I'm thrilled to announce that Walleah Press will be publishing my third book, Incandescence, later this year or early next. It's a 12-years-in-the-making poetry collection about people and all their wonderful, messy, painful and joyous complexities. The poems illuminate parenting, relationships, poverty, illness and ways we cope, like yoga, writing, nature connection.
Fifteen of the poems have been previously published across ten journals and anthologies. One poem from the manuscript won the FAW Tasmania Poetry Prize 2023 and a further four poems were commended in competitions.
In other news, my previous two books, Undertow and Dancing with Empty Prams, are now both available on Kindle as eBooks.
Undertow is only $8.99 and is available here and Dancing with Empty Prams is a bargain for $9.99 and available here.
Both books are still available through the link on my home page or via the tab "Buy my books". There's a secure PayPal function and I have plenty of stock I can pop in the mail to you. Maybe I'm old-fashioned, but I think nothing beats a paper copy of a book.
And just for a little taster, this poem will be in my third
book, Incandescence. It was also included in the Anthology "The
World According to Us" the 2023 Anthology by FAW Northwest Writers
Tasmania.
Every olive counts
New Harbour, Tasmania
The wind flings my flatbread off my lap,
two olives land in the sand.
I am instructed to pick them up, wash them off.
The departing tide arranges
thousands of translucent blue bodies
and long, opaque tails on the sand.
A bluebottle invasion
shrivelling in the sun.
We skinny-dip in the creek’s
thwarted mouth.
Breaststroke around in the metre-deep fresh water
backed up behind the beach.
The top two centimetres, warmed by the sun.
Below that
very refreshing.
Paddle around, goose-bumped,
gazing at seagulls, eucalypts, clouds.
Drying off, we anticipate
a slightly less smelly night in the tent.
I am chastised
for snacking on lunch crackers
before bed.
This is the wild South-West.
Skies menace grey clouds,
cold wind whips into our bones
as we sit on the ground, puffed up
in down jackets, fleece beanies,
long pants and thick socks,
wondering where summer’s gone.
First
day falling
in
this strange office
where
half a tap offers boiling water and the other half chilled
she
tries to smile and read name badges
with
an imperceptible downward flick of her eyes
new
colleagues bear gossip in their arms like kindling
she
wants to light a fire to warm her nervous bones
instead
she plies the levers on her chair
struggles
for equilibrium
she
logs in, opens her calendar – blank and questioning
slots
pens and paperclips into a plastic caddy
slips
away to the bathroom … scares herself in the mirror
with
an expression like being lost in snow
or
gazing into the sky at night to find God
but
only managing to spot a falling star
Here is a poem from Undertow:
Veteran
The sunken couch cradles him.
He grips the remote
(friend).
The baby,
the pot plant,
her gloss lipstick
all study him.
Doctors riddle him with diagnoses
but it is war
that goes on interviewing him each night.
He asks alcohol to counsel him
but all each bottle does
is prescribe another.
And just to even it out, here are two poems from Dancing with Empty Prams:
Pudgy legs
Have you ever noticed
how many cute babies there are
in airports?
As we wait at our gate,
I watch the ones around me.
A toddler in the row facing me
wears a mock miniskirt
attached to a blue stripy top.
The outfit hovers above pudgy legs.
She stands, wobbling, on the seat,
grips the backrest,
gurgles back at the adoring adults.
On the plane
I chew envy-salted peanuts.
I even long to be
the parent
wrestling
the
screaming baby
up the back.
Smile formation
At the end of every day,
a needle.
Before bed –
the routine jabbing, stabbing.
It seems like half a year of needles
but it’s only been two months.
Seventeen per month.
Secret red pinpricks decorate
my belly, below my navel,
in a smile formation.
This is where a little extra fat is an advantage.
An indisputable excuse for Burger Rings.
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