Tuesday weirdness: All I know about poetry
June 28, 2016
All I know about poetry
(Part 1)
1. A rural location can easily slip into nineteenth century pastiche.
2. Some people still worry so much about form that they forget the poem part.
3. Shouting is neither good nor bad, but thought is quite worthwhile.
4. Better Byron than Wordsworth (see 1. above).
5. Those who avoid politics like herpes are often boring —
except for your rare and surprising, Emily-grade genius.
6. Birds are usually to be avoided like the word ‘roseate’ —
why write a poem about a feathered poem inevitably more complete?
(Exceptions include galahs, budgies, swamp dwellers, vultures, and anything else.)
7. Even an Irish accent doesn’t guarantee a good poem.
8. Gatekeepers are attracted to the mundanely beautiful.
9. Bathos is easy.
10. Most people regard poetry as a weird type of embroidery —
at least you only prick your soul on it.
Everyday Canberra scene
Now I hope you have been taking notes. There will probably not be a quiz next week, but still…In another life I was a hideous teacher in an old-school school.
Project 365 + 1, or my involvement in it, is drawing to a close at the end of the financial year, which is purely coincidental. 30 poems in 30 days. There should be a law against it!
Anthologies
June 24, 2016
This week I received two anthologies in which I have poems. They are First refuge: Poems on social justice (Ginninderra Press) edited by Ann Nadge, and Suddenly Curving Space Time: Australian Experimental Poetry 1995-2015 (non-Euclidean Press) edited by Gerald Keaney and Hal Judge.
Switching between the two is an interesting experience. I have just started to read them both.
I especially like the ‘non-Euclidean spine’ of the experimental book, which is working its way through the binding like a space-worm. Well, what do you think makes wormholes?
The poet I dislike is writing
He frowns, and two buttocks
appear on the outside
of the vertical line
creasing from nose to baldness.
He finds the word for the poem,
the exact right nugget,
and squeezes it from his head.
He wipes it on the paper.
A study in brown, he continues.
He strains towards immortality.
P.S. Cottier
Wistful and vicious
Now from Wednesday June 1st, I’ll be writing and posting a poem every day at a different site, called Project 365 + 1. Here’s the link. I’ll see how it goes for a month. But poetry will continue to appear here, usually on Tuesdays, even if I may lapse into egregious loveliness from time to time.
Frequent flyers: Poetry, music, birds
May 23, 2016
Frequent Flyers: The Lives of Coastal Birds is a group exhibition currently showing at Durras Progress Hall, cnr Corilla & Banyanda Streets, South Durras, NSW, running until Sunday 29th May. On that Sunday, at 3pm, there will be a poetry and music performance at the venue, and I’ll be reading some bird poems, as will Sarah Rice, Johanna Rendle-Short, and Kerrie Nelson. Helen Maxwell, who has organised the event, will be reading a poem by Francesca Rendle-Short and another one by Sue Fielding. It sounds like a fun afternoon! There will be flutes and ukuleles, although probably not at the same time.
Sunday 29 May, 3pm – Bird concert and poetry recital – followed by exhibition closing drinks $10 – BOOKINGS ESSENTIAL. For bookings contact Helen Maxwell helen {AT} helenmaxwell.com, or ring 0439 876 645.
South Durras is a beautiful part of the world, about two hours drive from Canberra. The photo below shows the main surf beach, from the dunes.
Death to all poetry gardens!
In my garden I grow hebetude
just near the wistfulsteria.
The nodding fields of dilligafs
raise two-petal fingers,
yellowed with gorgeous nicotine.
(They hate the word roseate,
beloved of neat poetry gardeners.)
Then the rose ate the budgie,
and westringia strangled the cat.
P.S.Cottier
Looks a tad roseate to me
I’ve become heartily sick of a certain type of Very Nice Poem which moves too easily between description of nature as a mere pretty thing and the poet’s (often fairly tedious) personal reflections. Doesn’t mean I won’t write one again, but I will slap myself with a tulip as I do so.
In June I will be attempting to write a poem a day at another site; more on that soon. I’ll also keep posting at least once a week here. So now I’m off to tend the worm-poem farm, to help with the fervid compostition.
Next week: Less puns.
PS Cottier 