Poems
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Nana died while I was tripping
By Kelly-Lee HickeyShe died alone in a wheelchair.
She was smoking herself to death.
In a world of few choices
She took one. -
walking barefoot through the snow
By Kathleen Bleakley1. on the highest peak we found stillness.
it was later, when we were descending, the wind shifted, cloud came over you.
the sunny face didn't last as long as it took us to climb back down.
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Snow
By Emilia JohanssonIt is painting the landscape white
and you are painting me in bright
snow, just fallen, is perfect like cream on a cake
your colours are bright, shining all in blue like a clear lake -
The Poets Of The 18th Century
By Brian HawkinsI had nothing to do so I went down
and asked the cows if they knew
of any cows who could talk, and they said
there was this cow near Gulargambone -
Three Photographs Of This Boy
By Andy DrewittPhoto One
This boy is small enough
to photograph and -
Waterspray
By Kathleen BleakleyI remember us
cycling home from college
summertime, through sprinklers
& back uphill -
As the Prince Addresses Himself Having Realised that He Was Never Royalty
By Ryan ScottShe once said, worn out, drawn out,
sketched in pearl light, that there
can't be one without the other, they are
one in the same, -
The problem with transportation
By Kelly-Lee HickeyI always kiss you at the train station
Where our lives intersect.
You always go the other way. -
Mantle
By Bradley JelfsRemember when the two
white candles burnt out
and the red candle on
the right frames our bodies -
A Philosophic Analysis of the Modern Homosapien in it's Less-Than-Natural Environment
By Gerard ElsonWandering blindly, searching for that which cannot be found. The futile quest for divinity long
abandoned, replaced by instantaneous stimulations. A shrink-wrapped soul and
fast food emotions, saturated in self, love now a thing of the movies. Sexual
convenience and financial surplus- revenge, how sweet it is. Cardboard mothers -
The Night of the Bottle-tops
By Clint GreaganShe was sitting
there,
a little after midnight,
testing me -
I remember us
By Juliet A. PaineThis afternoon
the sunlight is hard and coarse
the clouds try desperately
to blot it out. -
Ghost boy
By David StavangerI knew this boy
a boy who never knew me
reflected in the cracked stained glass
of a city train full of morning corpses -
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My Generation
By Brendan MackieI see my generation like a flock of flustered mutton,
following questionless the parade of white wool and black hoofs in front of
them, the crowd behind,
taking step step step each hoof falling on well walked earth. -
Why Painting is Like Geometry
By Heather Taylor JohnsonAt university I learned about mathematics-in-music.
Between binge drinking and finding my soul
I discovered the inevitable:
inspiration doesn't become creation without fine tuning. -
Fishing for Sleep
By Juliet A. PaineSleep eddies in this weather,
a difficult fish to catch.
A shoal of silver dreams swim past
but don't catch on anxious hooks. -
Old Poet to Young Poet
By David Stavangeryou are immature and I am highly evolved
you should read more Judith Wright and stop writing about yourself
"I" and "we" should not be used as poems are illuminations not spotlights
young poet smokes for photos / old poet smokes -
The Me War
By Emilia JohanssonI want to be a soldier in my own struggling war
I wish to defeat the strong navy which is stationed in my heart
Every heartbeat sends out an army
Army "I don't know" and Army "fear and sorrow"
