what Katy did I must admit was not something I expected I had thought that she might like to fly and she sings you know a whisper carried on the breeze sometimes she idles hours away sometimes she stretches out wing to wing so pretty but what Katy did was to immerse herself just like … Continue reading time and Katy
he wished to see the sky he looked inside himself to find his dreams his hopes his pride he gazed up beyond the clouds into the blue ~ Poem #495 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.
Thanks you to Mick Canning for his wonderful review of Small Town Kid.
I’m off to the mountains for an overnight stay in a tent tonight. I think Mick might enjoy that. Check out his writings about the Hill Stations of India.
I have enjoyed Frank’s poetry ever since I discovered it a couple of years ago.
Small Town Kid is a book of poems about growing up in a small town in Australia during the 1960’s and 1970’s. The town is provincial, the way that small towns invariably are, where everyone knows everyone else, and everyone else’s business.
In those days, a small town was very different to a small town today, now the internet and social media have changed even the slow-paced life of these places forever. And so those of a certain age will recognise many of the situations and much of subject matter of these poems, while to those much younger they may well seem almost alien.
Rich in emotions, as well as in visual detail, we listen to Frank describe experiences such as hunting rabbits, letting off fireworks, and going on picnics, turning his nose up at…
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my light is solitary I carry it alone your light should not shine where I can see it how can I be solitary alone alone alone how can I when your light shines where I must see it you are vexatious to me you seek to be alone right there yet you shine so close … Continue reading solitary intrusion
hee-yah! hee-yah! I am herding the stars these recalcitrant stars across the wide black plain they are forming a line they are shining hee-yah! I crack the corded whip haa! I crack the corded whip haa! haa! haa! hee-yah! Meteor! go round them up Meteor! make them line streak (you good thing) go around … Continue reading droving (the milky way)
the wide awaits it is just … … there and yet we flock our wings may touch at a sudden turn we will startle at shadows and yet ... there remains the wide the high ~
Yesterday's on air interview/chat between Sandra Moon and frank Prem on local ABC is here.
oil is immiscible with water a rainbow on the road is proof that opposites may still be attracted attractive not miscible and not the same but you look so very good with me ~ Poem #493 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.
This is just a note to make sure that folk know that I post an occasional newsletter for updates and newsy things that sometimes don't make it to the blog page here. If you would like to be included in distribution of the newsletter, let me know an email address that I can use and … Continue reading Newsletters. Interested?
in the period when time stood still the old man grasped for a memory a mislaid memory somewhere … in the recesses … an old mind he thought I am an old mind full up with clutter a workshop overfilled with boxes and jars of screws and nails and bolts and tools and memories finally … Continue reading trigger