2009 WA SPRING POETRY FESTIVAL LAUNCH 28th August

Launch Event at the WA SPRING POETRY FESTIVAL 2009: Friday, 28th August

Soon-to-be, and recently published poets, including Graham Nunn (QLD), Scott-Patrick Mitchell, Gary Di Piazzi, Vivienne Glance & Helen Hagemann will read from their new collections at the launch. Special mentions by invited speakers, including Roland Leach will introduce each poet and talk about their latest successes & how WA poets are reaching further than their own shores for publication.

Distinguished guests include Professor Philip Mead - Chair of Australian Literature at UWA who will launch the festival, as well as other well-known poets Annamaria Weldon, Deanne Leber, & Kevin Gillam.

Venue: State Library of WA

Day/Time: Friday, 28th August: 4.50pm - 7.00pm

Grand Master: Peter Jeffery

WA Poets Inc. President

Read More

Poem for the Day - Street Puppet

Street Puppet

In the middle of Swanston Street
in wires of rain, cross-walk lights,
a puppet skips over puddles.
In a cache of strings, a jiggled turn, a rise of torso.
The wooden man is small, barefoot, slightly
hidden under quivering shadows. The puppeteer
assures him there is no danger, as he guides
his puppet through the sidewalk crush
lifting his blue tattoos to the sky.

On the pavement, two living beings
tap out the rhythm of the dance;
the puppet in ragged pants, too short for winter,
the man alone, working the soles of his feet.
The streets are filled with emotion, shoppers
grazing the silent puppet,
as if he is one more obstacle to pass.
There is no enthusiasm for tiny legs
barely touching the ground.
No applause for the man who brings the circus
right up to the people.

Why, in the middle of a crowd,
doesn’t he lift weights?
Why doesn’t he rotate the sky
with Juggling Clubs or Knives?
Why doesn’t he pass a hat
when no one gives anything?

Read More

Poem for the Day - The Drone of a Single Bee

The Drone of a Single Bee

A single bee collects all morning,
a sense for the endless storing of honey.
She knows the way in, the way out.
Her drone busier, softer
than the swarm of home.
Her legs brush against stamens,
forsythia crammed with sweetness.
Her saddle-bags are strapped
and yellow against the light.
She knows she cannot stay, already there
too long; the hive a world humming away.
She knows this winter there's an
absence of rain, fewer blossoms.
The honeycomb full of consequence & distance,
a queen's desire, eggs ready to hatch.
The cold wind might come
whisk her away, white clover
and pollen drying her tired, aching legs
curled against their hunger.

Read More