Category: Issue Four

  • On making the Three Decades

    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                                                              …

  • A Third of Myself

    A Third of Myself

    By Edward Hodge   The ghost gums swayed in the raggedy wind and rustle, rustle, rustle went their pompom skirts. Bark like bones. Bleached beneath the dusk.

  • Naami and the Bees

    Naami and the Bees

    By Edward Hodge   Naami was an old woman now. She was as small as a girl and her hair was like snow.

  • Dejavu

    Dejavu

    By Nikole Eugeniou  Mostly, Papou wins at cards. Although after every game, he’ll say that I won. I visit when I can, which is less often these days. Every time I visit we play cards. We play rami-gin and Bastra; which I just call ‘the jacks game’. Occasionally, Blackjack. Sometimes we’ll do Sudoku together. All of…

  • Daphne

    Daphne

    By Rachel Flynn Helen put both hands on the blue Grafio notebook with its subtitle, made for tomorrow’s outstanding achievers. Jeff had bought it for her at the newsagent down the street while he’d selected that Saturday’s winning lotto numbers.

  • Ode to Darwin

    Ode to Darwin

    By Sean O’Leary

  • One in the Coven

    One in the Coven

    By Samantha Byres   ‘How old was she?’ ‘Twenty, twenty-one… thereabouts. She came here when she was twenty-five.’

  • Creatures of the Forest

    Creatures of the Forest

    By Michael Stracke Darkness surrounds you. You can’t remember how you got here, or even where ‘here’ is. A soft glow appears before you. Silver light begins to form and suddenly you are joined in the darkness by a spectre of sorts. A well-dressed man with a long winding moustache and a friendly grin floats…

  • Transparent

    Transparent

    By Maggie Smith   The girl wonders: If she held a lantern before the woman until she went   transparent enough to read through, would she see the child inside  

  • By Sunk Island

    By Sunk Island

    By Eleanor Hooker   (A keen boatwoman and volunteer lifeboat helm, Eleanor wrote this poem following news of an eerie radio transmission from Saturn picked up by NASA – listen here: https://www.nasa.gov/wav/123163main_cas-skr1-112203.wav)   We cut the engine and drop anchor by Sunk Island. We lie across the centre thwart to inspect our bowl of sky.…

  • Varanasi haiku sequence

    Varanasi haiku sequence

    By Maeve O’Sullivan   a shirtless man and I bow to each other – ashram entrance

  • Hiraeth

    Hiraeth

    By Nathanael O’Reilly   Sunday afternoon reading Thomas overwhelmed by hiraeth remembering when we went down to the shore young and easy  

  • Domestic Composition

    Domestic Composition

    By Nathanael O’Reilly   Darkened room, ceiling fan spinning, glass of Chilean red half an arm-length away, desktop logically organized,

  • Dead Bug

    Dead Bug

    By Tiana Clark   Ok, I said it.   I was twelve. I was in the backseat of a moving car. I had a crush. I was silent, except for my mouth  

  • A Great Sorrow

    A Great Sorrow

    By Michele Seminara   It’s as if a storm-grey bird has come to roost inside you: gravid and plump, of shifting shape, black clacking beak, wounded accusatory eyes.  

  • Sunday Walk

    Sunday Walk

    By Michele Seminara   The daughter’s ball-hands bobble from her black coat sleeves. Her hair sprouts dark roots morphing to red then cheapening to yellow. The underbelly rises ruthlessly out of her jeans.  

  • Crust

    Crust

    By Lorne Johnson   I wandered by malt whisky paddocks, where Belted Galloways whispered words   of reassurance to the Earth, until I found a grassy seat between tangled honeysuckle  

  • Volta

    Volta

    By Tess Barry   Sweet daybreak comes again a warming hand across the width of autumn.

  • Fuschia

    Fuschia

    By Kenneth Pobo   I tell few about Dun Dunt, my invisible friend.  He’s fine with that, says being a secret makes him a man  

  • This Sunburnt Country [After Dorothea]

    By Rachel Flynn   We fly across our country, a patchwork knit from skeins, of ragged mountain ranges and endless sweeping plains. We gaze her far horizons, and swim her emerald sea. Those misty sapphire mountains, that wide blue sky for me.