Readings from Undertow 22 Oct 09

I was priveleged to be guest speaker last night at a set of readings from Undertow, the University of Canberra student creative writing anthology for 2009.

The venue was Smith’s Alternative Bookshop (no relation ) and the event went very well.  There was wine, sushi, wonderful music from Cathy Petocz and of course engaging performances from the half a dozen students who read their work.

I recommend giving Undertow a read, the standard is very high and there are several pieces I cannot get out of my mind.  The 29 short stoires and poems were chosen from almost 200 submissions so it really is the cream of the crop.  Check out the Facebook page for Undertow, or buy your copy at Smith’s Alternative Bookshop or the Co-op Bookshop.

For the record, my part in proceedings was limited to words of encouragement and ‘tips for young players’.  It felt quite strange to be cast in the ‘elder stateswoman’ role for a change but I suppose my prematurely grey hair does give me some cred in that department    Anyway, a fine time was had by all, and do check out Undertow if you get the chance.

Cheers

Melinda

Latest News

Hi there, long time no blog!

Thanks to everyone who came to the packed-out Gods reading in August! By all accounts the punters were well entertained – and some of the drunker ones swore blind they’d been converted to genuine fans by the experience

I have had a few poems published or accepted for publication recently.  One of these is Falling, published in Blue Dog a couple of months ago and posted separately.  I also have four upcoming in Quadrant (probably the November or December-January issue) – I will post these when Quadrant hits the stands.

In other news, my poem Mother Love has found another new fan and will be published soon on the PoemPig blog.

Falling

A brown and slimy autumn leaf
was mashed into the floor.  I said
‘Who didn’t wipe their feet?’, and spread
the shopping bags around it. Grief

was hiding in the food again:
the pumpkin, the bananas too
brought me to tears. That’s nothing new:
last week it was the multi-grain.

My flailing mind begins to thresh
its blighted no-hope harvest. May
this season end. I need to say
when planting can begin afresh.

published in Blue Dog (poetry magazine of the Australian Poetry Centre), July 2009

I’m reading this Tuesday – come one come all

Reading this Tuesday

Where: The Gods Cafe, ANU Campus, Acton ACT

When:  Tue 11 August from 8pm (dinner available from 6.30pm)

Cover charge: $5 (dinner extra)

Extra info:   I am reading on a triple bill with P.S. Cottier and my dear friend Suzanne Edgar. Suzanne and I will be doing a bit of a ‘duelling banjos’ thing, reading poems back and forth with each other on similar themes. We figure we could keep people awake a bit longer that way. Should be fun – would love to see you there.

Mt Majura Wines Reading 12 July

I read in the barrel room at Mt Majura Wines last month, on a quadruple bill with Michael Byrne, Elizabeth Lawson and S.K. Kelen.  A fine time was had by all.  I did mostly funny ones – you can’t expect Sunday afternoon listeners who’ve been tasting excellent wine to wade through anything too heavy   At least one punter enjoyed it so much she blogged about it: http://sandsmackenzie.blogspot.com/2009_07_01_archive.html

Hot continent

‘The weather comes from Adelaide’, they say.
I thank them for the forty-one degrees
they kindly sent to stifle us today.
The grey lawns thank them also. And the trees.
So many nicer things they could have sent -
an Oval, or a Festival; some Hills.
I’m sure the oven-blast was kindly meant
but eggs were frying on our window sills.
The Bureau tells us to expect a change
and, tongues lolled out like dogs, we pant and wait
and fixate on the temperature range
for points far west of where we dehydrate:
if Adelaide today had twenty-three
please God (please, God!), tomorrow so will we.

published in The Canberra Times, March 2009

Autistic Acrostic

Any day now, it will lift.
Under your mask of howls, I see
Two knowing eyes reproaching me,
Incensed that I should try to shift
Some blame, for this, our hell, to you.
Mummy feels like howling too.

Published in Quadrant, Volume LIII, No.4, April 2009

Winter readings

I’ll be doing a couple of readings during the long Canberra winter.  Why not come along when you get sick of hibernating?  Both venues serve wine, and at least one also serves hot chocolate…

Please note the change of date and time for the ‘Poetry in the Vines’ reading.

• ‘Poetry in the Vines’ at Mount Majura Wines, Majura Rd, ACT.   2pm Sunday July12 2009 [POSTPONED FROM ORIGINAL DATE OF JUNE 14]
• ‘Poetry at the Gods’ at The Gods Cafe, Australian National University, Acton, ACT.   8pm Tuesday August 11 2009

Mother Love

Wave after wave, the ocean counts the cost
by piling sheets of water on the sand.
I dreamt before your birth that you were lost.
I think I have begun to understand.

By piling sheets of water on the sand
the sea offers its body, slice by slice.
I think I have begun to understand.
I love you knowing sorrow is the price.

The sea offers its body, slice by slice,
heaving itself onto an empty beach.
I love you knowing sorrow is the price.
I start a task whose end I’ll never reach.

Heaving itself onto an empty beach,
the sea still finds the energy to give.
I start a task whose end I’ll never reach.
I give you life, not knowing how you’ll live.

The sea still finds the energy to give.
I dreamt before your birth that you were lost.
I give you life, not knowing how you’ll live.
Wave after wave, the ocean counts the cost.

from Mapless in Underland, Ginninderra Press, 2004

No Bed

When love is on the wrong side of the sheets
romance must give way to expedience
and, short of coupling in the public streets,
all places serve at love’s convenience.
Beside stormwater drains; in fields of wheat;
in lifts; against a sturdy paling fence:
all fifteen-minute feather beds for cheats.
At best: the boardroom table; worst: the gents.
Yet all this grubby fumbling in the dark
does add a certain spice to things, and while
the rusting old rotunda in the park
may bruise and chafe, it has some outlaw style
- and with no place to spoon after the buzz
we can’t pretend it means more than it does.

Published in Quadrant July-August 2006 – Volume L Number 7-8, and in Best Australian Poems 2005 (Black Inc, 2005), edited by Les Murray.

Given

Christmas is in the air.
You are given into my hands
out of the quietest, loneliest lands.
My trembling is all my prayer.

“Five Days Old” – Francis Webb

Given

Poolside baby showers
herald the summer pregnancies.
Sweat caresses swollen knees;
mothers tally labour hours;
giftwrap is everywhere.
Christmas is in the air.

But by the time you come
first frost has been and gone.
A long walk brings you on.
I howl ten hours, a dumb
animal shocked at pain’s demands.
You are given into my hands:

all downy with the smell
of love, my warm wise frog.
Then: eight months of the black dog.
I crawl back from cold hell
that no one understands
out of the quietest, loneliest lands.

Now you seem newly-made
or is it me, new-born?
Chill fog melts in the dawn
and now I am afraid
of how much I can care.
My trembling is all my prayer.

‘Given’ won the 2006 David Campbell Prize for best unpublished poem by an ACT poet. It was also shortlisted for the Rosemary Dobson Prize for best unpublished poem by an Australian poet. It was later published in Swings and Roundabouts (anthology by Random House NZ, May 2008). Lines from ‘Five Days Old’ quoted by permission from HarperCollins.