bentenlaughing

Cogito ergo sum: I think therefore I am I think about everything now The time is moist and ripe I cogitate, I speculate, My mind is in full flight. I wonder about systems, Thoughts of structures plague me too, I imagine that colour sequences Almost always start with blue. I visualise mathematics, Long sequences of noughts and zeros, I cannot for the life of me Work out why billionaires are heroes. My Latin’s coming back to me In fragments from the past Catullus, Horace, Virgil, I’m sure you must have asked About ‘cogito ergo sum’ Was it meaningful to me? I answer with the basics, Conjugating sets me free. I think about everything now I fail to understand Why meme-makers cannot spell, Why grammar’s out of hand. I think about everything now About trivial details Why adverbs have gone missing How compound nouns have failed. I think about everything now I love ancient books and men I re-read old lover’s poetry That’s hidden in my den. I think about everything now The best is most obscure L...

  Janice:  Kathryn, I've just completed reading your Metamorphosis Poems 1980 - 2020.  With poetry, I'll often skip one or two, and land where I  can give my whole, but I found with your poems that each spoke to me very directly. I wanted to spend time sinking into the varied worlds you were exploring. I chose to read a poem a day thus I have decided to choose just one poem to focus my questions on.   Your title 'In the heat' reached not only out but surrounded me.  'In the heat' appears to be born out of suburbia, as well as a more urban landscape, and the edges of elsewhere...can you expand on its themes for us... Kathryn: 'In the heat' was written in 1989 when I had moved to St Mary's in the outer western suburbs of Sydney. It was one in a series of poems I wrote at that time. St Marys was an alien landscape to me. I had previously lived close to the city of Sydney. The poem is the expression of the profound dislocation I felt at that time, as wel...

                                                              He stood using the furniture like scaffold.                               There’d been a number of attempts before.  Each one building his strength and confidence.  This time would be different, though.  It was his moment.  He looked up ensuring his audience.  Then, let go.  His little feet reconnected with the floorboards.  Their arrhythmic steps catching him by surprise.  Plod, splat, plod.  Cheers erupted in the background.  His face softened to a smile.  Wobbling took over as time slowed.  There was a pointless attempt to rebalance.  Knees buckled. Thud.  He’d almost made it across t...

  THE EMBRACE   “you have to love them" I tell her "It's your only defence"   she is puzzled at first, then memory blooms as it will when a storm has passed   recognition rainbows in her hazel eyes there is a clue of eagerness on the map   her indelicate history delicately etched sweats like glass in the palm she offers   pressing gently enough to shatter worlds     EVERYDAY MASTERPIECE enthroned on their cool verandah the old ones connoisseurs of light and shade resolve all problems of proportion each fragile gesture a brush-stroke in a self-portrait nearing completion John Ellison Davies  © 2023 https://www.australianbookreview.com.au/poetry/states-of-poetry-2017/states-of-poetry-tasmania/author/1946-johnellisondavies

Jenna Yates is a journalist, wife and mother living in Adelaide, South Australia.  She enjoys writing about her parenting experiences and the highs and lows of motherhood.

  THE SPHINX AT YOUR DOOR   at this pebbled frontier   steps a lame man   singing heads I win   tails I win   free of the leaping herd's   nostalgia for the precipice   lost   in the dusty interval   between the bubble sun   and bubble moon   (those liars)   all that is outside   him torrents in him   but he sings   I am a porous man   heads I win   tails I win Lake George near Canberra MUST IT BE SO?   it must be so   as the gathering storm impartial   holds its breath   each raindrop mirrors earth, ocean, mountains   trembles lovingly   and begins its fall   this is the law   allow only joy John Ellison Davies https://sites.google.com/site/johnellisondavies/home https://www.australianbookreview.com.au/abr-online/archive/2006/author/1946-johnellisondavies

Responsibilities poets rise early (don’t laugh) aware of their responsibilities to save some people from themselves to save language itself from the same people to remind you we live in a land too old for petty thoughts John Ellison Davies https://sites.google.com/site/johnellisondavies/home