Australian Poetry Library

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michael dransfield

Michael Dransfield

Michael Dransfield was born in Sydney on 12 September more



  • E. J. Brady

    Edwin James Brady was born on 7 August 1869 at Carcoar, near Bathurst, New South ... more
  • Dorothy Porter 2008, portrait by Juno Gemes©

    Dorothy Porter

    Dorothy Porter was born in Sydney on 26 March 1954. She attended Queenwood School for ... more
  • Roberta ("Bobbi") Sykes, photo courtesy University of Queensland Press

    Roberta Sykes

    Roberta ‘Bobbi’ Sykes was born about 1944 in Townsville, Queensland. Raised by a white mother, ... more
  • Ada Cambridge

    Ada Cambridge was born on 21 November 1844 in Norfolk, England, the daughter of a ... more


Interview: Pam Brown, January-March 2014

Why do you write poetry? That really is a tough question. I doubt that I'll give you a very interesting answer -   I can only sound glib. For me writing poetry might be a habit, or a disorganised ritual.   I've done it all my life, since around the age of seven - I started with lists. It's partly a way of notating my thinking. I suppose it's also a kind of irreligious vocation - one with hardly a skerrick of remuneration. How do you read? Diversely, but very consciously. I usually have three or four things that I'm ... review


1. [After dark the lamposts wear different expressions] by Thomas W. Shapcott

After dark the lamposts wear different expressions.
It is easy to stumble, and it is quite possible that potholes
can be moved into position, almost as you put
your feet down. Do not be disconcerted at this, but
when the three angels of Fumble, Shuffle and Drunk
attempt to lift you up again, pass your hand three
times before the place where the pothole had been
and touch them on the forehead with it. If there is
water, or even mud, in the pothole, use that also.
... more

VIII [Timid and hot-tempered] by Vincent Buckley

Timid and hot-tempered
all his years in South Brunswick
my uncle swaggered like a rentier,
never got to know
the city too carnal for him.
In forty years my aunt had never seen him
wholly undressed. He brushed his foxy hair
sideways on his skull, walked
from the knees, with a camel's lope,
... more