Poems
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Two Songs
By Martin Harrison1. “If I could turn back time I would”
Is there anyone who won’t judge me
for what I’ve done? It’s so like God
to do this to me. I’m turned into -
Nymphs
By C. M. Chadwickfrozen in row
but then crackle skin
peel of giggles
and slip off slip slop slip shod -
ghosting the ghetto
By Omar Sakrfor Steven
In their third floor brick flat, the one tucked into the asphalt folds of Warwick Farm,
past El Toro motel, down where the winding road straightens out opposite takeaway
tucker, my grandparents were rebuilding Lebanon, and no one seemed to mind. Every -
The disappearing
By Steve Dibirdi Hodder Watt BunbajeeDreams it seems can be deprived and refuse 2 arrive like the glimpse of past lives,
Like girlfriends and wives, not gone but forgotten,
Testaments of the rotten loves linger
like the twitch of an amputated finger. -
Now
By Stuart CookeThis is the place: a park, a cleared space, cooling swathes of light.
In the distance: an airport’s absurdity,
arguments of steel, flocks of fruit bats swarming
in panic across an afternoon sky. -
International Nippon Australia New Zealand Club
By Kent MacCarter33°51′58.1502″S 151°12′47.739″E
Do you know, master Trim, that you have behaved very ill?– Matthew Flinders
Your ferrous gaze fixes between 229-231 -
Two Souls Had Their Rendezvous
By Maryam AzamThe souls had their rendezvous: those who liked each other then, love here; those who remained strangers then, do not join here – Prophet Muhammad S.
The first time we met was not the first I swear
by the tumbling of light and dark in your eyes -
A Bright Winter's Morning
By Kate Middletonafter Walter Withers
Beyond white houses
The haze and frost of daybreak on the flats
In these morning hours a filtered light -
Nothing remains
By Virginia JealousBehind the sand bar,
on the inlet’s calm, an elegance of banded stilts;
sanderlings teeter the edge, gleaning
between ziplines of intertidal crabs -
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Cranbrook, Mid-June (after Martin Harrison)
By Tom LeeThe inarguable harbour proves the point
hit by the low winter sun, we squint
fishing for cutlery, facing the mirrors
in a high-ceilinged room. -
The Cyclops
By Joel EphraimsThe cyclops
Was a university
Made of two children
Sitting with their -
The Great Displaced
By Omar MusaFor Jess
The boy lights a candle
and faces a perilous horizon.
He pulls on his socks, his boots -
Croc Dreaming
By Julie MacleanAll night freight trains roar in,
whirl about my galleon, sails billowing,
spiky shadows of palm fronds casting
all about like Bunyip’s claws -
The Floating Palais
By Mike LaddMoored to catch a summer breeze,
the vision floats.
Its cupolas and promenade,
hall of Arabian gold, blue and terracotta, -
The Gilligan’s Nights
By Jill JonesWhen I spent too much yellow time
climbing stairs – when hazy gaps would
appear in some private happiness.
When tables glared – when we -
Dripping with Decadence (Big House, big white lies)
By Lorna MunroBig house, big lies, gubbna, white gubbament
Contorted melaleuca
Conveniently furnished with secondhand decadence
Will society ever speak of the secret deals that were made? -
Featherlight
By Eunice Andradai.
It must have been after the sermon wrung us dry—
his lungs an emptying congregation
as I mouthed sins into my fingers then -
Living on Chocolate and Beer
By Stuart FlavellChekhov when he travelled
visited cemeteries, tent circuses
and comical plays.
You when you travel survive -
Acknowledgements
By Lesley WalterMuch has been said about the invisibility of women
past a certain stage in life. And it’s not only men
who look through them. It’s obvious how children, too,
favour the pretty young teacher. But occasionally,
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