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.
Tuesday poem: Skywhale haiku
May 13, 2013
Cetaceous floater
chewing soft cud of sky krill
blubbered cumulus
P.S. Cottier
The best thing to happen during Canberra’s Centenary Celebrations (there are a lot of capitals around at the moment in the nations’s capital) took to the air outside the National Gallery on Saturday.
Skywhale, a balloon sculpture designed by Patricia Piccinini, is not exactly your typical whale. She has a bit of the turtle about her, and wings made of breasts. Is she an angel? I don’t know, but her presence is peaceful and wonderful; confusing those who like straight lines and easy classifications.
The money, some people are shouting! The outrageousness of producing a whale that isn’t even a proper whale for the centenary of an inland city! The threat to mental law and order! Read some of the comments here on RiotACT, where the haiku was posted by me as a comment. I didn’t want to argue the case, as Skywhale seemed so strangely perfect in her ambiguity. A poem seemed more appropriate.
There should be more of this sort of perplexing beauty, confounding those who think that art should be confined to easily recognisable portraits and lovely landscapes punctuated with useful sheep:
Moustaches and merinos
made Australia what she is today.
No fleecy clouds of maybe here!
No blubbering queens of perhaps,
with flowing boas of breast to tease
certainty into mere sniffle;
our capital’s castaway.
P.S. Cottier
Through all the controversy, Skywhale maintains her dignity, moving gently through the sky with her wings of breasts, a kindly and whimsical presence, powered by hot air but quite serene. Skywhale is certainly the Queen of the Centenary. She will soon be touring the country, looking down on her subjects with that benign and somewhat Mona Lisa smile.
Mona Lisa with barnacles
Long may she swish through the skies, delighting those who prefer their art to have a little whimsy, and to pose a few questions, at the same time that it delights and sets us free.
Click this feather for further poetry:
Tuesday poem: ‘Colonials’
May 6, 2013
Colonials
Angels dancing on pins are nothing to us.
Those celestials number thousands,
harpies with harps, slippery butterflies.
Bring the formeldehyde, I say,
and still their antic twists.
We live in millions, simple stars,
galaxies that give no light.
A bone slung hammock,
a fleshy divan,
your body transports us
as we rock, divide, and redivide.
Under the curved
frowns of your fingernails,
on the flaky deserts of your head,
we plant our sprawling flag.
Any crevice is our castle, your mouth
a plunge-pool for our disport.
Arise, Sir Realm, Lady Habitat.
King Bacillus is well pleased.
P.S. Cottier
Really, these little things rule the world; a successful form that’s been around a lot longer than we have, and which may outlast us.
Sucked in, hm?
Now, press this feather to read more, possibly less infectious, poetry:
Tuesday poem: Almost pastoral, and a reading
April 29, 2013
Almost pastoral
Looking past the one long leg of tarmac spider, head in Sydney,
refusing to see her iPod plugged ears, hear tart mozzie hums,
or feel insinuating throb of pocket phone, nudging like a bull
against fabric seclusion, I spread blanket on bleached ground.
I closed eyes, and opened them, misting the scene in moisture.
I applied numbing cream to mounds of anted bites, reddening.
Wished away health filled salad, replaced carrot crunch with Corot,
cocky squawk with cagey flute. Then checking watch, I turned to go.
P.S. Cottier
A brand new poem as I enter a very busy week. Tomorrow night (Wednesday), at 7.30, I’m reading at Manning Clark House, 11 Tasmania Circle, Forrest, along with Charlotte Clutterbuck and Geoff Page. Do come along if you’re in Canberra. There’s an entry fee, which includes wine and snacks. It is $10, and $7 concession. Then there will be excellent books for sale, so don’t forget to buy one of them, if you are able.
A podcast of three of my poems is now available at the Blemish Books site. If you like what you hear, the book can be ordered from the very same site.
I have had a poem called ‘A question for Jane’ published at the Eureka Street blog: http://www.eurekastreet.com.au/article.aspx?aeid=36017 . The Jane in question had the surname of Austen, so have a look if you have time, and answer the question for yourself.
For other poems, please press this link. The Tuesday Poets are a group who are many and varied, and seemingly moulting:
PS Cottier 