Tag Archives: Sylvia Plath

QPF Spotlight #14 – Jessika Tong’s Desert(ed) Island Poems

Last year at QPF, one of my highlights was an afternoon reading by local Brisbane poet, Jessika Tong; words raw and engaging, pulling the crowd into her at times unsettling world. Audiences will again have the opportunity to hear Jessika at this year’s QLD Poetry Festival, so I asked her about the poems she would tuck into her hip-pocket if she was heading off to a Desert(ed) Island.

 

Jessika Tong

 

Lady Lazarus – Sylvia Plath

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I’ve a call.

This poem, to me, is beautiful. I have always admired the sharp, short but brutal lines of ‘Lady Lazarus’, as well as its honesty and brave approach to language.  I first read this poem when I was fourteen and have come to greatly appreciate its place amongst my collection of favourites with its stabbing lines and bold imagery. I have always been an avid reader of Plath and a great admirer of the ways in which she chose to express herself.

Ash, ash –
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there –

I don’t think ‘Lady Lazarus’ is sun and sand material but I would take it, regardless of the scenery.

 

Bindawalla, binda, bindi, bindii – Elizabeth Hodgson

I enjoy the simple words of this poem. The way it doesn’t glamorize but haunts with its starkness (deserted island) – this is what makes it appealing. I discovered this poem only a few weeks ago and immediately shoved it under the eyes of friends just to see if it broke their hearts as well (it did).

The nurses laughed as they put me in a shoe-box
And gave me to my mother: she cried.

I was weighed and measured.
With the Apgar score they rated me
To see if I could survive in this world on my own.

 

Rapunzel – Anne Sexton

Anne Sexton has always been a curious creature. I find myself drawn to her confessions and fragile but dark wordplay. The way she dominates a line with her famous ‘I’. Her recreation of ‘Rapunzel’ shows her brilliant mastery of taking a beloved fairytale and making it entirely her own. I adore most of Sexton’s work but ‘Rapunzel’ remains a solid favourite (as does the entire collection of ‘Transformations’) since fairytales and folk lore (Baltic) have always entranced me. I grew up with a mother who looked like a witch and read me tale after tale in front of a crackling fireplace so I feel very much at home when I am reading ‘Rapunzel’.

As for Mother Gothel,
Her heart shrank to the size of a pin,
Never again to say: Hold me, my young dear,
Hold me,
And only as she dreamt of the yellow hair
Did moonlight sift into her mouth.

 

Light breaks where no sun shines – Dylan Thomas

Light breaks where no sun shines;
Where no sea runs, the waters of the heart
Push in their tides;
And, broken ghosts with glow-worms in their heads,
The things of light
File through the flesh where no flesh decks the bones.

This poem describes the body, or the death of the body, in the most extraordinary way – its slow decay with connection to earth “the secret of the soil grows through the eye”. Like all great Thomas poems, there seems to be edge to something other than man, woman, body, sea, animal, bone and light. Like many of the other poems I would select, this one would not suit an island littered with sun tanned shoulders and coconut milk.

 

You took away all the oceans and all the rooms (307) – Osip Mandelstam

I have carried this poem around with me in a notebook for years. Transferring it when each book became fat and useless. Mandelstam died in the Gulags of Russia but wrote this particular poem while in exile. It is a brave poem, highlighting the human spirit without making one gag.

You took away all the oceans and all the room.
You gave me my shoe-size in earth with bars around it.
Where did it get you? Nowhere.
You left me my lips, and they shape words, even in silence.

 

The Nim Poems – Dorothy Hewett

Alice turning eleven
Watching the blood trickle
Between her thighs onto the warm boards
The woodbugs investigated it
For touching myself on the woodheap
I must be going to die she thought

This poem is an epic and is broken up into seventy-two verses under a number of sub-headings. I love the way that Alice’s life (the centre piece of the poem) is slowly rolled out with its mythical undertones and raw language. Hewett writes poetry that is adventurous and the Nim poems are a great example of her wild talent and provocative imagination – she is not shy and this is why I appreciate this set (and her) so much.

She went to the races
Pregnant in a black pill box hat
With a veil
He borrowed his father’s ute
& drove her to the abortionist’s
The unregistered doctor came
In the dark & masturbated her clitoris
Relax  he told her

 

In a dark time – Theodore Roethke

What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The days on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks – is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I  have.

This poem is incredibly rich with imagery and rhythm. It reads like a heartbeat. Poems which generally describe self-discovery can be flowery and are poems which I usually avoid except for this one. ‘In a dark time’ is fat with death-like images but is rich with hope, recording the pain one must go through in search of the I. “A fallen man, I climb out of my fear. The mind enters itself, and God the mind, and one is One, free in the tearing wind”. What an exquisite creature Roethke is.

 

And you as well must die, beloved dust – Edna St. Vincent Millay

This flawless, vital hand, this perfect head,
This body of flame and steel, before the gust
Of Death, or under his autumnal frost
Shall be as any leaf, be no less dead

This poem bleeds and aches. It is truly beautiful and one of my all time favourites with its wonderful ode to lost love and death. This is a poem to sit quietly with as it is flooded with such intense imagery that it demands to be read slowly so as to be truly absorbed. I like the way that nature is used to describe decay of body, love, and life and how the appreciation of beauty is stitched into each line adding to the poems romantic appeal.

 

Trees – Jordie Albiston

My breasts fall free my torso expands
Hair covers my flesh like a friend   I
Feel my roots burgeon back down the
Years I stretch and stand to leave

‘Trees’ is pure magic. This poem was given to me as a gift when I was eighteen and although the pages have grown a faint yellow around the edges I have never grown bored of it. I like the connection to earth and how this is drawn back into the poet’s (or female) body.

Please do not feed the trees
They do not hunger  They do not seethe
Or writhe   requiring the control of
Nylon silk   twisted   root bound foot

The way Albiston is able to create an almost tree-like envy while wrapping the female into root and bark greatly appeals to me. I grew up in a pine forest and have always carried with me, and throughout my own work, the image of trees and I have always been fascinated by their appearance within the poems of others (The moon and the yew tree by Sylvia Plath).

 

And there’s no grave – Marina Tsvetaeva

And there’s no grave! No separation, ending!
The tables un-spelled, the house – wakened up.
Like Death – on a gay dinner after wedding,
I’m Life, arrived on the last evening sup!

Marina Tsvetaeva reminds me of my Grandmother by the sharpness of her face and severe fringe. My Grandmother smelt of her garden, beheaded chickens without crying, poured entire bottles of Brandy in her trifles. She always reminded me of a woman from the old world. A Tsvetaeva (although not Russian, but German). I admire Tsvetaeva originality, her spitting lines, and at times, her hardness.

 

About Jessika:

Jessika Tong grew up in a small pine village on the Northern Island of New Zealand and has spent most of her adult life in Central and South East Queensland. Jessika has appeared within various literary journals including Motherlode: Australian Women’s Poetry 1986 – 2008, Poetry Matters, The Age, The Australian Literature Review, The Westerly, Wet Ink, Tears in the Fence FourWnineteen, Mascara, Pendulum, LinQ, Poetrix, Polestar and Verandah22. Her first collection, The Anatomy of Blue was released in December 2008 by SunLine Press.

 

Words
by Jessika Tong

I came over the green flanked
Sea of the Arctic hooked pike
With brilliant gristle I came madly
Rocked the crotch bell split the
Artery of its tarred filaments let
The lid off your blood box

A studded stump of a man now
Cleaned of your gorse you achieve
Talent, nerves, the watery earth
Of the eye its black points and
Waxy edge of white humanness,
Pureness, at last, you are one of us

A beggar for ink in your house
I have filleted books of their sternums
Poured alphabets down the throats
Of geese until their livers, fat with dictionaries,
Swelled the emptied nib of a pen we are
Nothing special but hands in suffrage

Finding windows in bodies small curtains
Of meat a kind of light that turns on when
The tongue stamps its ownership
It does not breathe or speak
Its teeth poisoned at the root it
Opens, grisly as a cut throat, blowing red balloons.

 

Catch Jessika at QPF 2009:

Saturday August 22 – 1:30pm – 2:30pm

Spine of Lost Voices: featuring Jessika Tong, Noelle Janaczewska & Elizabeth Bachinsky

 

Saturday August 22 – 8:00pm

A Million Bright Things: featuring a short set from every bright thing on the 2009 program plus a feature set from the awesome Neil Murray

 

All sessions are held at the Judith Wright Centre of Contemporary Arts, Brunswick St. Fortitude Valley.

For full program details head to www.queenslandpoetryfestival.com

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Desert(ed) Island Poems #6 – Alan Jefferies

Sunday morning is a time of strangeness… remnants of the week prior still swimming somewhere inside us and the prospects of the week ahead beginning to materialise. It is somehow quieter than all other mornings. The perfect space for us to travel in and out of the poems that inhabit the Desert(ed) Island of Alan Jefferies.

 

alan-jefferies

 

Each of the ten Desert(ed) Island poems illustrates for me one of the desirable qualities of poetry. Of course these qualities overlap and many of the poems contain more than one.  These traits are what I look for in poetry, my own and other peoples.

that which we call a rose – Michael Dransfield

Dransfield was probably the first Australian poet that I had a real encounter with. A lot of Australian poetry that I’d read up to the age of 17 had no effect on me whatsoever. Dransfield stopped me. He was a hard one to get past. He remains for me one of only a handful of Australian poets, living or dead, who deserves that title. I’ll always remember reading the poem “Fix” to the prefects in year 12 at Cleveland State High. “Once you’ve become a drug addict, you never want to become anything else”. They were horrified. I learnt then that great poetry can make comfortable people uncomfortable, and in the Land of Snug, that’s not such a bad thing. The quality that this Dransfield poem illustrates for me is directness. Saying how it is without artifice or ploy.

Read the poem here: http://www.sweatywheels.com/Dransfield/rose.html

 

my groupie – Charles Bukowski

Humour is hard to do in poetry.  And I don’t necessarily mean the belly laughs of a stand-up comedian. Irony, understatement, hyperbole,  anything that can lighten the dead weight of seriousness in poetry is, in my view, a good thing. Bukowski did humour well. A little coarse most of the time and incorrect as hell but if you’re looking for someone to lower the tone – Hank’s your man. Levity is the quality this poem exemplifies.

Read the poem here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-groupie/

 

Daddy – Sylvia Plath

I’ve always loved this poem. My affection only deepened when I came across a recording of Plath reading it aloud. Direct, passionate, unbalanced but perfectly poised at the same time. I love the incantation of the nursery rhyme juxtaposed with the dark, somewhat unsettling subject matter. Rhythm is the quality this poem highlights.

Read the poem here: http://www.internal.org/view_poem.phtml?poemID=356
Listen to it here: http://au.youtube.com/watch?v=6hHjctqSBwM

 

The Red Wheelbarrow – William Carlos Williams

This poem illustrates the quality of brevity, which I think is so important in poetry. Not a single word gone to waste, nothing explained, nothing left unsaid.

Read the poem here: http://www.writing.upenn.edu/~afilreis/88/wcw-red-wheel.html

 

In my craft or sullen art – Dylan Thomas

This poem says a lot about the craft of writing poetry and it also reminds us why not to write poetry:

Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages

The poem reads like free verse but is actually very structured. Each line has a regular number of syllables and stresses and the final two lines fall into a conventional iambic pattern. Form is an important quality of good poetry and this poem reminds me of that.

Read the poem here: http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/476.html

 

Some people – Rita Ann Higgins

What I like about this poem is that it’s engaged. Engaged with the real world struggles that real people are engaged with.  In my view there are too many poems that are lost in the miasma of all things me. On my desert(ed) island those poems would be banned, along with all other assortments of self-indulgence.

Read the poem here: http://dontstrayfromthepath.tumblr.com/post/63895893

 

Candles – Constantine P Cavafy

Luminosity is for me an important quality of good poetry. Cavafy remains one of my all time favourites. His poems illuminate the subject matter using everyday words and a directness that I very much admire.

Read the poem here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/candles/

 

Flame Point – Jules Supervielle

Whenever I start a new notebook I handwrite this poem onto the first page. I love it but I struggle to explain why. Read it for yourself.

Flame Point
by Jules Supervielle translated by Allen Mandel Bawm

All his life
he loved to read
by candlelight
and often passed
his hand across
the flame
in order to
persuade
himself that he
was alive
was alive

And since the day
he died
he keeps
a burning candle
at his side
and yet
his hands
he hides

 

Sometime during eternity… – Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Ferlingetti often manages to infuse his poems with lightness and humour and in my opinion these qualities go a long way in poetry. See, I’m already starting to repeat myself.

Read the poem here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sometime-during-eternity/

 

Looking for a monk and not finding him – Li Po

Li Po brings all the qualities I like in poetry together in his work. Clear, lyrical, luminous, and engaged – all the qualities that modern Australian poetry for the most part eschews.

Read the poem here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/looking-for-a-monk-and-not-finding-him/

 

Alan Jefferies reads at Riverbend Books alongside Jessika Tong, Anna Krien & Felicity Plunkett on Tuesday February 24. Details below:

Date: Tuesday 24 February
Location: Riverbend Books, 193 Oxford St. Bulimba
Time: Doors open for the event at 6pm for a 6:30pm start
Tickets: $10 available through Riverbend Books and include sushi and complimentary wine. To purchase tickets, call Riverbend Books on (07) 3899 8555 or book online at www.riverbendbooks.com.au

Spaces are limited so book early to avoid disappointment!

About Alan:

Alan Jefferies was born in Brisbane and grew up in Cleveland. He lived in Sydney and Coalcliff for much of the 80’s and 90’s and obtained degrees in Communication and Writing from the University of Technology, Sydney. In 1998 he moved to Hong Kong where he lived until 2007. With Kit Kelen and Mani Rao he started the spoken word reading OutLoud. In 2002 an anthology of work from these readings was published (Outloud: an anthology of poetry from Outloud readings, Hong Kong). He has published 5 collections of poetry, his most recent being Homage and other poems (Chameleon, 2007). He was recently an invited participant at the ‘Cairo International Forum of Arabic poetry’ and the ‘Tenth International Literature Festival’ in Romania. He now lives in Redland Bay. He keeps a musical alter ego at www.myspace.com/psychicstreetsweepers

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Desert(ed) Island Poems #2 – Julie Beveridge

Here is the 2nd chapter of the Desert(ed) Island Poems series. This time Brisbane poet, Julie Beveridge talks us through the poems that would accompany her to a deserted island.

 

julie-poem

 

I write the below list with the understanding that I am entitled, at any stage, to change my mind because there are so many variables… did I know I would be stranded on an island… has the world and all its literature been destroyed apart from myself and the island… am I pleased that I am stranded?… is my partner alive somewhere wondering where I am?.. you know, all the details you need to know before packing for a stint of being deserted on an island.

So, if I were stranded on a deserted island, today and for an undetermined amount of time, these are the poems that I would want to have with me… (in no particular order)

Mein KampfDavid Lerner   

This poem always excites and incites riot in me … Lerner, in a lot of his poems, affirms to me how seriously exciting poetry – and life – can be.. it’s a dancing alone in your living room poem – and seeing as I would be alone on this desert island I would love the chance to climb to the top of something and scream this poem out before flinging myself into the ocean (for thrills not kills obviously).  It’s also completely pretentious and I love that too.

I come not to bury poetry
but to blow it up
not to dandle it on my knee
like a retarded child with
beautiful eyes
but

throw it off a cliff into
icy seas and
see if the motherfucker
can swim for it’s life

Read the poem here: http://www.alsopreview.com/gazebo/messages/2305/11067.html?1168394206

 

Howl – Beau Sia 

A beautiful elegy for Allen Ginsberg…  a gorgeous response to Giny’s Howl with a 21st Century perspective – but gentle and grieving and attempting to understand something. A great mix of contemporary American lines and sonic American performance poetry.

Read full poem here:
http://ramblingwind.blogspot.com/2006/07/howl-by-beau-sia.html

 

The Red – Judson Evans

This haibun has so much hidden in it I could read it every day for a year and find something new – perfect for those long days stranded alone on a deserted island. The simple narrative has the protagonist getting out of bed in the morning, taking stock of her surrounding … and you are hit with the accompanying Haiku –

one year from your death
bright red bristles of your beard
in an old razor

 

Comma – Martin Johnston 

This poem was my introduction to Australian poetry – and it will always be in any list I write about favourite words.

because a comma can’t be spoken
I present you silence
one million translucent cigarettes
someone’s sweet-smelling tree with moons among its branches

 

Totem – Luke Davies 

A love poem in 80 amazing pages – contains a line which connected me to the love of my life. This poem is so sumptuous you almost need to be stranded on a deserted island so you can really reach inside it.

Read a review of the poem here: http://www.theage.com.au/articles/2004/05/19/1084917648202.html?from=storyrhs

 

You Don’t See Me – Graham Nunn 

Speaking of loves of lives – I would have to take this poem for the selfish reason that it’s for me and I would miss my partner terribly what with being stranded and all… though I have to clarify I can tell a frog from a toad.

Read the poem here: http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendID=119317288&page=3

 

Love Letter Post Marked Van Beethoven – Diane Wakoski 

Diane Wakoski is ridiculously prolific and delightfully mad… this would be a great poem to slowly go mad to…  she’s famous for her revenge pieces on all the ‘motorcycle betrayers’ she loved in her youth.. This one sees her day dreaming about taking them all out with a .38 Thompson Contender – a poetic Dirty Harry.

Read the poem here: http://books.google.com/books?id=b7d6yeOw2DwC&pg=PA140&lpg=PA140&dq=Love+Letter+Post+Marked+Van+Beethoven+-+Diane+Wakoski&source=bl&ots=3zHxS_NeS2&sig=vvPIhK9rYuBUP83V63wFnFJLs7s&hl=en&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=2&ct=result

 

Lady Lazurus – Sylvia Plath 

Another wonderfully mad lady – this is another poem that hooked me in at an early age – I see a lot of humour in it and it’s dramatic as Elvis, I love reading this poem out loud. A great poem to get swept up in.

Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
and I eat men like air

Read the poem here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lady-lazarus/

 

Hymn to the Rebel Cafe – Edward Sanders 

Sanders pays homage to the great people that gathered at the Rebel Cafe – but more. I think it’s a comment on communities and progression and what people doing not a whole lot can achieve when they aren’t really looking. Sanders represents how important place is to everything.

We’ll have to keep on opening & closing
our store fronts, our collectives,
our social action centres
till tulips are in the sky

Read the poem here: http://books.google.com/books?id=xIfvvl7KdigC&dq=Hymn+to+the+Rebel+Cafe+-+Edward+Sanders&printsec=frontcover&source=bl&ots=SuoiyVUIyl&sig=FmF7XTsPcEjy1IIXDfvTVwV3kvI&hl=en&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=1&ct=result#PPA11,M1

 

Mulga Bill’s Bicycle – Banjo Patterson  

Mainly for comic relief and to aid in going quietly mad whilst stranded on a deserted island – my chances of stumbling across a soccer ball like Tom Hanks did are few so a bit of Mulga Bill would do the fantastical trick I think … although if he is unavailable I’d happily take anything from Spike Milligan.

Read the poem here: http://www.middlemiss.org/lit/authors/patersonab/poetry/mulgab.html

 

About Julie:

Julie Beveridge is an emerging Queensland poet. At 26, she was the youngest director of QLD Poetry Festival to date.

She has two collections of poetry rock’n’roll tuxedo and Home is Where the Heartache is (Small Change Press) and is regularly published in print and online publications.

As an active member of the Brisbane poetry community, she is passionate about the innovation in promotion and distribution of new poetry and is always looking for a new way to deliver poetry to an audience.

Julie has been a feature artist at the Queensland Poetry Festival: spoken in one strange word; Byron Bay Writers Festival; Tasmanian Poetry Festival and the Sydney Writers Festival: 2006 Word Wrestling Federation SLAM as well as reading at various arts events in Brisbane, Noosa, Bulimba, Rockhampton, Ipswich, Nambour, The Gold Coast and Melbourne.

Julie is excited to be directing QPF 2009 and is looking forward to what is always a great experience.

heartache-cover-for-web

Buy Julie’s latest collection Home is Where the Heartache is at:

http://www.smallchangepress.com.au/titles.htm

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Desert(ed) Island Poems #1 – Ashley Capes

The concept of a Desert Island Disc is something that I have always loved. Which 10 songs would you take to a deserted island? Is it possible to take only 10!?

To take the concept into the world of poetry, this lost shark has asked some of his favourite poets to compile a list of of Desert(ed) Island Poems as a way of having each poet explore what makes a poem sing to them and to share with us the poems that are embedded in their mind, body and spirit.

First up in the series is Melbourne based poet Ashley Capes. So… which 10 poems will be sailing with Ashley to his deserted island?

Marriage – Gregory Corso

On the island, if I needed cheering up I would read Marriage. I first read this some years after getting married and found it highly amusing (though not because my experiences were similar, quite the opposite) but it has a very 1950s America vibe, the fear and the ‘goodness’ Corso is discussing does what good poetry often does – it examines and challenges social norms. And with great wit too.

Read it here: http://www.litkicks.com/Texts/Marriage.html

Hadda Be Playing on a Jukebox – Allen Ginsberg

I seem to enjoy repetition and variation within political or socially aware poetry and Ginsberg was one of the first poets to show me that these two could be combined. While Howl would last me longer on the desert island, Hadda Be Playing on a Jukebox is a little more direct and sets the bitterness and outrage in very familial settings (the kitchen, the basement, the streets, the factories, (workplace) the Mafia etc) and is all the more terrifying for it.

Read it here: http://www.musicfanclubs.org/rage/hadda.html

China – Bob Perelman

There’s so much room for the reader in this one. Every time I read it I can bring something else to the piece. Words, lines and images bounce off each other, bounce off my understandings (or lack thereof). When I looked at China in uni, there wasn’t a single student in the class that gave the same interpretation when asked to discuss it. 

Read it here: http://www.murgatroid.com/china.html

Pas de deux for Lovers – Michael Dransfield

This poem is so delicate, so complete. The language seems to have an echo of the Romantics but lacks pretension. It opens and closes strong. I’d take this to a desert island and feel both homesick and awed.  

Read it here: http://www.angelfire.com/me3/jackispage/lit/dransfield.html

I’d Shoot the Man – Gig Ryan

The words in this poem smoulder on the page. I first read it in a high school literature class and asked the teacher if we could study it. I was fascinated by the use of repetition and the honesty, the ‘lived’ nature of the narrative, and by the way gender was challenged in it. This really showed me that poetry could accomplish much.

Read it here: http://www.austlit.com/a/ryan-gig/doa.html

Clear – Viggo Mortensen

Someone at uni showed me Clear. I read it alone, and when I finished I actually said ‘wow.’ Doesn’t sound like a big deal, but when I thought about this I went back over a lot of work I’d read, and tried to recall what my initial reactions had been. There are very few poems that made me express my appreciation verbally, especially when there was no-one around to discuss it with.

Tyrannus Nix? – Lawrence Ferlinghetti

Although I don’t have what it takes to write good social commentaries, I would keep this on the desert island so I had something to aspire to. If I could be as insightful, cutting and energised as this, I would be pretty pleased. Tyrannus Nix? is impressive too, in the way it reclaims the oral nature of poetry – the poem is written like a letter (or a speech) directly to Nixon, but it’s an open letter for anyone reading it (not just America) and does something to thrust poetry into a public sphere. The poem operates in a political fashion and it’s so effective for it.

This is Just to Say – William Carlos Williams

Simplicity often strikes me – that and openness or accessibility. The purpose of language is to communicate, so I don’t always enjoy a writer attempting to communicate, then clouding meaning by making language opaque. (It could be argued that China is too opaque) I would take This is Just to Say as a reminder for myself, to remain open when I write.

Read it here: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15535

Edge – Sylvia Plath

Revisiting some of the poems I first read in high school to see which ones I still re-read, I remembered Edge. It seems to be one of her most restrained/resigned (language wise) yet evocative poems, especially in regards to the images and the way they’re linked to thoughts and biography.

Read it here: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/edge/

Watermelons – Charles Simic

In this poem the everyday becomes poetic – as is often the case in the hands of great writers. A clear and resonant image, the poem always makes me smile. And because it bears some similarities to haiku, I thought I would take this to a desert island in one folder, in case I wasn’t allowed to take a separate folder of 10 desert island haiku.

Read it here: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15260

Ashley Capes co-edits www.holland1945.net.au and recently completed studies in Arts and Education at Monash. His work has appeared in a range of Australian print and online publications and his first collection of poetry pollen and the storm was published with the assistance of Small Change Press in 2008.  

Find out more about Ashley and his work at:
 
http://www.mascarapoetry.com
http://www.styluspoetryjournal.com/main/master.asp?id=830
http://bluepepper.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-poetry-by-ashley-capes.html

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