Author Archives: Bareknuckle Poet

Paul Hardacre ~ Four Poems

 

rail of moon, a stone

black sun burning down & east
her milk & blood alone
knows the egg nilotic white
like wax or beauty dies

passes soil a breath a crawl
of colour bed or moon
noise & voice & like a corpse
beloved her shaded bird

good or easy shield a heart
rubedo water cold
burning sweet by tasting life
in death by honey stone

army lovers sword the search
for mountain tones a stone
inside her vestal lily
fragments a face of day

rising in the anxious sky
a comet dies or shines

〰️〰️〰️

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Frank O’Hara 50 Years

We are a month late paying tribute to you, Frank, you left us on July 26 1966 but we’ve put together a bumper issue of Bareknuckle Poet in your memory and even if no one buys it at least it’ll be sitting in the National Library of Canberra for a few more generations, to show we cared. We love you, Frank, may you memory live on. If you are inBrisbane on September 9 come join us for the launch – you really have no excuse not to http://bareknucklepoet.com/anthology-vol-2-launch-9th-september/

 

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Anthology Vol.2 Launch 9th September

Come join us at the Brisbane Writers Festival 9th September 2016: Guests – Samuel Wagan Watson, Mandy Beaumont and Edward Willes https://uplit.com.au/festival/brisbane-writers-festival/program/bareknuckle-press-launch

Angela Peita ~ Three Poems

The truth about your depressionIMG_9331

So, I’ve never been good at lying.
It’s not that I don’t have the creativity to come up with a good story
It’s just that I never have the guts to pull it off
And It’s not like I haven’t tried
I’ve spent time doing supermarket crimes
Putting my macadamias through as bananas at the self serve checkout
But by the time I get to the car my hearts beating the intro to a cardiac arrest and
It’s just not worth its weight
I’ve always been this way, When I was a kid
My parents would know I’d done something wrong
Because I’d put myself in the naughty corner
So it surprises me more than anyone when you ask me if I can handle this
And the word that comes out of my mouth is
Yes

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Bareknuckle Poet Annual Amateur Poetry Competition 2016

ampoetryleader

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Andrew Galan ~ Five Poems

Responding to Fireflies in the GardenAndrewGalan

Frost, your epigram is mistaken
with its parenthetical assertion
critical of garden Lampyridae.
Hydrogen means atomically
fireflies always really are
stars at heart.

. . .

‘I will break their guitar.’ – Joan Miró, 1927

The Firefly Assassin

I read a poet writing how a poem is like
a firefly trapped in a glass jar and I thought
that’s a terrible metaphor
you’ve imprisoned, displayed, suffocated
for spectacle, interest, boredom.
But I know we do it
take trophies, torture, kill
until many of us grow up, learn not to
and my clichés are no better.
So this is right, disagreeable –
let’s keep executing poetry.

. . .

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For All The Veronicas Launches Tonight

Join us at Riverbend Books tonight for the launch of the latest in our Bareknuckle Poets pocketbook series. Andrew Galan’s For All The Veronicas (The Dog Who Staid)

 

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