Poems
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Curvature
By Kate LockeNormal.
Nothing happening.
No curvature of sorts.
No curl of the lip or tongue. -
Border Poems
By Stuart Cooke1.
People at the Bus Shelter; Raining
Trapped under the bus shelter, -
Sulphur-crested cockatoos
By Rachel RobbinsMy mother's people
raucous and wild,
with aerobatic grace,
play in the wind. -
Three Photographs Of This Boy
By Andy DrewittPhoto One
This boy is small enough
to photograph and -
I remember us
By Juliet A. PaineThis afternoon
the sunlight is hard and coarse
the clouds try desperately
to blot it out. -
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. -
Gravity
By Brendan Mackiemiddle of my stomach, still asleep, caffeine not working, no breakfast sorta feeling,
staring down a well, sc-sc-screaming down hearing only echoes bounce up while
wishes, coins and tears dr-drip down without a sound.
It's like: sudden calculation of all the variables and the constants in your -
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. -
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 -
Night
By Lainie Cameronno-one seems to embrace you
your slick reserve and enigmatic shadows
blanketing love and lovers words, their
lips and hands and flower-stemmed fingers -
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5:03 (All Stops To Dapto)
By David StavangerThe girl waves at the walking
beer can
leering from the stained window of a nowhere train.
Her skirt, hemmed high above the clouds the -
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 -
Mantle
By Bradley JelfsRemember when the two
white candles burnt out
and the red candle on
the right frames our bodies -
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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. -
En Saga För örat
By Emilia JohanssonJag ligger och lyssnar på ett regn som inte slutar
Vad gråter himlen för idag?
Det domnar i mina öron
Det är inga droppar, allt blir bara en massa -
Half
By Clint GreaganIt's not enough to wash once after
a night of tedium, the good time
to make a break is gone, the chilled -
Mothers
By Juliana Doupedo to fill in the quiet,
where do I come from?
Mothers, like me,
in gestures and heart shaped faces and thinking -
Rope Burn
By Ryan ScottAgain Captain Again!
Again Captain Again!
Sea foam, screaming, salt bubbles, salt washed