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Category Archives: Poetry
March 18, 2016 – 4:00 pm
To celebrate World Poetry Day 2016 we are holding our inaugural amateur poetry competition. Opens Today 18 March 2016 and closes April 18 2016.
. Open to residents of Queensland, Australia who have not yet attained any formal publication credits (excluding personal blogs/social media).
. One poem only, no word count limit, no theme, any subject, any style.
. Entries close 5pm April 18
. Free to enter
The editors of Bareknuckle Poet will select ten entries for publication in a special online edition at bareknucklepoet.com and the winning entry from this shortlist will be published in our print journal Bareknuckle Poet Anthology 2016 alongside some of the most critically acclaimed poets and writers in the world. The winning poet will be invited to read their work at the anthology launch at the Brisbane Writers Festival in September 2016.
Read about the Bareknuckle Poet Anthology 2015 at The Australian.
March 11, 2016 – 10:42 am
David Adès is a Pushcart Prize nominated poet currently relocating to Australia after living in Pittsburgh since 2011. He has been a member of Friendly Street Poets since 1979. He is the author of Mapping the World (Friendly Street Poets / Wakefield Press, 2008) commended for the Anne Elder Award 2008, and the chapbook Only the Questions Are Eternal(Garron Publishing, 2015). His poems have appeared widely in Australia and the U.S. in publications including over 20 of the Friendly Street Readers, and numerous literary magazines and have also been widely anthologized, most recently inVerse Envisioned: Poems from the Pittsburgh Post Gazette and Works of Art They Have Inspired. In 2014 David was awarded the inaugural University of Canberra Vice-Chancellor’s International Poetry Prize and was also shortlisted for the Newcastle Poetry Prize.
March 6, 2016 – 10:04 am
Rose Hunter is the author of the poetry books You As Poetry (Texture Press, Oklahoma), [four paths] (Texture), to the river (Artistically Declined Press, Oregon), as well as the chapbook descansos (dancing girl press, Chicago). She is from Brisbane, spent many years in Canada, and is now in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico. More information about her is available at Whoever Brought Me Here Will Have To Take Me Home (http://rosehunterblog.
© Bareknuckle Poet ~ Journal of Letters & Individual Authors 2016. Edited by Brentley Frazer, A. G. Pettet & Guests. All works published by Bareknuckle Poet ISSN 2204 – 0420 are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. Published by Bareknuckle Books ABN 23 626 812 677 PO Box 5009, West End, Brisbane, Australia 4101 FOUNDED – BRISBANE, AUSTRALIA 2014
February 10, 2016 – 10:10 am
I thought about where I was
until I was there
where I thought I understood—
the town talking to the city
and the words not wasted there—
but they couldn’t hear
what it is I’m hearing
by way of destruction & abandonment
& washing up on another shore—
being interviewed by
Slick Entrepreneurs, Savage Impresarios
& Media Moguls of Information Technology—
illusions of immanence,
the voice coming up out of the typewriter—
extremely loud, painfully clear—
but the kids, yeah, the kids,
they don’t even know
what a typewriter is.
. . .
February 4, 2016 – 10:54 am
The courage season
The days. You try to settle them in diaries, but they can’t be
Herded, tamed. They’re here to counter, perhaps best
Each chess move, your ability to push out from dead corners.
Curiosity, action and laughter are contagious as are their
Opposites. At crucial times you’ll need to go out on a limb to
Understand the landscape, to see the outlines of false paths.
Risk being a tightrope walker rather than a pedestrian. It’s
A case of attitude over altitude.
Go beyond data, dithering, staring at photographs of dead
Explorers. Today awaits your focus, imprint and bold steps.
Some self-examination is what the moral doctor ordered.
Excuses are crutches. Let them clatter to the ground.
A balance is sought but there are tremors, shifts, seizures.
Solutions come to the alert, the open-minded, excited by
Obstacles rather than dismayed. Perhaps right now there’s
No-one more in need of surprising than yourself.
. . .
January 4, 2016 – 8:50 am
Stuart is a lecturer in creative writing and literary studies at Griffith University, Queensland, Australia. His next collection of poetry, Opera, will be published by Five Islands Press in 2016.
December 17, 2015 – 9:19 am
A POETIC LIFE
A few years ago I ran into this poet type who seemed to be alright
We would meet occasionally, invariably at gigs, and get right down to the important part of any poetry gig, the drinking…
As poets wandered to and from the stage the pair of them sat, quietly, soaking in the words
Some were good, some were bad and, some, just sounded all the same
A bad white rapper kid followed by a classical, very often of the smug, rich and dull type
During the intervals they would chat and occasionally one of us would rush outside
One to comeback curiously not that stoned
Whilst the other has somehow nefariously smuggled in some cheap booze
Eventually one of them would get called and with the hall nicely full
They would go on stage and pour their heart out to an audience who rarely cared
But when they did really listen and the words took hold it was a beautiful thing, standing in the limelight alone
Soon enough though a couple of other interesting places opened up and before they knew it they had 4 gigs a month
Then along came a new face and he overwhelmed them with his enthusiasm
It was all going to be filmed and it was all going to be amazing and make everyone look great.
Well, since that day, now some 18 months ago the film has not had any more done to it besides a trailer
And I got to say I ain’t impressed, has everything come down to this
Me a phony performance artist who merely turns on when on stage
Well that’s fucking bullshit man, I’m the real me all the time
I can be fucked-up or serious whenever I want, that’s part of what makes up my life
This life, the drinks, the smokes, the heartless brutality of just how real it feels right now
That night I remember, I gave my all, had a wine bar like putty in my hand as I ranted through an expletive tirade as a wake-up call
A call to arms, a resounding success, lots of people and a regular place which from month 2 on died a slow death
It was mainly prolonged by beautiful married red-headed women who would come and tease as I read them my love letters, making the offering of my heart
To them I dedicate those nights, thanks for sticking around and making it worth my while
But now, in my local pub, we hold fort once a month and here in Brighton they’ve got me down as a performance artist
So I guess, for you people here, this isn’t an act, this is really me
Get used to the fuck-ups, enjoy the highs and anyone wanting to challenge me well just stand up and come get me and watch my words bring you down.
. . .