Reading poetry at Federation Square

Reading poetry at Federation Square, a photo by xcentrictricia on Flickr.

Poem done as group exercise now published

I thought you might like to know that one of the poems I wrote and presented to the group as part of our group exercises last year has now been published online. The poem is entitled 'Bedlam Or Parnassus', and an earlier version of it was posted on this blog. It can now be seen, along with some others, in The Argotist Online, at this web address: http://www.argotistonline.co.uk/Klooger%20poems.htm. The editor's essay on his preferred poetics is interesting too.

Jeff

That's me in Darwin

So you see I had a great tan and a great plate of food too. Now I can try and send a photo to Karen in USA on the blog.
Any new poems before next meeting do please put them on the blog.
June and Geoff's poems were a lovely addition and it makes a diary of somehow how we are going in the poetic journey.

testing testing if I can do new tricks

The blog is being to great use

I love both of the poems. What is special is the experience that you both had prompted such strong emotional responses, of a similiar kind as well. The picture adds the dimension of visual which makes the poems more potent.
Do bring them along to the next meeting so others who are not on the blog can read them. Or if you are inclined email them before the meeting.
I am encouraged to put some poetry again on the blog.
Maybe today I should write about the wind..ugh
Cecilia

These two poems were inspired by a stained glass Nativity Scene in St Matthews Church, New Norfolk, Tasmania - the window is a touching memorial to Nancy Hope Shoebridge, who died at sea in 1887 aged nine, and who appears in the Nativity Scene.

NEW NORFOLK
by June

Softly breezes stir the mist,
lifting it above surrounding mountains.
We, the travellers, sublime in its tranquillity
soak up the peace and history.

As the last rays of light filter in
a darkened church is lightened.
We seek the face
of the little girl buried at sea
those many years ago
now immortalised
in the pure stained glass
of the east window of St Matthews Church.

Softly casting golden colour to the altar,
a haunting face becalmed,
eyes that follow as you move in that sanctuary.
Captured by an artist's brush,
to heal the void you left,
encompassed now in reverence around the manger.

No more the laughter and joy of long ago.
Instead the click – click of camera,
imposing on your solitary refuge.

Often must that little face have been revered
and tears shed -
a gentle reminder.
Now a solace of comfort
for all who grieve.

For us
a treasured memory
to take and hold.

Rest little one.




MEMORIAL
by Geoffrey

A little girl lost.

A grief dissolved,
long ago.

For us you are only a name
on a gleaming window, of a darkened church,
in winter twilight.

And yet

your heart - shaped face,
framed in waves of gold brown hair.
catches at us.


Your eyes follow us,
looking beyond the gesticulating figures,
posed over the pale, haloed baby.

You say:

Love is timeless,
stronger than grief
or myth frozen in glass.

Love placed me here - for you.

Remember me

Poem by William Carlos Williams

I haven't been keeping up with my regular poetry reading (apologies - I forgot! Too busy!). But here is one of my favourite poems, by William Carlos Williams

Philomena Andronico

With the boys busy
at ball
in the worn lot
nearby

She stands in
the short street
reflectively bouncing
the red ball

Slowly
practicied
a little awkwardly
throwing one leg over

(Not as she had done
formerly
screaming and
missing

But slowly
surely) then
pausing throws
the ball

With a full slow
very slow
and easy motion
following through

With a slow
half turn -
as the ball flies
and rolls gently

At the child's feet
waiting -
and yet he misses
it and turns

And runs while she
slowly
regains her former
pose

Then shoves her fingers
up through
her loose short hair
quickly

Draws one stocking
tight and
waiting
tilts

Her hips and
in the warm still
air lets
her arm
Fall

Fall
loosely
(waiting)
at her sides




This is such a simple scene, described simply (and very skillfully), but a whole life is portrayed in it. It is very sensual, too. I wish I knew that woman. She is a mother, but still a woman, and an active being, strong and supple, careless of her appearance, but attractive because of that.