Tuesday poem ‘In a London Drawingroom’ by George Eliot
June 18, 2013
In a London Drawingroom
The sky is cloudy, yellowed by the smoke.
For view there are the houses opposite
Cutting the sky with one long line of wall
Like solid fog: far as the eye can stretch
Monotony of surface & of form
Without a break to hang a guess upon.
No bird can make a shadow as it flies,
For all is shadow, as in ways o’erhung
By thickest canvass, where the golden rays
Are clothed in hemp. No figure lingering
Pauses to feed the hunger of the eye
Or rest a little on the lap of life.
All hurry on & look upon the ground,
Or glance unmarking at the passers by
The wheels are hurrying too, cabs, carriages
All closed, in multiplied identity.
The world seems one huge prison-house & court
Where men are punished at the slightest cost,
With lowest rate of colour, warmth & joy.
George Eliot
Such a modernist sounding work; even a tad of the other Eliot (T.S.) about it, but this was written in the 1870s. It was not published during Eliot’s lifetime.
For further poetry, please press this feather, and you may find more Victorian poetry. Or you may not. I’m not promising, you know.
Don’t forget, if you’re in Canberra, to come to the reading at Smiths, Alinga Street, Thursday 20th at 6pm, with Nigel Featherstone, JC Inman and myself. Unfortunately George Eliot can’t make it.
A Very Blemished Evening
June 11, 2013
Canberrans!
Now is (almost) the time to come and hear novella-ist Nigel Featherstone, and poets JC Inman and P.S. Cottier. We’re all published by Blemish Books. Band Jason Recliner will open proceedings at Smiths Alternative on Thursday, 20th June at 6pm.
Smiths has a bar.
Smiths has a bar.
Smiths has a bar.
Tuesday poem: Innumerate
June 3, 2013
Innumerate
Adding up was one thing, boring as thick porridge,
each sum a trial rather than a triumph, but I could
do it, just, stir that numbered pot, when teacher-cook
required us to follow her bland, lumpy recipe.
Once spicy symbols joined the foul stew, however,
I was forever lost. Mathematics was a language
alien to my brain, slipping off unformed synapses
like bald car tyres on slick roads. I crashed out.
I comforted myself with the appearance
of her pimpled acolytes; thick glasses flashing
as they squealed their joy at piggy feasts of number.
I was vegetarian amongst eaters of formulaic flesh.
I still am. My brain is one-sided, and it walks like a sailor
who has lost his wooden leg, but can’t read the compass
to save his limp, to save his salty soul. But so what?
My mathy albatross still stinks — and I’ve sailed different seas.
P.S. Cottier
This poem appeared recently in The Canberra Times. Unfortunately, the first word was inadvertently removed, which made the whole poem a little difficult to understand. I thought I’d post it here in its uncropped form.
For more poetry, press this feather, and read the work of other Tuesday Poets:
Tuesday poem: Just may be
May 27, 2013
Just may be
Just may be, out there, there’s another place
where mammals are the exception,
and green marsupials lie on towels
and listen to the orange surf,
as the unspeakable snags roast on the fire
and idly glance up to the unraked sky
where the stars like sand tell rumours
of the other, possible places that we call here.
P.S. Cottier
A slightly more subtle approach might be appreciated
Yes, it’s speculative, and I am Australian, and therefore my little poem could be considered for The Stars Like Sand, an anthology of Australian speculative poetry, submissions to which close on 4th June*. Here, one more time, is the link to the full submission guidelines. I am arguably a little odd in putting up another reminder, as we have already received a large number of poems. But Tim Jones and myself, as editors, are the very embodiments of the desire for greater and greater amounts of work. We would like to have even a fuller swag into which we can reach, rummage, and draw out the ingredients for intensely difficult decisions. Send in your poems, Australian poets.
Our historical research is turning up wonderful poems, too, which makes things even more delightfully difficult.
*Note that poems need not contain roos or barbeques to qualify. This one just happens to contain these glorious elements.
Now, to escape this rampant Australianity, click this feather, and be transported to New Zealand (and to other places), for more poetry:
Countdown to anthology deadline…
May 17, 2013
Australian poets! If you have been sitting on your elegant bottoms thinking ‘I may submit this excellent poem to an anthology of speculative poetry written by Australians some day,’ well that day is today.
Submissions for The Stars Like Sand close on June 4th, so read the full submission guidelines:
And submit yourself to my tender mercies, and those of my co-editor, Tim Jones.
The poetry semi is about to leave…
We have already received a large number of submissions from Australia and from Australians living in other places. Add yourself to this roll of honour today! And next year you may be reading your work in an Interactive Publications tome.
PS Cottier 