29 sec 
Issue Four & Poetry

On making the Three Decades

To commemorate the Official State Visit to Australia 2017 by Michael D. Higgins, President of Ireland, we are deeply honoured and grateful to reproduce the following poem, written by President Higgins, with his kind permission:


On making the Three Decades


                                             for Alice Mary


By Michael D. Higgins, President of Ireland


Time will never make a boundary that could contain,

nor space enclose,

those moments you turned to gold

with a light that will always be your own.


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18 sec 
Issue Four & Poetry


By Geoff Budden

(July, 2005)


Summer school; after school; help from his patient mother;

but his stammering tongue still betrayed him in class.

School books ill-fit his hands; another bother.

Grade Ten was the last one he passed

But hammers, planes, plank; these he understood.

“Measure twice, cut once”; confidence and certainty.

He was articulate with saws, numerate with wood.

A man sought out for finish carpentry.


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Issue Three & Poetry

On a wing and a prayer – by Anne Casey

Tiny star twinkling in the mid-morning sun

Minute emissary

Expelled from clustered time

Set adrift to witness the callistemon calyx

Wither and die

So close to fertile ground


Parachuting past the brush turkeys

Scruffling and scrounging

Irresistible instinct pressing them

Into early spring service

Beneath the branches where a

Gaggle of galahs cackle and gorge


Indifferent to their albino cousin’s difference

His anaemic peculiarity obscured

By whatever kinship lies within

Drifting in the neverspace

Solitary voyager

Cast out of cosy consort


Past the pair of kookaburras

Silently surveying their domain

Resolutely unperturbed by the

Noisy miners with their bombing raids

Archly arrowed

Determined to harangue


Yearning for the warm earth

To be swallowed up shallowly

Thirsting for the bright, soft rain

To swell and burst you

Into a new magnificence

To rise in glorious reflection


And adorn the morning

With your golden crown

Tiny star

Floating on a spring breeze

Aching to arrive

To be reborn


Adrift alone

20 sec 
Issue Two & Poetry


By Kainat Azhar

I am in love with a dead sage who is an epitome of death

and the painter of hell. He puts his fangs in my neck,

I experience a new world unfolding itself in front of

my eyes: tigers and wolves dance alike on an old symphony

of a vanished civilization, blood drips on the trees, angels die

and we make costumes of threaded time for their burial.

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