Sydney Poetry

A social site for poets in Sydney.

May 2012 Blog Posts (13)

There once was a Limerick maker named Lear ...

This year marks the bicentenary of Edward Lear’s birth in 1812 (he died in 1888). He is most famous for his comic verse for children of which many were limericks. However, Lear never called his verse limericks as the word was first used after his death. No one is quite sure where it comes from.

Limericks are…

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Added by Tim Entwisle on May 28, 2012 at 17:00 — 3 Comments

Homewords for Malouf

The quiet orthodoxy of more

than just fitting in,

snug your cry, never to conquer your poverty

of dance

The quiet orthodoxy of distance

unpiercing and asymptotic

here, take this mug - it belongs to your

absent hand that had thieved it prior

and placed it there, right there, perfectly there

So we would not…

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Added by AutoPirate on May 27, 2012 at 14:48 — No Comments

Bush Birds.

Maggie comes to Town.

He had flown across the mountain, because the water’s runnin’ low,

parched lands were increasing day by day.

He travelled to the city where the rivers were in flow,

found them pleasant and decided he might stay.

It was the Georges, where he landed, to have a look around,

found a lake with tall timber at its edge.

Sighing She-oaks spindled branches waving gently in the…

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Added by Jim Spain on May 26, 2012 at 16:09 — No Comments

Requiem . . . For a Summer's Day

Relentless sun beats down

on a side street off

Broadway,

highlighting the silent

clinging duo as they

sit on a bench.

Both dedicated followers

of Gothic fashion,

resplendent in black,

together in body only,

holding on in hopeless

anticipation.

He is waiting for an answer . . .

she is waiting for something

else . . .something sad . . .

and inevitable.

Her face gives it all…

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Added by william james falls on May 22, 2012 at 23:11 — No Comments

Zine Fair this Sunday

Come along to the Museum of Contemporary Art this Sunday 20 May from 11-4.30 to check the Zine Fair. Chris Mansell's PressPress and Richard Tipping's Artpoem are sharing a table. The Zine Fair is a part of Writers Week.

Added by Richard Kelly Tipping on May 18, 2012 at 22:34 — No Comments

This Morning ( Written in a fit of optimism late at night)

Shining brightly through a window

comes the morning . . . comes the day,

night's dead hours have surrendered,

done and dusted . . . passed away.

Another chance to shed some light

on life . . . and love . . .

to have sunlight in your eyes,

and know that life's worth living,

for love to be still lingering

just an outstretched hand away.

Morning opens yet another door,

push through . . . leap before you…

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Added by william james falls on May 16, 2012 at 23:39 — No Comments

inglorious one

i love this poem, yet i find the ending to be missing something i cannot seem to change it because is there for me. It probably needs a word change in a couple of places, but sometimes the roughness of a piece adds life to it

He died in the fall they say,

I wasn’t there to relive it,

He had died in my heart long ago,

They almost knew it

I didn’t expel my thoughts soon after

Just as he could not on his last breath,

One could…

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Added by siamanto on May 16, 2012 at 0:21 — 1 Comment

Timepiece

Going nowhere fast - and the drunkard's okay with that

walking by gardens and globes

sundials and a love seat

and the whole place has the scent of

normality, neither sweet nor stale,

the brewing happy gales destroy tree

branches

randomly. It makes little difference to them

the patterns are either tyranny,

free or the obsession between these three…