of a Genderkweer on Fire
By Ellen van NeervenAfter Céline Sciamma
Addicted to the sunset after burning
I gather with my cousins and lover and -
There’s So Much I Could Write Poetry About
By Yassmin Abdel-MagiedI could wax lyrical
about
a city that springs back to life
after a winter of confinement -
This difference exists
By Candy Royalle1.
all that makes us
sink beneath the
weight of simply -
Listen to Your Patients
By Anna Jacobson20mg
The on-call psychiatrist says it’s not the meds
telling me I should walk the tracks at night. Should I hide the bottle
of floor cleaner? The on-call psychiatrist doesn’t listen.