Tag Archives: poetry

Poetry

Rose Hunter ~ Three Poems

Rose Hunter sillyRose 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.wordpress.com). 

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Bareknuckle Poet 2016

© 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

 

Poetry

Mark Terrill ~ Six Poems

Vox PopMark Terrill - photo by Moon

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—
flash-mob-chatroom-forum-blogspot-
hashtag-digital-virtual-lifeworld scenarios—
illusions of immanence,
verbal hallucinations,
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.

. . .

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Poetry

Peter Bakowski ~ Three Poems

peter-bakowski-poetThe 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.

. . .

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Poetry

Stuart Cooke ~ Four Poems

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stuart cooke poetStuart 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.

Poetry

Five Poems by Bradford Middleton

bradford-middletonA 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.

. . .

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Poetry

Five Poems by Cal Freeman

cal-freemanFight Song of the Fiddleback

The rain tonight
dribbled through the silver
maple leaves long
after it had rained.
I sang a few bars
of Guy Clark’s “Dublin
Blues,” thinking of the spider
I hit with a boot
this afternoon for nothing
but fear and all
the pests I am always
killing to assuage
its grip. Spiders of this sort
(brown recluse?) hunt
roaches and other
insects we do not want
around. I worry over
what potting soil
and damp cardboard
will bring to the garage.
I am the type
to stay up all night
with vague foretellings
of reckonings
as I imagine
the collapsed carcass
distending its legs
once again
and scurrying away
in a gesture of weary
forgiveness though
there is nothing
a spider or a person
has the agency
to forgive.

. . .

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Poetry

Liam Ferney ~ Two Poems

Liam FerneyBy the river at Borva

The river’s chorus
of dusk birds
& what happens
to water
after boats carve
through it at speed.

Eloquence is not
everything,
naming things just
reduces them.

Defences disband,
buses shuttle
across the bridge,
buoys blink.

& like that
I find a poem
in the frayed ends
of a soft day’s
comings and goings.

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Poetry Visual Poetry

JÓZSEF BÍRÓ ~ A Libretto

jozsef-biroan irregular mini–opera in three acts/movements

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