On the rocky coast
Sharing love of place
Of sea of whales of trees
Holding it close
Remembrance
On the rocky coast
Whale excitement
Shared with strangers
Spreading love
Expanded possibility
On the rocky coast
Tag: poetry
Escape
Let me sit
for awhile
and see if I feel better
Alienated by anti-poetic words
Symposium presentations
deadening of affect
My mind engorged by a headache
My limbs growing numb
I hurry out of the room
grab a sugary treat
to sit outside
in the sun
Building walls covered by harsh
techno renderings
of the beauty
of Sidney Nolan paintings
Walls coloured
a blue not of the sky
a blue with more green
than the piercing sky blue above
The walls asymmetric pattern
Yellow tiles in a ragged diagonal
small black square tiles
interspersed randomly
with colourized tiles
The sun on my back
Renewing
I cannot return
to the symposium
Dead words
causing bodily pain
Back inside the gallery
to briefly re-absorb
Sidney Nolan’s paintings
Then going out to catch
the Rapid 6 bus
taking me home
Two Novels by a Poet
I urge myself to write after days in a daze due to a head cold the aftermath to sitting in a tent for hours at the Majors Creek Festival (a tiny historic gold mining town, 301 km south of Sydney and 16 km south of Braidwood in New South Wales, Australia), listening to Emily Rose and the Wild Things (high energy) followed by Great Aunt, a folk duo on guitar and bass (quiet competency).
I have lost the plot. What did I want to say about Kei Miller’s two novels? See my blog https://bettehutchisonsilver.wordpress.com/2019/11/01/you-never-know/ about meeting Kei Miller, the poet. Inspired, after meeting Kei Miller at the Poetry on the Move festival in Canberra, I found two of his novels at the local public library: The Last Warner Woman and Augustown The title of The Last Warner Woman confused me. When I see the word “Warner”, I immediately think of two brand names: Warners bras and Warner Brothers, a film production company.These are brands I grew up with in the USA. I have never consciously thought of either one - perhaps in my entire life (although I have seen the WB logo of Warner Brothers in movie credits). I have never bought a Warners bra. So I wondered why a writer from Jamaica would write about Warners bras or Warner Brothers? The cover of the book did not relate to the Warner brands. Think about it. Shocking that a word “warner” became embedded in my mind with two brands. The power of advertising that changes the lens through which we understand words. Warner… means a person who warns… that is, a seer or prophetess. A warner is someone who can “see” what is going to happen and then warn people.This book is as beautiful as the cover. The writing is so evocative that I had to read it carefully - word by word - the way I usually read poetry. I often speed read novels. Satisfied with understanding the main story line, following the principal characters and immersing myself in the story without carefully reading each word. Not possible to speed read The Last Warner Woman. And then Augustown
Augustown started slower for me. Something ominous surrounded the people in the novel. Something was going to happen. I read the novel with anxiety. At one point I put it aside. I didn’t want to know what was going to happen next. Both books are based on Jamaican history and folk lore. After reading Augustown, I looked up “Bedward“ and found the following: “Between 1891 and 1921, Alexander Bedward, an African-Jamaican healer, led the Jamaica Baptist Free Church in August Town, Jamaica, on the Hope River. . . In the 1930s, Bedwardites and Garveyites transformed Bedward's millenarianism into the more antiestablishment and durable Rastafarian movement…” https://www.encyclopedia.com/history/historians-and-chronicles/historians-miscellaneous-biographies/alexander-bedward Enjoy!
Poetry finds the way
Although I had to ditch Life Expectancy, the title I had chosen for the novel about my father because it was the title of a book by best-selling author Dean Koontz, I did find a title for my blog: Family and Fiction
For the blog, I decided not to use the title of the book. The blog is about the book and more… about investigation, research, reading, writing, rewriting, soul searching, self-doubt related to the book and beyond.
Discouraged about not finding a title for the book, I put it aside. Better not to think about it. Concentrate on issues at hand – an open house party for a visitor from Venezuela, helping my older son and his spouse to move from Nairobi, Kenya to Canberra, Australia, activism on climate change and for human rights for asylum seekers.
The book and the title were shoved out of sight, out of mind. Neglected, yet festering in the background, telling myself I should do it. I should continue. It had to be done. But I ignored those interior voices and kept myself busy with everyday life.
Until…Poetry finds the way.
I attended a panel at the poetry festival, Poetry on the Move, in Canberra. I brought with me a blank journal with illustrations by Ebenezer Edward Gostelow (1866-1944) that I had purchased at the National Library of Australia. I’m a sucker for buying beautiful journals as gifts. But not for myself. Easy to write on the computer when you can change it anytime but in a journal? More thought and better handwriting required.
A side journey:
Ebenezer Edward Gostelow was born in Sydney Australia in 1866. From 1889 he taught in country schools across New South Wales. As a self -taught artist and lover of Australia flora, he livened up 
blackboards in his classroom with captivating chalk drawings of flowers.
My journal is livened up with a drawing of a banksia on the front cover (photo) And on the inside with 10 full-page color illustrations as well as small sketches of flowering plants that pop up when least expected.
Back to the poetry festival:
While waiting for the poets to begin a panel discussion, I sat down in the front row and read previous entries in my Australian flora decorated journal. I found quotes copied from books I had been reading, including Land Fall, a poem by Clive James and several quotes from Tim Winton, Island Home. Then a quote from a poem by Gary Snyder, Rip Rap and Cold Mountain Poems:
“Tracking the human future of intelligence and despair.”
That was it. One sentence that says what I’m trying to do in the book I’m writing.
The title found me: Tracking the Human, with a subtitle from a poem by Kenneth Patchen, Nobody’s a long time.
I’m on the road again… to writing, blogging, publishing….
How did you find the title for your book, short story or poem?
Your comments are welcome. Thank you!
I’m on the road again… to writing, blogging, publishing….
Word Count: 456
Keywords: Poetry, Poetry on the Move, Canberra, Ebenezer Edward Gostelow, National Library of Australia, Banksia, Australian flora, Clive James, Tim Winton, Gary Snyder, Kenneth Patchen, Tracking the Human, Nobody’s a long time, title
Unseen people
At the Gallery
Paintings by Kate Stevens: Scenes from an Afternoon
Gorham Art Centre Canberra, Australia
Sweeping landscapes
on small canvases
Heavy oil paint
applied in thick daubs
Foreground mauve
purplish colour
Distance implied by
yellow fields
massed green trees
Big sky
light light blue
Just when I’m getting bored
seeing similar landscapes
the same colours
over and over again
I step away
and am captured
Australian pastoral landscapes
not my favourite
and yet the
sweep
space
colours of
rippling land
low rising hills
attract
Quietly appealing
limited colour palette
mauve
yellow
dark grey green
light blue sky
hint of fencing
daubs of black
cows with white face
Inhabited land
controlled by unseen people
