Voices (In The Trash) – DG (Debby) Kaye’s review

It is interesting the way serendipity works. In the last couple of days I have been finalising (I hope) the Beechworth Bakery Bears sequel (waiting for frank-bear) and sorting through available images, with a particular eye on a second tranche of photos taken at the Daylesford Mill Markets - the home of the voices from … Continue reading Voices (In The Trash) – DG (Debby) Kaye’s review

white smiles (remora scatter)

The shouting and the crying ~ the finof a greatwhitebreaks the surface slicesthrough the yellow-whiteundulationsof the sprawlof sand it is asleekcreature ~ the huge whitecetaceanis exhausted a puff of dustand periodicfaint whistlingare all the signsof lifeit has leftto manifest it is aware –now –that it is being circledand sized how not? yetit remains placidin mood … Continue reading white smiles (remora scatter)

dry storm (and small care)

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces ~ I am in mindtodayof a dry storm portents swirllike . . . like biting grainsof sandsent skyward airis gonebut notthe needto breathe a singing windsurroundsmy boundaries a rattled shoveto opendoors I take my stance on the floorcross-legged will my voiceto –in opposition –roar butI am a mannotan … Continue reading dry storm (and small care)

#Poetry #Book #Reviews: “Sheep on the Somme, A World War I Pictures & Poetry Project,” by Frank Prem, @frank_prem

My thanks to Colleen Cheseboro for her wonderful new review of Sheep On The Somme.

It is quite marvelous to realise that a piece of work – a labour of love for the author – resonates and affects others. Readers from all over. It is humbling and gratifying and inspiring all in a single breath.

Colleen is a fine practitioner and proponent of syllabic and short poetry as well as being inclined to the faerie and the fey.

I recommend a visit over to her place to read this and other reviews and to peek around to see the treasures for yourself.

🎃Word Craft: Prose & Poetry🎃

Your Next Poetry Book Read!

I’ve created a spot here on Word Craft Poetry for poetry book reviews. You’ll find this new category listed in the Navigation menu at the left of the blog. I’ll try to review a couple of books a month. Stay tuned.

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From the Author

In this Picture Poetry collection, journey with the AIF, the ANZACS and the German and French armies at war on the Western Front during the Great War of 1914 – 1918.

Have your photo taken in a studio in Cairo, and your heart broken on a small street in Ballarat.

The bombs are falling in an endless fusillade of artillery fire from both sides of the conflict, turning the Somme into a clagging stew of slurried mud and maddened men.

Frank Prem has taken images of men at war and created verse stories to accompany them…

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Wasteland Project – chugging along

A little update. I finally worked through Section 3 - The Fire Sermon, which was tough going - very demanding, in my interpretation. Amazingly quickly, I have also written through Section 4 - Death by Water. It was a short section and I found my way through that without too much trouble. It's been awhile … Continue reading Wasteland Project – chugging along

Kel Shaw’s 9/11 Project

My thanks and appreciation to Kel Shaw of Wagga in NSW for including me in her poignant 9/11 commemorative project, titled simply The 9/11 Project. Kel has curated stories and memories of 9/11 from a wide range of people, just telling what they have to share of that tragic day. The projecty has been a … Continue reading Kel Shaw’s 9/11 Project

nothing (until)

My people humble people who expectNothing.”la la ~ what is there –when the beginningis nothing –but hope and what –when you havenothing –is there for youto cling to hopehopehope evenwhen the best prospect –examinedfrom any angle –is bleak there remains . . . must remainhope there is courage neededto leavea hopeless life courageeven to recognizethat … Continue reading nothing (until)

no point (in weeping)

After the eventHe wept. He promised a ‘new start. ~ I think backto the beginning so long ago . . . just yesterday . . . I can hardly rememberthe old man passingstruggling to remainhis own managainst the lonely oddsof the first lock downand his concrete lungs before thatthe old lady how did it becomeso … Continue reading no point (in weeping)