Sunday, June 24, 2018

I have been advised that the "RULES" for the Mary Gilmore were discussed at the ASAL's AGM in 2017. A little conference apparently between the board and the hierarchy of past judges. It appears that from now on the award is discretionary, but according to Consumer Rights and I have read some of the new 2011 laws to protect individuals, this may contravene consumer rights according to consumer protection (See rules link below). The general public now in Australia have rights and protections in place to halt this kind of surreptitious activity. Above you will notice a "Screen Shot" (taken 28/5/2018) of the current rules that clearly state 'a first book' - not second, not third, not anything else after chapbook publications. If the ASAL had changed the rules back in 2017, then it should have been clearly stated on their website, applied legally to the two poets short-listed in 2018 who have had previous chapbooks, and also made public in the media (eg the ABR/ASALwebsite and to publishers). They failed the duties of the award, failed to make the change of rules public and have failed the short-listed poets WHO DO HAVE A FIRST BOOK! Under the Australian National Law according to the ACCC, these sort of backroom dealings that have previously occurred in the general community are no longer lawful. The ACCC was formed to protect the rights of consumers and individuals. An award such as the Mary Gilmore Award does not escape this scrutiny: The guardians of this award have failed to notify the general Australian literary establishment, they are culpable for not establishing changes in 2018, appearing to neglect notifying these changes from their AGM. This cannot happen in 2018, this surreptitious collusion between the upper echelons, current judges, past judges and the Association for the Study of Australian Literature cannot happen in 2018!
Here's a link about CHANGE OF RULES.

Disclaimer: These are my personal opinions as I have been affected by the Mary Gilmore Award in 2010 and therefore wish to state that my post is "without prejudice" to any party.
OOTA's (Out of the Asylum) Spilt Ink Competition 2018 is open to all financial members of writing organisations affiliated with Writers United WA.


Poetry (max 30 lines) and Short Fiction (max 2000 words) - Separate judge for each category
Writers may submit up to three entries in each category

Entry Fees

Poetry - $10 for one poem; $15 for two or $20 for three
Short Fiction - $10 for one short fiction; $18 for two or $25 for three


First Prize - $200 plus Bookshop Voucher ($50)
Second Prize - $100              Third Prize - $50

Winners will be announced at the OOTA AGM in October and winning entries listed on the OOTA website.

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Emerald: Of Forest and Stone by Paula Lang
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

With echoes of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight Series and The Lord of the Rings, Paula Lang has published her first fantasy novel Emerald: Of Forest and Stone. While the Twilight Saga and The Lord of the Rings has made it to film and also to the top of the best seller list, it is interesting to note that it is younger readers that have made this possible. Why is this so? My theory as a reviewer of adult fiction is that the new and ever-evolving generations of kids have fresh eyes and minds on what they like; they like something new, something netherworld, and surreal stories they can get lost in. Take for example, the Harry Potter Series. Young readers absorbed J K Rowling's literature at a faster rate than has ever been seen before. They all waited patiently for each new book, they all took that quantum leap of faith for her characters, loved wizardry and magic not known to them before, and astounded parents, adults and reviewers alike.
While coming to grips with reviewing Paula Lang's new book, I decided to read some of the "adult" reviews of Meyer's Twilight Saga and surprisingly, though not really, they found them trite, bizarre and hated the 'glittery vampire thing.' However, these novels were a market for the younger reader, the Generation X, and still are a market for the Millennials and Post-Millennials.
Lang's fantasy novel, or should I say, her fan fiction is also meant for that readership. Younger minds can get their head around the myriad of characters all laid out neatly as Preface pages of the book. And on the back blurb we are told that the main protagonist is Layla. Layla has the ability to "shape-shift" and is the only female ever to receive this gift, a duty bestowed on her as part of the Connor pack to protect her people. Similarly, symbolic to Thetis - Greek goddess of the sea who was particularly known as a shape-shifter: when Peleus desired to marry her, she transformed herself into fire, water, a lion, and a serpent in order to escape him. Lang's inclusion of her character Layla who is struggling to find balance and happiness in her life is an interesting juxtaposition to Greek mythology since "Shape-Shifting" is the quest for permanence and stability in a world of seemingly ceaseless destruction and change.
As mentioned previously, this book while reviewed here on Goodreads, should be marketed to teenagers and young adult readers. Especially, those readers who have enjoyed Harry Potter, the Twilight Series and The Lord of the Rings. Readers of science-fiction and fantasy novels often enjoy these other-worlds that do not exist in realism.
I also believe that the market prefers one main protagonist and one main point of view, and I would also argue that this lightweight fiction makes lazy readers of us all. Let us not get into the position of criticising a work for its many characters, it's imagined, surreal worlds of vampires, wolves, wolf ancestor spirits, half-humans, and full humans. Brian Stoker brought us Dracula, Mary Shelley brought us Frankenstein, and Buffy and companions fought an increasing variety of demons, as well as ghosts, werewolves, zombies, and unscrupulous humans.
I admire an author who takes risks. Paula Lang has taken that risk with a work of dense proportions. Self-publishing is not an easy road to take, but often a necessary one for a beginner writer.
Here's a section of writing (among many others) that I found to be excellent!
Chapter 15 - No Balance.
Without stopping to see if her mother was home, Layla ran to the bathroom. Overwhelmed by her anxiety and confusion, she dry retched into the toilet. Everything she had learned and knew of her existence was unravelling.
What was it that made it so hard for her to accept the Ambroses and Natanual? Was it the fear of losing control?
She had been disarmed at Jack’s; she had felt Beatrice’s affection and the humility of Natanual. She wasn’t meant to feel anything from them or for them.
She cleaned herself up and headed to the beach to think.
Sitting looking out at the ocean, she let her tears freely run down her cheeks. She wiped her face dry with her sleeve and looked up at the sky, trying to blink the rest away.
Again, she caught the scent as she wiped her eyes and face. It was the scent of orange blossom; to her dismay, she liked it.
Layla reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her necklace. Her chest burned, overwhelmed with the disdain she felt for herself and the guilt for indulging in the intoxicating scent that permeated from it.
The necklace also had the smell of citrus, but also of other blended spices, of leather, and of him.
Layla looked more closely at how it had been mended. Natanual had replaced the leather cord. She remembered the tribal necklaces he wore when he first arrived; the cord was the same.
In an action that was totally driven like a drug addict wanting and needing more, she cupped the necklace in her hands and breathed in deeply, drinking in its divine scent.
It smelled dangerous, earthy, human, and beautiful.
Catching herself and disgusted with her actions, Layla didn’t know whether she would vomit again or faint; her head swam with guilt and confusion.
Needing to get home before Shay, Layla jumped down from the log. Reaching the road, she ran herself hard without stopping, trying to burn away her emotion.

In her bedroom, she took a small wooden jewellery box out from her bedside drawer and tipped out the contents.
Still catching her breath, she put the necklace inside instead. Snapping it shut, its smooth and flush closing mechanism locked the scent in tight.
Layla then threw the box angrily away into the back of her wardrobe and out of her thoughts.

Helen Hagemann (c) 2018

View all my reviews

Thursday, May 24, 2018

Australia and its Literary Environment.
It's interesting when you discover anomalies in this Australian literary establishment. I was once short-listed for the Mary Gilmore award, but because I had previous published chapbooks, the short-list  acknowledgement was removed from the public realm. I have discovered that the short-list for the 2018 Mary Gilmore Award contains two writers who have been previously published in chapbook form (40 poems or less), and yet still hold their shortlisting. I have written (anonymously) to the head honcho at the ASAL (Association for the Study of Australian Literature), pointing this out, however, he chooses to disagree with me, stating that if a chapbook was 40 poems or less it is not counted, so therefore their  current publications stand as the poet's first book! I am awaiting the outcome and I can tell you I am going to cause a stink and have my short-listing re-instated as my chapbook was 36 poems! The results of the 2018 will be known in July 2018.  Mary Gilmore's poem "War" seems very appropriate for me at this time. Let's see what happens!    ......comments welcome :) 

Wednesday, May 16, 2018

Great to see my publisher back on board (or is the press riding on a new wave?) and online!
Sunline Press is an independent book publisher that was established in 2000 by Roland Leach. It primarily publishes works of poetry by individual poets but has branched out with its online magazine, Cuttlefish, to include flash fiction…

Thursday, May 10, 2018

            Guitar Statue

             A dark grey, a very dark grey, quite dark it is almost black. This
             statue is a composition not for practice. Ordinarily, a guitar would
             stand in a better place, a better place where the strings are alive with
             every occasion. Solid and far from untidy, it rests on cobblestones,
             a reminder of cherished refrains, an exterior surrendering and not
             quite dreary in wind as there is so much of its shape working not to
             be ordinary, and not tardy. It’s a receptacle, a symbol, silent in its
             custom, but never silent when there’s anticipation, a lively concert
             with exceptional meaning and feeling from exuberant voices.

Monday, May 7, 2018


The reflection is opposite and this means exchange, and when a face is recognised it’s not evading artistic meaning or expression should the colour change. What is important is choice and position and what if there is shine, shine, shine! An angle of dazzle brings too much frustration. There is this exception every time there is too much light because a brightly sun is overly tiresome and how can a surface show merit and image if every time there is interruption there. The frame is important too and very, very if dimensions are three and simply not four. And a reflection will last when a surface divides; a remarkable division of beauty that is also very, very and that is a mirror.

Acknowledgement:  Jenny Zander - body artist @ Check out her work it's highly creative and inspirational!

Saturday, April 28, 2018


There is a whole collection made. Three boards and there is a filling, no delay with the right measure. There is pleasure in fired clay, artefacts of cork and country. They are little gifts of language, too, to be kept and mounted. Ladies will be sales of beautiful, beautiful! Very likely it is a passion and can speak of reckless spending, eyes on wristwatch, a parcel nicely and no ribbon. Some might be dearer but in any case there is a bargain. The best thing to do is to take it away and register its purpose with gratitude. Its place will be a revision of time.

Thursday, April 26, 2018

A Fountain

A fountain is a point of return if lost. The heart will embrace the sound of water. So pure is the flow that nearly all of it shows pearls of light. It’s remarkable when the basin is level and not an inch over, one spout covering the work of two. It’s a spring of hope if hot or cold but does not mean soap. Unprecedented change and the whole thing blackens, is broken, so the mending shows the culture is Portuguese. The blue and gold tiles can cause the whole thing to be a church.


Archways are charming places when it’s raining. Umbrellas are out and this
shows direction. Looking into its space it’s hanging, a shape heavy above
with melody. It leads to sweet singing, a stage of learning and it’s not
disappointing when a ticket is entry. Returning, there is semblance where
shadows are darker and there is no dust and no dirt within. Stones are
arranged in splendour, stone on stone and cheaper and not shown by marks
or by wetting. A statue is looking into this place and seeing a statue means relief,
it does, it certainly does not cause frustration. Through the archway there are
courtyards, a line of life and stairways to an amusing side, a little dog holding
a cup to a tuneful accordion. An archway will take you to all this and coffee,
and short orders, waiters and cooks.

It's amazing the amount of writing you get done while away from home. I have really enjoyed Portugal (although only partially seen), but as a writer-in-residence I have been able to lock myself away from life's distractions, haven't had to do housework and therefore there is this intense concentration on your work. I have finished editing my asbestos novel, have ideas for a fourth and have enjoyed writing several prose poems inspired by the environment, landscape and objects around me in Lobao da Beira, in Tondela, and in Coimbra - a Medieval town.

The prose poetry (I feel) is taking a new course. In the past I have written about my life, etc. and I felt it was time to move on to something more challenging -  prose poetry that doesn't get bogged down with figurative language ie. metaphor and simile, but works to subvert the image. I'm inspired by Gertrude Stein whose poem Tender Buttons describes things and objects in an artistic way, a little sklent, often leaning to the obscure, yet her intention was to challenge the reader to make meaning for themselves. I like this idea, and I am currently working on a collection titled "Random" - using objects and things sometimes overlooked, sometimes not interesting enough to be worthy, yet these inanimate objects can create "art" and imbibe different ways of using language. 

The images I'm currently using from Portugal have been a different and interesting landscape from my own country, Australia. I guess mainly it's because one is out in the world and this brings new experiences and challenges. I am really enjoying creating this new form.

Wednesday, April 18, 2018

The Sisters' SongThe Sisters' Song by Louise Allan
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

A Book on a Grand Scale
Every now and again a book comes along that is exceptional, a story that allows you to sink beyond the page into the lives of the characters, their heartaches, failures, warmth and sincerity. Such is The Sisters' Song a debut novel by Louise Allan.

    It's a family saga, set in Tasmania in the 1930s-90s and looks at the lives of two women, sisters Ida and Nora. These two women's lives are created as binary opposites. Ida is the traditional woman married to Len and wants children, while Nora longs for fulfillment in a singing career. However, their ambitions are thwarted by circumstance and both sisters' dreams and aspirations remain unfulfilled throughout the novel. Ida has three miscarriages never bearing a child full-term, while Nora's talent (in its infancy) is waylaid by falling pregnant to a dashing Italian "Lothario" named Marco. Being subjected to the wiles of the Italian who is married, it is career over for Nora! She returns to Tinsdale, to marry Alf (pre-stepfatherhood to Marco's son Ted), and to a lonely farm life in isolated Tasmania. With all her hopes and dreams dashed Nora remains embittered throughout most of her life. We can put this down to the temporal climate of the mid-twentieth century when a woman was objectified - her only role and status - of being there for pleasure, marriage and or pro-creation.

    To my mind, The Sisters' Song is an important feminist text for the 21st Century, a template for the GenYs and GenZs to imbibe an era when women were mainly stereotyped in roles of housewife and mothers (although there were exceptions to the rule). Granted, this novel does not set out to make a cultural statement, yet at the same time the song rings loud and clear. As contemporary readers we are taken back to a time of pre-women's liberation, to Nora, a woman who wasn't fully encouraged, who wasn't given hope or familial support to be different, to be independent or career minded. And we are taken back to the familiar tune of the many, like Nora's family, who failed her talent. I shudder to think of where we would be today if we didn't have the current advantages of career, equal workplace and educational opportunities.
      As a reviewer, I don't need to tell you the whole story that is for you to read. I also prefer not to repeat the accolades of another four to five prominent reviewers, including Nicole Melanson (NSW) and Monique Mulligan (WA) as I see this exceptional novel as a gift to women. It is a reminder of the woman's struggle, the dark ages of electric shock therapy, of mental illness, of unrecognized depression, and of an unflinching bond between sisters, created by Ida.
    There are many other layers in this novel: themes of love, courage and forgiveness, evocative figurative language, well-drawn protagonists and minor characters, a strong emotional engagement for the reader, and last but not least, a music and singing motif that is so heartfelt you can almost hear it.

    Louise Allan grew up in Tasmania, a relatively underpopulated, rugged and cold island off the south-east coast of mainland Australia. She studied Medicine at the University of Tasmania and went on to become a GP, before moving across the country to Perth. She worked in the field of breast cancer until she ceased practising medicine in 2010 and took up writing. Allan’s novel came from a short story she wrote in 2010, which she knew had a much longer story attached. In 2012, she picked it up again, and it took six years and countless drafts until in 2014, her novel was awarded a Varuna Residential Fellowship. In the same year, the manuscript was shortlisted for the City of Fremantle—TAG Hungerford Award.

   Alongside her characters, this major effort by Allan has been justified; a woman finding her vocation as a writer, securing an agent and publisher Allen & Unwin (2018).

Disclaimer: My thanks to Allen & Unwin for giving me the opportunity to read a great book and likewise to review.

Helen Hagemann (c) 2018

View all my reviews

Thursday, March 1, 2018

SALE @ 50% OFF

Of Arc & Shadow $5 + $1 postage = $6.00
Evangelyne & Other Poems $2.50 + 0.70 cents postage = $3.20
Contact Helen @  

All Prices include above postage. Within Australia only
Books Shipped in 2 Business Days.
REGULAR PRICES: Below if you use your Paypal account Email Within 24 Hours.

Poem from of Arc & Shadow 

Admirabilis - (collation of home)
                          The purpose of the poem, fills the room
                                                    Wallace Stevens  

We enter small rooms, cherished from the past,
each one telling a tale of my parents’ life.
Now they are gone, we need to unravel
what is left  ─people in a marriage ─
the things they kept. We threw Dad in the lake because
he loved to fish. Mother's in a narrow corridor
of sorts, & cannot escape ─
the world going on without her.
We still see the light in her eyes
after the stroke.
Houses are history with clutter & song,
the old place creaking as we walk. You can almost
hear the tank overflowing, gutters pinging,
high-heels on concrete, neighbours sneaking round
the corner in a flap from the rain. Betty who loved Jesus.
Rene, an adorable hypochondriac, who got sicker
when the new doctor came.

It’s delicate to pack fifty years of chattels: flowerpots,
fernery orchids, a shed full of tackle & tools.
If you touch something, you’re spirited back
to bikes on the lawn, cartwheels, winging the clothes line,
the family snake killer whacking the long grass
for the dog’s last chewed ball.
You’re a teenager, slipping into your mother’s room,
the dressing table's batwings coupling tiny bottles of scent,
glass top in a dust of fingerprints, old powder cracked
in her cut-glass like dried veins in a river bed.
Her silver brush & comb, an ensemble
she kept for forty years, clips & pins in a silver dish,
three drawers as wayward as your first perm.

The kitchen, still in weathered wood, throws out
more wonder. The retro cup & saucers in ear-shaped
handles. There’s a Willow set, tea-pots in orange, yellow, green,
matching bowls & jugs. Gifts on their wedding anniversary,
trophies from a pennant’s match, the sideboard hiding more
than its sixties storage. Ramekins, a cutlery set, tea-towels never used,
tablecloths & boxed cotton sheets. Your mother could combust
the golf club with the winning ticket in her hand.
You walk the halls, the verandah, open each wardrobe.
Coats still hang behind the door. You press your nose into your mother’s
cream cashmere, scent of rose. This is a longing for touch,
to hold the smell of your father’s pressed shirts, singlets,
ties, mother’s scarves & gloves, those young lives you never knew.
If you could tell them now about this poem, read their song,
they still wouldn’t understand. They’d avert their eyes
from your arrangement of words, give a little wave
as if you were touched by the sun.


Wednesday, February 14, 2018

I wrote this poem when I was in love! As Emmy-lou Harris sings "Love is a miracle." I found it once and only once in my life, so I feel blessed for having known him, for having twelve marvelous, funny, exciting, surprising, intellectually satisfying, and happy years together!

Monday, January 29, 2018

I usually support a same state writer and I also like to read prize winners. In relation to this book Extinctions, a Dorothy Hewett ms award winner and the 2017 Miles Franklin award, I am going to stick my neck out, and say sorry folks! but I thought this book was disappointing :(
It was mainly driven by backstory, ie all the relies of Frederick Lothian and Jan's - Fred's neighbour thrown into the mix. The surface level (ie. the literal level) was more interesting, two people meeting in a retirement village, both having adoptees in the family. Or as they say in academia the inclusion of "the other" or those on the margins. I wanted more of this interesting story than finding out about the characters' past lives. I also wanted a better ending of Callum, Morrison, Jan and Fred finally moving into Fred's family home and how they coped nicely (or not) with each other. I felt bogged down reading all the backstory and, at times, skim read to get to the surface action/problem/quest/whatever! And the title? Extinctions? It would have been better if rather than an engineer/lecturer Fred, per se, might have been an archaeologist/scientist/paleontologist, and even though retired still interested in anything worth saving, or on the danger list. Okay, so Caroline was into studying the end of certain species, but did that have any effect on the two main characters who were driven towards each other? I don't think so. All I can say is the "pictures" helped me whiz through the pages much quicker. On a positive note, the writing was a many, like, like, like. Are they supposed to make a good book? Obviously the judges of the Dorothy Hewett and the Miles Franklin thought so.

Poetry and Fiction Reviewer
* wait for e-book or library to save money!

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Sunday, January 21, 2018

This is an Instagram poem @
I started using Paintshop Pro, but that proved difficult and so lucky for me a fellow online posted an article how to upload Microsoft Image Composer. I did have the discs ie. for Front Page and also Image Composer, but these days working on a laptop I do not have one that has a CD/DVD drive. Often there are extremely good programs on older versions of Windows and for some unknown reason Microsoft chooses not to include them. They get lost in the ether. You can imagine how thrilled I was to find Image Composer again.  It is so easy to use!
Image overlaid with text is very challenging. You can't have the background image too dark, and of course, the poem needs to convey the picture, but doesn't have to make sense. The poem also needs to be a stand-alone piece of art, and I'm less inclined nowadays to spell things out. It's up to the reader to interpret the text!
I am now following 160 poets on Instagram, some of the poetry is very basic, some of the artwork + poetry combined is excellent. Many of the writers post every day, and I don't think they give their work enough time to mature. That said, it is very pleasing to the eye to see how young people are using Instagram as a vehicle for their art and also it is a medium that is bringing about change.
Being an artist is not only a challenge to be published but also working with new platforms, such as social media is good for your creative bent and also great for your health and well-being. When I comment on an Instagram poem/artwork the writer is usually very grateful for the feedback. I am tempted to edit some poems, and say, I think the poem ended at the fourth last line, but I hold back as this is not what it is all about. It's about Spilled Ink aka Spilled Poetry, Spilled Words and Images that entertain.

1st Beach image to work with

2nd image poem - not positioned right!
Helen Hagemann (c) Copyright
Image: My own photography - Bunbury ocean beach, Western Australia

Sunday, December 31, 2017

 Awarded an ARTErra residency in Lobão da Beira, Portugal - April 2018

ARTErra is a structured artistic place in Lobão da Beira, a village in PORTUGAL, near Tondela, district of Viseu.

ARTErra is a private structure of incentive for artistic creation in a quiet and green small village, which aims to facilitate en­counters between different artists and aesthetic disciplines. ARTERRA is strongly committed to offering the residents a cheerful and productive stay. Because of that, part­nerships have been established with the Municipality of Tondela and Lobão da Beira for reception and possible presentations of performative works,  exhibitions, workshops, lectures, etc.

They offer two distinct spaces: the house where the residents can do the meals, rest, meet other artists. In the other space, the “creation yard”, with different work places, ateliers, sound and image studio (also with recording cabin), blackbox, documentation centre and peaceful gardens.

My Project - the same as for the South of France - AIR LE PARC

The project is titled “Random” a collection of prose poetry that allows me freedom to choose subjects, objects or unknowns, wherever the muse strikes, thus giving the work a sense of freedom and liberation from theme.  Many poems are inspired by nature, the landscape or simple objects that are often overlooked. As part of this project, I place my work as a cross-cultural platform on Instagram with links to Facebook, Twitter and my Blog. This is a way of connecting with other poets on a world scale, increasing an online readership and connection. Ekphrastic poems also feature in the collection. A poem titled “Vase” highlights Portuguese pottery. And poems like “Rugs” and “Canvas” are inspired by paintings by disabled artists. Resident artists would also be inspirational for the work. Therefore, the time and space occupied at ARTErra looking at Portugal’s landscape, the environment (nature), its architecture, and other artforms would not only be inspirational; but also invaluable.

I applied with the following elements:
= Project(as above)
– Curriculum Vitae; and Bio
– Portfolio, videos, photos, = 10 prose poems + Instagram screen shots.
– The date of the residency has been accepted as from 9th April to 30th April (with an extra day for travelling).

 I upload my photography (or image) plus the prose poem to Instagram where I have 134 followers.

Thursday, November 23, 2017

I have been awarded a writing residency at AIR LE PARC! Very excited that I can spend time in the countryside of Southern France with the idea of looking at a historic landscape, the wine region, the environment especially its unique architecture.

My Project 
The project is titled “Random” (prose poetry) a work that allows me freedom to choose subjects, objects or unknowns, wherever the muse strikes, thus giving the work a sense of freedom and liberation from theme.  Many poems are inspired by nature, the landscape or simple objects that are often overlooked. Ekphrastic poems also feature in the collection. The poems “Rugs" and "Canvas” are inspired by paintings by disabled artists. “Sklent” looks at old, ramshackle houses and is inspired by a painting titled Leaning Carriage House by Laurel Daniel.

Focus, Process, and Illustration
Currently, I have 40 poems (re-worked at times) and my goal would be to increase the collection to 70 poems. As part of this project, I place my work as a cross-cultural platform on Instagram (with links to Facebook and Blog). This is a way of connecting with other poets on a world scale, increasing an online readership and liaison. Currently I'm working towards these aims, and I am already following a great community of poets/ writers/ artists worldwide @ evangelynepoetry 

Monday, November 20, 2017

A Bottlebrush is not a Brush

More beautiful than a brush that goes inside a bottle. A bottlebrush is a bush, a single hot colour but not a scorpion. Its spikes are fronds, little sticky stamens of pollen, not ordinary but splendidly made. Spring bounces them into houses to spread inside walls - unordered among an order of photographs on coffee tables; windows reflect the wild spread of green leaves, red flowers, it could be Christmas.

Monday, November 13, 2017


The faith was gone, but not the spirit. One Sunday I felt suffocated, among the darkened room of my home, the summer’s heat outside. I didn’t want to be with my friend anymore, so I moved my car, parked it under heavy trees along a lonely road. I walked back with the keys, a little deceptive. Everything changed when I opened my front door. The cautious atmosphere that I felt before, among thick draped curtains, crowded with dust, became a backdrop of forest and river. A gate opened without a lock, and across a field of sunflowers, foraging parrots were pretty in pink feather. A children’s playground in twisted Escher turns bespoke large green ladders to long blue holes. I was able to walk along feeling the tingle of new sounds, the hum of a busy road, and I knew when I drove home that Sunday night, I would sleep well and dream.


Published by Australian Poetry Centre, Melbourne

of Arc & Shadow

of Arc & Shadow
Published by Sunline Press, WA

The Joyous Lake

Par écrit

Blog Archive

Creative Writing Lessons

Check out Creative Writing Lessons

Powered by Blogger.

Search This Blog

Flickr Images


Popular Posts