Julie Mehretu (A transcore of the Radical Imaginatory) The Experience by Colleen Keating

Picture above  – The New Dawn

Julie Mehretu

(A transcore of the Radical Imaginatory)

Images crowd our minds, thoughts scramble . . .
This overload of information you use multilayered 
to blot out story, our words, thoughts, judgement  . . .
we are left with the blur  . . .sweeping lines, 
shapes,  stencils, that disrupt and interweave 
within the frame

Where is space 
in this world for the soul?

Shadows mingle on the hanging canvass
each viewer a presence, smudged, smothered,
each of us shading the overlay.  
Image after image is transformed – 
morphs into the abstract

Where is space 
in this world for the soul to roam?.

Images crowd in to be our burden – Californian fires, 
flames, firestorm, Grenfell Tower torching sky- 
humans, ethnic cleansing, Rohingya conflict,
trail of black ash, the Burning Bush  that consumes.
Image after image 

Where is space 
in this world for the soul to be free?.

You overlay, overlay to transform. 
Blurred towards abstraction. Each physical event 
experienced and now you remind us this is not us , 
this is not our world. Even as I step close 
in search of a bird, a feather, even wisp of a wing 

Where is space 
in this world for the soul to fly?  

                                                                                                                                               
Before the canvass titled New Dawn I weep.
Darkening, with pace of time, race for information 
what do we know? What have we done? 
Our tiny ones have only a small place 
of gold horizon to be born and spread their wings.

Where is space  
in in this crowded noisy shattered world? 

Is it you who give us the space within, no words 
of containment, no pidgin-holing of our being, no longer
reduced to body, skin, national identity
rather a trajectory for a more complex way
to imagine a better world.  In this motion 
are we on the verge of collapse or the brink of transition?

A space where our soul 
can breathe and love again. 



There are myriad positive and negative aspects to the world we are living in.
It’s overwhelming.  . .the accelerated pace of information can feel difficult to negotiate.
I am deeply committed to the language of abstraction as a place to negotiate
these complexieites and contradictions from a nuanced and subjective place
– Julie Mehretu

 

The Magritte Experience by Colleen Keating

René Magritte

There is more than what one knows’  M.

Memories are water, deep, brooding and primal
with eyes closed, seeing  another way

who knows 
who

 The crow perches 
 holds the question

The thought is the image – apple thought, cloud,   grey 
everyman  
brush – paints ideas  . . . reality is senseless 
as is god  

Time folds into itself 
it is all here,   from eternity,  forever  

Familiar is no longer 
as  pipe is not  pipe

the bird perched on top of the cage 
still the question

The dove of the sky  holds the clouds 
with hundreds of other I gaze at gazing

no word . . .  no

My daughter, laid low with a broken ankle 
asks to live vicariously through me 

and seeing it through her eyes is seeing it twice 
doubley asking the question

 

         

Magritte’s trademark images of clouds, seascapes, bowler-hatted men,  pipes, apples. 
Some complained theat his work is anti -painting  – cultivated for its unreality and strangeness.

Surrealist painter and provocateur René Magritte  created some of the  most memorable images of the 20th century.
In a way with his slanted way of seeing he reveals the mystery and poetry embedded within seemingly
ordinary objects and everyday settings.

But will you wake for pity’s sake ! Hope for 2025 Colleen Keating

FOR 2025

A Sleep of Prisoners — Christopher Fry

The call to awake is one that I relate to.

A SLEEP OF PRISONERS

Dark and cold we may be, but this

Is no winter now. The frozen misery

Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;

The thunder is the thunder of the floes,

The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.

Thank God our time is now when wrong

Comes up to face us everywhere,

Never to leave us till we take

The longest stride of soul we ever took.

Affairs are now soul size.

The enterprise

Is exploration into God.

Where are you making for? It takes

So many thousand years to wake,

But will you wake for pity’s sake!

-Christopher Fry

A Little Book of Japanese Contentments by Erin Nimi Longhurst

 

A wonderful find on the last day of 2024.

Some reminders on the  cultural wisdom and practices in achieving

a balanced, peaceful, and fulfilling life.  This is a valuable beginning for 2025.

“A Little Book of Japanese Contentments: Ikigai, Forest Bathing, Wabi-sabi, and More” by “Erin Nimi Longhurst” is an insightful exploration of Japanese concepts that promote well-being and a fulfilling life. The book delves into various traditions and philosophies, such as”*ikigai” (a reason for being), “forest bathing” (immersing oneself in nature), and “wabi-sabi” (appreciating beauty in imperfection). Longhurst blends cultural insights with practical advice, encouraging readers to incorporate these principles into their daily lives to cultivate a sense of peace, contentment, and connection to the world around them.

10 Lessons from “A Little Book of Japanese Contentments”

1. Discover Your Ikigai:
Identify your passion, mission, vocation, and profession to find your unique reason for being that brings joy and fulfillment.

2. Engage in Forest Bathing:
Spend time in nature to reduce stress and enhance mental clarity, allowing the natural world to replenish your spirit.

3. Embrace Wabi-sabi:
Appreciate the beauty of imperfection and transience, recognizing that flaws can add character and depth to life.

4. Practice Mindfulness:
Cultivate present-moment awareness through meditation or simple daily rituals, fostering a deeper connection to your experiences.

5. Nurture Simplicity:
Simplify your life by decluttering both your physical space and mental load, allowing for greater tranquility and focus on what truly matters.

6. Prioritize Relationships:
Invest time in building and maintaining meaningful connections with family and friends, as social bonds contribute significantly to happiness.

7. Celebrate Small Joys:
Find contentment in everyday moments, recognizing that joy can be found in simple pleasures and routine activities.

8. Adopt a Growth Mindset:
Embrace challenges as opportunities for growth and learning, fostering resilience and a positive outlook on life.

9. Connect with Tradition:
Explore Japanese cultural practices and rituals that promote well-being, integrating them into your own life for a sense of grounding.

10. Be Grateful:
Foster an attitude of gratitude by regularly reflecting on the positive aspects of your life, enhancing overall contentment and happiness.

These lessons from “A Little Book of Japanese Contentments” highlight the value of cultural wisdom and practices in achieving a balanced, peaceful, and fulfilling life.

Holiday ramblings, Sonnet style by Colleen Keating December 2024

 

Day 1
Indecision  or turning tide

The ocean is a field. The ocean is windy 
wild, kicking, a two year old in tantrum.
The ocean begins to hiss like fired lard.
Waves swirl, twirl, like a mosh pit
of crowded concert goers. Its white plumes
and spindrift ringing the air . They remind me
of your rumpled hair on rising from the bed
uncertain of the day ahead.

Where is the moon, you ask, to parent
the tide? Turmoil is the nemesis of the mind. 
The mind is a field. The mind is windy, 

wild, turning here, turning there. I cannot
help but wish for a moon-god to marshal
your stirrings, directing their erratic flow.

Colleen Keating

 * * * * * * * * * * * 

Day 2.

 

interconnection

She walks out towards the lake 
precariously like a sleepwalker ambles 
when they don’t really want to face the day.
Thick fog steals the horizon. 
Large pines on the other side misted-in
show a ghostly giant command
peering out like Tolkien’s ents.
Her gaze has the gravitas of other worlds.  

How to feel joy in this time of joy? Hildegard’s 
words grooved like an old LP imprint her mind
i cannot break bread except as i am broken.

In the reeds a visiting spoonbill wades, its wide
beak raking the mud .Two pied stilts swoop at it
over and over with barking noise.

Colleen Keating

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 

Day 3.

Put in our place

The lake is mirrored-calm, still untouched
by morning noise. 
The heat is already building for a summers day.
The visiting spoonbill, not deterred is back.
The black swans silhouetted glide peacefully. 
Plovers are themselves always with a voice
for those who encroach in their territory. 
Under the large pines usually full of roosting 

cormorants all chatting, it is eerily quiet. 
They have flown off for the day. 
Only then do our feet begin to stick to the ground, 
We are are walking like people with lead in their shoes.
We realise they have been busy before they left.  
The result is like a glue, stuck around our sneakers, clotted 
with leaves and dirt.

Colleen Keating

* * * * ** * * * * * * * * 

Day 4.

Pause

An online group I belong to 
ask for a word for 2025. 
All the normal ones light up
like electric bulbs in my head–
gratitude, listen, dream.
I was out walking by the lake
and decided to pause to watch 
a white egret fishes the tidal zone.

Pause. I thought how much more 
it gives me focus. I see its pick-axe
precision and stealthful stepping.  
I see how a caught pilchard wriggles down 
its long neck and I hear wild whispers
of the wind in the swamp oaks 
and to make sense of todays turmoil 
the pause is a purposeful strategy.

Colleen Keating

* * * * * * * * * * * * * 

 

Day 5

Road to Jericho

RIP Michael Leunig  1946 -2024

(Thank you for reminding us of our soul 
and the angels over and over
and  thanks for so often being our conscience. )

it is rough uneven, familiar pot-holes 
no surprise. what shocks more is lack
of safety, the unknown enemy lying low.
So many rustling angels are missed,
Leunig said, in the hurry to get from A to B 
A cry for help would hardly 
be heard over the cicada shrill 
of this hot summers day.

Even as I conduct their bush song 
my hands rise and fall in rhythm 
like the oceans rolling crests and troughs
reaching crescendo of an alleluia chorus 
there are still the troughs and life’s journey
is only as good as staying on the way.

Colleen Keating

While shepherds washed their sock by night
all seated on the ground
the angel of the Lord came down
and no one looked around ML
Just wrote this out till I get a clearer photo of the December calendar.

Our last calendar December cartoon. RIP Michael Leunig and thank –you

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Day 6.

   

Butcher bird  and Magpie enjoying a drink with their  careful nod of thanks.

The Perfect Pact

The bird bath stands in clear view on the terrace
like a set up eco stage for insects to skim, 
wildlife  including the possum passing by 
and birds. We insist like a UN peace treaty
all birds have an equal right and must share
Sharon’s yellow flowered bush adds filtered shade
and a place to perch. the bird bath stands  
like an icon of empathy and sharing.

And it is not one way – we enjoy the whoosh
of wings fanning the air, flamboyant colours
of show off fluttering their feathers and bedazzling us 
the songs they sing in all their varied pitch and tone.
Knowing the pairs now why is it when one is missing 
we feel our own fragility? 

Colleen Keating

* * * * * * * * * * * 

Day 7

 

The dry sandy walk to Karagi Point slows 
like a trek across a desert. At the far edge
the first thing we hear a frenzy of chirps, 
insistent and wild flapping of wings. 
Hundreds of little Terns cloud the sky across
the fenced-in breeding ground.Their flighty 
path of lift-ups and dives with tight turns 
and somersaults more precise than aerogliders. 

Then one darts down to the sand, a dangle 
of food in its beak and the sand comes alive
with beige coloured chicks. 
We stand there mesmerised,
marvelling at the endurance of this migratory
bird. Its tiny heart thrumming against the wind. 

Colleen Keating

 * * * * * * * * * * * 

Bird Talk   on our Normanhurst terrace.

They call me King . Aren’t I gorgeous.?
They don’t seem to mind me perched on their  herbal garden

 

Waiting.   Just playing my cards. Sitting on their clothes line
near their back door means they will see me soo.
I am getting them trained!

We are learning to share here on the terrace.

 

 

 

Two Canticles by Colleen Keating published in Rochford Street Journal Issue 40 2024

Rochford Street Review

Issue 40.  2024:2

   

Two Canticles

At a cottage by the sea I tackle Francis Webb, curious about

his poetry from Cap and Bells. Outside a wild spring ocean’s

curled waves tussle on the tide, comb to the edge, like spoonbills

probing every squint of sand and wrack. The horizon

 

is drawn-in, appropriate for this day in this ruptured world.

The sun finds thin spots to break through clouds, blades the sea

with thousands of stars and as quickly is blocked. In his poems

Francis tools words in obscurity and I must wait for the rare 

 

glimmer to shine through, to touch their thousand stars before

they meld into his shadowed world. With torch and compass

I grope through the labours of Hospital Night and wait in the

dark for the sound of winged ones in the swaddled air of his

 

suite Ward Two. I once met a Benedictine nun who knew 

Francis Webb, as an escapee from Parramatta Mental Hospital.

He knocked at her convent back door. Frail, lost, clutching

a book of poetry. Eyes eminently human, beaconed his ragged

 

struggle. His voice garbled: I am not seeking money or food 

but peace. He scribbled out for her his poem Five Days Old.

Then a lonely, derelict figure slouched out the gate. His words

frisk the heroic-journey, explorers’ struggle, like one who holds

 

a shell, turns it over and over for light, shots of colour, as he

tackles the one-journey common to us all. His poems of 

The Canticle echo another Francis who wrote Il Cantico, 

who praised glimpses of brother sun  and sister moon through

 

tender, frayed clouds, who walked barefoot, high-walled Assisi: 

its olive groves, vineyards, lanes, paths of cobbled stone, 

searching too for peace. Falling on his knees, face in his hands

he humbly made himself its instrument, finding the meaning 

 

only in the search. He threw off worldly garb, gold and plumes

donned a court jester’s cap and bells, reverberating touch of 

birdsong his bedrock. Through a darkling glass are two canticles

hundreds of years apart. Each Francis dances on fear’s altar. Both 

 

be fools, taunted, for gnawing life to the bone. Both seeing beauty

in the tiny not the immense. Outside, flocks of sea gulls skim 

the southerly, skate on the edge. I listen to their skirl on the air, 

wayfarers, like the ocean in its unceasing quest. 

Colleen Keating

Winner of the Phillipa Holland Poetry 2024 with Eastwood/Hills FAW (Fellowship of Australian Writers)

———————————–

Colleen Keating is a Sydney poet. Her writing explores the wonder and paradox of nature with the harsh realities of life, justice, equality and the increasing threat to our natural environment. Her poem, Fifth Symphony was recently awarded Highly commended in the Poetic Christi Press poetry competition and published in the new Anthology A New Day Dawns 2024. Colleen has published six collections of poetry, including two award-winning verse novels, Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey and Olive Muriel Pink: her radical & idealistic life. Her newly published book is The Dinner Party: A poetic reflection. (2023) All are available through Ginninderra Press. Colleen writes on Ku-ring-gai land in Sydney and Darkinjung on the Central Coast NSW.

Also welcomed to be published by Michael Griffith.author of Cap and Bells

Michael Griffith’s Official Literature Site

 

November 7, 2024 at 11:47 am

Hello Colleen, I love this poem! It captures so much of the essence of Francis Webb’s passion and the direction of his own search. In terms of our current poetry sessions – Poetry’s Job- I feel this is a perfect poem for illustrating how poetry here (your poetry and the poetry of the poet you celebrate) give voice to the quest for wholeness in a difficult, tumultous world. Your own beautiful observations of nature carry me back to what we were saying just yesterday about Jane Hirschfield’s recognition that the real source of nourishment for her own search is the immediate:

Can admire with two eyes the mountain

actual, recalcitrant, shuffling its pebbles, sheltering foxes and beetles.

Can make black-eyed peas and collards.

Can make, from last year’s late-ripening persimmons, a pudding.

Thank you Colleen!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

‘Brilliant’ Colleen!   Your writing demonstrates the ache and artistry of Scott Fitzgerald

with your ability to tie the lives of two people together over that vast distance of time. 

I am sure Michael Leunig would have gathered inspiration for one of his works

from your ‘Two Canticles’ if he was still with us. 

Your writing is much deserving of a broader audience.

Congratulations!

Michael Linich  (Dr. Michael Linich Lecturer, Science Education at University of Newcastle NSW. Australia. 

Eucalypt Issue 37 2024 ed. Julie Thorndyke

 

 

Thank you to the editor Julie Thorndyke for an exquisite production of the latest Eucalypt .

I can always feel the love and care in the selection and  placement  of  the tanka on the page

which of cousre enriches each one tanka.

Your work is appreciated. 

I am proud to be included with so many fine Tanka writers and  sensitive work  in this latest issue. 

 

 

     

 the wet sand

of the ebbing tide

reflects a pink dawn

my bare feet encounter

the first touch of spring

Colleen Keating

Thrilled to see Pip Griffin and Dr Andy Hede as two of my Tanka friends included in the latest Eucalypt

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another favourite of my tanka

pink glow

behind silver grey clouds

waiting

medical reports

still to be read

Colleen Keating

 

 

The Launch of the new poetry collection, Natural Light by David Atkinson :

 

Sunday afternoon, 1st December 2024  was a celebratory afternoon for the launch of David Atkinson’s new poetry collection Natural Light . We gathered at Hannah’s Bar in Beecroft. The gathering included family, many friends  and poets from the U3A Poetry Appreciation Group, from the Pennant Hills Poetry Group  and many  other interested poetic friends . As MC i welcomed everyone and introduced  the teacher and poet Richard Clark who launched  Natural Light. In his launching speech, Richard  described some of the  poetic techniques  and read poems to show these.  It was an interesting speech and  he gave some very expressive readings of David’s poetry.  David read some of his poetry and thanked all those who have supported him on his journey.  And then we enjoyed refreshments and had a great chat all together .

 

     

Run Sheet for David’s Natural Light

  1. Good afternoon everyone.      My name is Colleen Keating and i am a poet and a writing friend of David..     Welcome everyone. It is good to be here together  for this celebration . and what a wonderful gathering  we are.    The bringing  forward of a book is a long journey and worth celebrating and  your presence is an honour to David  and to poetry. 
  2. We will just take a moment to gather ourselves and i ‘d like  to acknowledge  the traditional owners of the land on which we meet today , the Wallumedegal people of the Eora nation and pay respects to the first story tellers and  to the elders past, present and emerging.
  1. (a)Housekeeping – there is a bathroom directly across the courtyard but only one there. There are more bathrooms down the stairs and inside the centre or, alternatively, down one level via the lift.  Please just look around and check if anybody needs a seat if you can stand.
  2. (b)Order of events  I will introduce Richard Clarke. who will launch David’s new book . Richard will speak and read a few selected poems of  David’s 
  3. (c)Then David  as poet will speak and share some of his  poems.  At the end of the formal part we will  spread out and wait a few minutes for refreshments to be organised  And we can catch up with friends and celebrate this special occasion . The books will then be on sale for 25 dollars and David will be outside very happy to sign it.  We are all in for a treat. 

3. “It is now my pleasure to introduce Richard Clarke to launch David’s book. Richard says he was fortunate to have been born to literature-loving parents and to have married an avid reader, and since retirement to have been invited by David to join both the U3A poetry appreciation group hosted by Wendy Walker in Eastwood ,of which  many of that group are here today and the poetry writers’ group convened by David himself in Pennant Hills. And most of us are here to celebrate with  David.  Richard was an English teacher for forty years, He enjoyed nothing better than exploring great poems with his classes and imploring the students to write their own.Often in our groups we defer to Richard as he is an encyclopaedia of knowledge on poets, their background history, and grammar in general..  Now that he is writing his own poetry Richard says he is beginning to understand why many of his students found it difficult to turn theory into practice. But Richard powers ahead with his own writing. I remember when he had his first poem published  and we were very excited and  now in a short time his poems have been published in three countries. so we call him now an Internationally published poet.    Please welcome Richard.”

 superb Fairy wrens pg 47

4. Thank you Richard and now please welcome David to tell you about his  poetic journey and read you some of his selected poems.

5. Thank you David . 

6. That concludes the formal part of the afternoon. Please relax now and spread outside and buy a book. It will take  5 minutes  or so  while drinks and afternoon tea are set out.                                                                  

Poems to be read, or referred to, by Richard

Villanelle of the Drought (p.127)

Assembly Machinations (p.53)

Sonnet of the Fire (p.29)

Searching the Storm (p.48)

Adrift in the Desert (p.108)

The Ambivalence of Organisms (p.56)

The Challenge of Algebra (p.69)

Of Owl and Eeyore (p.128)

Poems to be read by David

The Old Hume (p.3)

From Impermanence (p.59)

Wedge-tailed Eagle (p.43)

Verandah (p.9)

The Buoyancy of Butterflies (87)

Review  by Colleen Keating 

    of 

Natural Light by David Atkinson 

With an acute lyrical touch and an unerring ability to evoke sights, sounds and sensations,  David’s poems reveal new depths upon every rereading.” These affirming words by Richard Clark who recently launched ‘Natural Light’, come from an appreciation of the rich use of imagery, and the way in which the poet, speaks to his reading audience . 

This new book is David Atkinson’s third published poetry collection after ‘The Ablation of Time’ (202  and ‘Strands and Ripples’, (202  ) both published by Ginninderra Press.  David grew up in the Riverina  and knowing this  the reader can appreciate more  the way he pays reverent attention to the landscape, the birds, the sheds, tools, country roads and road kill and the Hume’s long distance journey to connect with the city. 

‘Natural Light’ is a striking book, full of remarkable pictures  capturing the human condition and the natural world.  An example of this where memory gives us movement  is from ‘Whipcord’,

Transfixed, we swerve in aversion, wary and watchful,

as the brute, terror of the imagination,

topic of tales, slithers away. 

Piques a flashback to that folio of boyhood fears;

an eastern brown slides through a dream.

The Holden accelerates, the small boy braces,

steeled like a vehicular strut, then the weight 

of the work boot, as breaks squeal

in a controlled skid through the writhing backbone.  

There are poems where David has set himself a task of research of a subject and then works it into a poem.  How he enjoys the challenge of different forms of poetry.  You can see him working out his poetry to put together a collection of his work that shows variety of subject and form and falling back into the things he loves and is most comfortable with. Hence we are gifted with a book of poetry that surprises wherever you open its pages.

The poems are arranged into six sections:   In the first section titled The Scaffold of Time  there are moments of reminiscing. One example of this is on a breathless country night as a child, sleeping on the verandah with his family he remembers,

in the open we are kneaded into nature. 

The night breathes a soft–hued concerto, 

         the wildlife variations.’

and 

Beyond the strands of ringbarked trees

the muted moon rises

and the stars are glow worms

over the riverine flats.

In ‘Bow Wave’  how wonderful to watch the way the poet shifts us from the country’s hard hot days of washing day to pondering a dream Manly holiday with memory of his mother,

In the freestanding washhouse she launders

the clothes, her farmer husband’s khakis,

reek of the shearing shed and the killing tree.

After igniting the copper, boils the garments

and bed linen; the spit of split kindling,

the flames prancing in the grate. 

And  then as reader we feel the cool ocean breeze with her dream

the South Steyne churning its bow wave 

slamming the subservient wharf.

even as

Her neck sallow, not yet seared swarthy

by the sun, she groans, heaves the bedsheets,

feeds them into the clothes wringer,

hand-operated, the water squeezed down

flowing, gurgling into the drain.

This scene is part of my own memory of helping my mother and grandmother but I wonder what the next generation will picture here.  However it is important for it to be remembered. 

In the poem ‘Generations of Ritual’, the imagery shows how the fates have determined the change and similarity in lives with the colourful phases,

The pungency of lucerne hay, 

the prickle of the fleece’s burrs. 

the taste of the moonrise frost

solo star in the top paddock,

 In the section, ‘Unswept Wings’  there are many gems including the prize winning poem ‘Gang Gang’,

When you sweep in, deep wing beats,

you skim along the runaway of azalea blooms.

In an ambience of apricity, I observe

your free flight through the bush reserve; 

I know why this time you alight alone.

I watch your actor’s bow to the water,

curved beak leading to its cere,

eye staring off across your canopied 

territory of eucalypts;

The award-winning poem, ‘Wedge-tailed Eagle 

takes us deeper,

In a rhythm of etiolated recall my spirit

aches for the passing of the years.

The fundamentals seem to have been recast,

a perception of having taken

a long journey to the interior. 

The moment to expore the season

with Vivaldi, to grasp the assertion,

the fretwork of the river red gum.

At last the opportunity but I am ageing

and my soul yearns for peace.

Time is transient and pitiless;

I must seek out the resting ripple

of the remote and elusive platypus

in the headwaters of the Coxs River

and turn back to accompany you

on your buoyant ascent.  

In the section ‘Anchored’,  one poem  The Challenge of Algebra’ stands out for its thoughtful attention to our wider broken world with the last two tercets,

Faith is a trait which cannot

be contained; it bubbles

and spurts like water

from an underground spring, 

from a young maths student pinned

under the earth of Mariupol

Further sections are  ‘The Ochre of Dawn’, ‘Light on the Breeze’, 

and in the last section titled ‘Interwoven’ 

I especially appreciate Villanelle of the Drought  with 

‘the yawl of callous crows; he dreads their shriek

alighting on a victim in the glare.

The stricken ewe has slumped, half-starved and weak

As Richard Clark commented in his launch Atkinson is a master of enjambement and I was interested to spend some time observing his skilful working of this technique  and how it draws the reader in.  I say this because I  especially relate to his portrayed country world of the 50’s with the droughts and struggles, having spent my childhood in the country albeit a different direction The New England Tablelands. 

It is an interesting journey to see how the poet comes to terms with his memories and the sense of struggle. He accepts the learnings especially from the birds , their lightness of being and so opening the perspective of being untethered and free. and how he comes to the finality with family that brings him home. 

‘Natural Light’ is a worthy collection, full of surprises, poems like gems, some of them have their beauty in the natural light alone,. Others to be given attention, given a bit of spittle,  polished, held, contemplating their translucent beauty. Their show of luminance which as poems here  illuminates the way.   

 

 

David Atkinson’s recent poems, brought together in this latest volume of his work, offer many worthwhile insights on the human condition and the natural world. These broad themes are longstanding interests of David’s – as well as his fascination with birds in their environment and the delights and challenges stemming from those we know best, our families.  – Graham Wood

In this,  David Atkinson’s third collection , his poetry explores the complexities of the human condition, the delights of our flora and fauna, the lost charms of the rural world he knew as a child and the rewards and challenges of family life. With an acute lyrical touch and an unerring ability to evoke sights, sounds and sensations. David’s poems reveal new depths upon every rereading. His poems have achieved success in numerous competitions and have beed published widely in Australia , the USA and the UK – Richard Clark

Launch of the new poetry collection The Book of Jerimiah by Beatriz Copello

   

What an energising and vibrant launch we attended last week. Beatriz Copello’s new peotry collection

The Book of jeremiah is a powerful book for our times.  There was a great crowd at the newly renovated Gleebooks

and it was a wonderful evening of poetry, reflection wine friendship , lots of chatter with poet friends and laughter.

Thank you Beatriz and Gleebooks for a lovely poetry evening.

 

   

 

A Sensory Journey: Haku Down Under Anthology 2024 ed. Carole Harrison and Sue Courney

I am very proud and happy to be included in the beautiful new anthology,  A Sensory Journey, Haiku Down Under Anthology with my haiku.  Thank you to the editors Carole Harrison and Sue Courtney for the beautiful presentation.  

holiday cottage

under a sickle moon

a lone dingo howls

Colleen Keating

 

 

This photo is the nearest I can find to describe my experience except I was alone in the country holiday cottage for the week ( my choice to write) and it was a dark night hence a small cresent moon only and the dingos howled and howled and I thught a pack was just up on a hill nearby.. It did scare me a little at the time but I have read since  that there is nothing to be afraid of as the howling is for a mate. And they don’t come for humans that are not trying to corner them in some way so I tried to show  apprehension in the haiku. I hope it works  that the reader is not sure!!!