
Di Yerbury Residential Award 2023 has a vibrant winner by Colleen Keating

http://www.compulsivereader.com/
Reviewed by Beatriz Copello
I do not think there is a better way to honour a woman of the calibre of Olive Muriel Pink than to write a book of poetry about her life. Colleen Keating has done just that, she has written a poetic journey about this unsung Australian heroine.
With a sharp eye and lyric touch, the world of Olive Pink becomes alive, it is a passionate story told with knowledge. It is evident that the poet has invested years researching the life of Olive Pink. The poet says: “I have been researching, writing and thinking about Olive Pink for over a decade now. The discoveries that come along the way – the portraits unveiled – are very stirring.”
This collection covers many years in the life of Pink, it starts in 1884 and finishes in 1975. The book also has a foreword, a prologue and a chronology as well as notes and bibliography. The labour of love that went into writing this book would grant the author a doctorate.
The author in Notes explains that she aimed to write a book that fell between an accurate scholarly presentation of Olive Pink’s life and her own personal interpretation of it.
Olive Pink was a fighter for justice who advocated for the rights of First Nations People, she was also an anthropologist, artist and gardener. Keating from the first poem in the book alerts the readers about what they will encounter throughout the pages, in this excerpt from “Olive the pioneer” she writes:
Who is Olive?
She defied the silence
caused discomfort
annoyed the authorities.
Her letters shouted from the edge.
She heard budgerigar dreaming
and drummed to a different tune.
She pushed against the colonial tide.
If the answer is ‘eccentric’
in her death she will be twice dismissed.
Who is Olive? History asks.
She broke the silence
her voice for the voiceless
remembered the forgetting.
She visioned justice in the courts.
Her feet knew country.
She carried red dust
under the fingernails of her heart.
She listened to elders, learnt language
wrote down stories, sketched arid plants
medicinal, nutritional, ritual.
If the answer is ‘anthropologist’
in her death she will be twice honoured.
If Keating wrote music, I would say she does not miss a beat, when she raises issues about Olive’s past, she does it with conviction and poignant comments, like in the following excerpt from “A new lodestone”:
The grim spectre of injustice
towards Aboriginal tribes
taunts Olive out of her grief
jolts her from self pity.
Like a silk petticoat pulled over her hair
the air is static in its darkness.
It bleeds through a colander of whitewash words
Its handprint blood-red.
The poet also utilizes very vivid imagery, the readers become Olive, we can see, smell, hear what she experiences. Keating appeals to the senses, the following poem “Restless” illustrates this:
In her dingy office Olive yearns
for the vast open country, large skies,
hazy horizons, a slung kettle hissing
and spitting its leak over the fire.
Burnt flesh and sizzle
of goanna still fill her nostrils.
Olive walks country in her sleep –
the pungent smell of camels
sweaty bodies, blazoned glare, flies
dust-blown storms.
That red dust under
the colour of her heart
and patter of Pitjantjatjara children
still running giggling beside her
lingers like the balm of an Indian summer.
The poet has the skill to write about Olive’s powerful emotions without sentimentality or corniness, through these strong emotions readers can form a picture in their mind of Olive’s personality. The following excerpt from the poem titled “Heady days” is a good example of the Keating’s ability:
Olive is energised by academia.
The scissor-cut horizon
of her desert experience
challenges like a mirage.
She seizes every chance to argue,
‘The root cause is not malnutrition or disease –
They camouflage facts, treat the wrong symptoms.’
Heated discussion rises.
Angrily she fights for breath.
‘Even the most ignorant know the problems –
White man’s aggression, sexual abuse
fear, venereal disease, land dispossession.
We like to deride these facts.’
She flushes, her neck prickles as she continuous,
‘Full-bloods need their own protected country
not mission reserves.’
Her tone is strident.
‘Daily handouts from stations
Keep them tied to white man power.’
Olive Pink struggled all her life to be able to do what men were able to do, in the following poem “High Hopes” Keating captures this desire but also very cleverly imagines her mood in such a difficult situation.
Over dinner her enthusiasm bubbles.
‘After my thesis I plan
a full year of research among the Arrernte’
she confidently tells the Professor
and others grouped around the table.
‘I would like to be included
in your next museum expedition.
It will reduce my research expenses
and my anthropology will enhance the group.’
Silence.
Unease around the room
as lightening awaits a clap of thunder.
Awkward shifts and exchanged glances
the embarrassed clearing of throats.
From her left in a deep tone,
‘That would not be possible …
‘But you took Ted Strehlow on your trip last year!’
‘… for a woman,’ mumbles the professor.
Exposed, Olive’s heart races.
She hopes they don’t notice the burn
of her cheeks.
She avoids eye contact
gazes out as one with miles to go
restless to be on her way.
She needs desert air.
‘Why does gender cause such heart break?’
she broods into the night.
‘Why wasn’t I born a man.”
I would like to congratulate Colleen Keating not only for writing this incredible book but also for honouring a woman from the past which like many other Australian heroines are often forgotten or not given credit for their achievements.
Reading about Olive Muriel Pink will inspire you and give you strength to struggle to achieve your aims.
About the Reviewer: Dr Beatriz Copello is a former member of NSW Writers Centre Management Committee, she writes poetry, reviews, fiction and plays. The author’s poetry books are: Women Souls and Shadows, Meditations At the Edge of a Dream, Flowering Roots, Under the Gums Long Shade, and Lo Irrevocable del Halcon (In Spanish). Beatriz’s poetry has been published in literary journals such as Southerly and Australian Women’s Book Review and in many feminist publications. She has read her poetry at events organised by the Sydney Writers Festival, the NSW Writers Centre, the Multicultural Arts Alliance, Refugee Week Committee, Humboldt University (USA), Ubud (Bali) Writers Festival.
Colleen Keating
Publ. Ginninderra Press
Review by Beatriz Copello
I do not think there is a better way to honour a woman of the calibre of Olive Muriel Pink than to write a book of poetry about her life. Colleen Keating has done just that, she has written a poetic journey about this unsung Australian heroine.
With a sharp eye and lyric touch, the world of Olive Pink comes alive. It is a passionate story told with knowledge. It is evident that the poet has invested years researching the life of Olive Pink. The poet says: “I have been researching, writing and thinking about Olive Pink for over a decade now.
The labour of love that went into writing this book would grant the author a doctorate.
The author in Notes explains that she aimed to write a book that fell between an accurate scholarly presentation of Olive Pink’s life and her own personal interpretation of it.
With vivid imagery, the readers become Olive, we can see, smell, hear what she experiences. with the skill to write about Olive’s powerful emotions without sentimentality or corniness,
Olive Pink struggled all her life to be able to do what men were able to do and Keating captures this desire but also very cleverly imagines her mood in such a difficult situation.
I would like to congratulate Colleen Keating not only for writing this incredible book but also for honouring a woman from the past which like many other Australian heroines are often forgotten or not given credit for their achievements.
Dr Beatriz Copello is a former member of NSW Writers Centre Management Committee. Beatriz writes poetry, reviews, fiction and plays. Beatriz’s poetry has been published in literary journals such as Southerly and Australian Women’s Book Review and in many feminist publications.
Her latest poetry book is Witches, Women and Words. 2022.
after the rain the forest scintilates
a thousand shades of green
gives me a sense it is waiting
all freshly washed polished to shining
for royalty to walk its rocky spread of paths
song of magpies kookaburras whipbirds
and a family of spotted pardalotes skittles
from branch to branch and along the path
entering through the portal of two turpentines
reminds me of oneness – nature and me
mountain devils ginger flowers palms
and ferns featuring spiralling korus
all so foreign to me on two legs
yet Science tells us
we are 98 percent of oneness
We might live up in the hills amongst the trees and birds
but a pleasant train trip has us in the heart of the city
in just on a hour
Our walk into Hyde Park past the Pool of Reflection
through the War Memorial past the Mary McKillop tribute
along Macquarie Street to our first coffee stop
like a Narnia cupboard our State library
is a portal to another world.
we begin with Cafe Trim for a morning coffee
Had to smile how famous is this cat Trim *
statues in his honour in England and here
books written and now a cafe in its name
a quiet walk through the displayed collection
one painting catches my attention
Maria Little c. 1895 worthy of a poem *
across into the Botanical gardens
where the same tree pulls us up every time
its presence so grand that one’s memory
cannot hold it as such and so each time
we meet it one stops and sighs deeply
as if in its presence for the first time
the Calyx was where we walked and sat
amidst a kaleidoscope of colour
plants and passion
close up of the Wollemi Pine
had me in adoration before nature
its early place in evolutions
looking close up at its binary nature
a tree that lived and survived before
even insects evolved
used wind only for pollination
needing the updraft from valley floors
to secure its continuation
Hildegard would’ve given her approved nod
to The Green Wall
and its 18.000 plants
with shades of green in great variety
and spelling out the word Diversity
this ambience gave us a restful vibe
Further on we walked in a wild English garden
mesmerised by the colours
and enterprise of bees and butterflies
a shady spot midst sandstone outcrops
and sparkling vista of a busy harbour
our picnic tasted delicious
Note below my gorgeous blue monarch butterfly
Saturday 21st January 2023
from the diary of Michael Keating
Today we set out for a solid walking tour of the city. I took the Fizan Explorer Walking Pole. We drove to the station and just missed a train. It is so good to get off at Normanhurst on the return journey and have the car waiting for the last 300 metres of up hill. There were plenty of people on the train and in the city.
The Lunar New Year brought a wide range of people into the city. Many were in fancy dress (Rabbits Ears for Year of the Rabbit) and groups were chasing Pokémon type targets. Colleen was amazed by the range of women styles, fabrics and designs.
We alighted at Town Hall and used the Woolworths vintage escalators to make our way towards Hyde Park. We misread the changed pedestrian conditions towards Hyde Park and chalked up a few extra criss-crossing steps. We did the full stretch of Hyde Park. We walked down to and through the Anzac Memorial and around the Pool of Remembrance. Colleen took a photo of myself reflected in the pool. We were at either end and I was standing in front of the Anzac Memorial. The Anzac Memorial deals with WWl specifically with various acknowledgements of later encounters.
There are four sections of wall where mention is made of every town, village, suburb from where men signed up to join the various Armed Forces together with samples of soil.
It was intriguing to wander along and note places of interest – Coonamble, Moonan Flat, Wanaaring (Paroo), Quirindi, Bega – amongst hundreds of others. The Cooee trail is iconic in NSW legend. Since I was last there, they have added a significant water feature on the southern side (Liverpool St) of the Memorial.
From the main steps of the memorial one sees all the way to the Archibald Fountain at the northern end of Hyde Park. We walked down the Hyde Park Avenue and made a detour past St. Mary’s Cathedral. The sculpture of Mary McKillop drew our attention. I would have liked to have wandered inside the Cathedral but I had a hat and was unable to disentangle mask, sunglasses, hearing aids, hat cord. We walked down Macquarie St to the NSW Library where we had a cup of coffee. Thence took some time in the Portrait Gallery. It is interactive and I always like to wait for some inspiration from someone gazing down at me and then doing some basic interactive research. Today the subject was Maria Little – the indigenous daughter of ‘Queen Jinnie Little’. Colleen was quite intrigued.
From the art gallery we walked through the Botanical Gardens. We spent some time at the current Calyx flower exhibition. One of the Volunteer Guides was very pleased to answer our queries.
We had taken some food for lunch. As we walked down through The Gardens we kept a lookout for a shady seat. We are beyond just looking for shady grass. We were almost at the Opera House when we managed to find a seat. It was a great spot and we watched a wide variety of boats. There were no Cruise Ships in today.
We walked around to MCA to use the bathrooms. This enabled us to have another look at some of our current favourites. Colleen did have to take a rest at MCA and then we were on the Light Rail to Town Hall, through Woolworths and thence to Normanhurst via Hornsby.
Evening meal was a mixture of selective cheese, leftovers and a Lite’n’Easy meal.
We watched a French film called Amour. The film was from 2012 and had taken out some awards for that year. It was typically European film with subtlety and tension. The ending was both unexpected and predictable.
Thanks Michael, such a gorgeous day we both enjoyed. The venue 5 star. The company 5 star.
by Samantha Sirimanne Hyde,
On a lovely summer morning, eight of us gathered again for our White Pebbles meeting. As usual, before starting our ginko, we enjoyed catching up with each other’s news over a hot beverage at the Art Centre’s café. We missed Michael Thorley, who was unable to join us.
Whatever the season, it’s always a pleasure to connect with like-minded poets at the peaceful and vibrant Edogawa Commemorative Garden. A gift to the people of Gosford from Edogawa, its Sister City, the traditional ‘shuyu’ (strolling style) garden fittingly celebrates cultural exchange and friendship.
We each dispersed down winding pathways towards whatever sights, scents and sounds beckoned us – shadows flickering on the raked dry stone bed, a cheeky koi pursuing a duck, dry leaves dangling on spider silk and crazy paving triggering childhood memories of hopscotch.
A half an hour later, we gathered around the table in the downstairs meeting room in the gallery premises. As part of our homework, each person shared a sequence of three haiku and then absorbed thoughtful and considered feedback.
Marilyn Humbert had emailed us a very helpful worksheet with guidelines and examples on writing haibun prior to our meeting. So firstly, each person read out their attempts at creating their own and then exchanged feedback. This was followed by Marilyn’s workshop on the subject, furthering the introduction to haibun that she gave us in March last year. We browsed several publications that welcomed haibun. Marilyn spoke of the essence of haibun: the need to write in the present tense, the hook at the start, its “link and shift” nature, its descriptive prose, avoiding repetition, the poem requiring to connect to the story, yet taking it on a different direction, how to select an apt title etc. We thank Marilyn for her excellent workshop.
Our convenor, Beverley George informed us that our wonderful and highly talented founding member, Gail Hennessy, will be bowing out of White Pebbles. We will miss her very much and hope that she’ll be able to visit us occasionally.
Beverley then gave us an opportunity to talk about members’ recent creative efforts. Colleen Keating spoke of her new book, Olive Muriel Pink – a richly researched and beautifully written poetic journey. I spoke briefly about my debut novel, The Lyrebird’s Cry, a modern tale of self-discovery of a gay man trapped into an arranged marriage. While we ran out of time for more such discussion, our Haiga Picture Poet, Kent Robinson’s splendid work, featured on his new website, must also be mentioned.
Buoyed by our foray into haibun, we will most likely start to experiment with this form, apart from dabbling in haiku joy, until our next meeting in autumn.
Samantha Sirimanne Hyde
by Mary Oliver
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
How two hands touch and the bonds will
never be broken.
How people come, from delight or the
scars of damage,
to the comfort of a poem.
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
Saturday 31st December 2022 into 2023
With the now departing year
May your cares &sorrows ease
May the new year drawing near
Bring you happiness and peace. SC. Foster
IT IS TIME TO STOP DEFINING PEACE
AS THE ABSENCE OF WAR
AND START DEFINING IT
AS THE PRESENCE OF LOVE
by Denise Levertov
Friday December 30th 2022
Joan Chittister in The Monastic Way writes:
The Christmas message of peace
reminds us that resistance to evil
does not require power;
it only requires courage.
Then peace can final- ly come.
As Arundhati Roy says,
“There can be no real peace without justice.
And without resistance there will be no justice.”
Today on the morning air
the crows are restless
small birds are hiding
there is a frenzy of arkkkk king
we know thieves of the night
broken eggs fallen from trees
a reminder war rages
while we sing family joy
around our laden Christmas tables
while we celebrate what?
we acknowledge our luck our blessings
with family and friends
while we celebrate what?
Is it war we hide from or peace?
So, are we simply kidding ourselves?
Will the world ever really come to peace?
In fact, is there really any such thing as peace?
And, most of all,
what do we have to do with it?
What are we singing about?
Is all of this so-called feast
nothing more than a too stark reminder
that Karl Marx was right
that religion really is
“the opium of the people”
replace religion with capitalism
fuel it with adds
for what everyone needs
confused with conspiracy
and fake truth or not
lull it with sedatives
not just zoloft or prozac
the escapism we sell to people
either to help them survive the worst
or to help them deny it?
For now with war raging in Ukraine,
with children dying of hungar as I write ,
with seventy million ( the pop of England )
adrift on a sea of the world with out home
some holding on to planks of charity
some with only air to gulp to call life
some sinking in the hunger, some in despair
fifty million in modern slavery
euphonize by any other name
we have to believe in the critical mass
like Peace Warriors who have gone before
in the Hope of Peace
Mary Olive again pulls me up
and out of my well
of powerlessness . . . .
Mary Oliver
from A Thousand Mornings, 2012
There’s no doubt about it, Mary Oliver has that gift in her poetry for keeping us on our toes. With a sense of ease she can draw us into an intimate setting, position us carefully, then without warning pull the carpet right from under our feet. One moment we can be lamenting our sorrowful lot to Mother Nature anticipating sympathetic response. The next, by means of a gracious but firm rebuff, we’re pushed back onto our own resources. The opening expectation in this poem is completely upended by the last line: ‘Excuse me, I have work to do.’ For a substance so fluid and supple, the sea’s character is yet unyielding and resolute. Whilst not rejecting our troubled, searching self, it courteously reminds us that to be fully human means learning to swim in all seasonal tides. This includes encountering really difficult undercurrents. The sea carries this knowledge in its own ebb and flow; communicates it via ‘its lovely voice.’
I love pondering the epigraphs, those quotes chosen by Mary Oliver to preface each volume of her poetry. They contextualise her work in a wider literary sphere, invite a lens from which to view the poems in each volume. These epigraphs also give us a clue to her own mindset at particular stages in her life. I Go Down to the Shore is from the volume: A Thousand Mornings. This volume has two epigraphs: The life that I could still live, I should live, and the thoughts that I could still think, I should think – C.J, Jung, The Red Book and Anything worth thinking about is worth singing about – Bob Dylan, The Essential Interviews
One of my favourites is the line prefacing her volume Evidence: We create ourselves by our choices – Kierkegaard
Reflection by Carol O’Connor
Evidence: Poems by Mary Oliver
Dog Songs: Poems by Mary Oliver
Owls and Other Fantasies: Poems and Essays by Mary Oliver
If you want to see change in the world you have to be that change..
With this year coming to an end we look forward to another chance,
What can i do to be that change?
How can any of us BE that change?
A poem by Judyth Hill speaks for today
By Judyth Hill
Wage peace with your breath.
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen
and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.
Wage peace with your listening:
hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools:
flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.
Make soup.
Play music, learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.
Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Celebrate today.
Our month of December has come to its peak which for many is Christmas day, a festive holiday, a coming together of family and friends, a celebration of the Summer Solstice with the balmy longest day of the year, or for some asad lonely day or just another day with lots of hype and traffic and food .
After a year afflicted by terrorism and war we need a critical mass of ‘yes’ for a new year bringing in peace. Let peace be the way of our world.
Photo credit: Alicia Jo McMahan/Freeimages.com
perhaps in time of overwhelm
in this wrecked and shimmering world
when we seem to be in between times
with hope a misty horizon
we can wall our hearts
put on armour of fear
turn away complacently
yet it is “the tiny not the immense”*
Francis Webb reminds us
will teach our seeking eyes
Christmas beckons us
to be the gardeners of hope
tending the earth nurturing the soil
with love art beauty poetry
it calls us
to be the ones waiting
for the miracle to come
by Colleen Keating
* From “Five Days Old” in Collected Poems Francis Webb
Previously published in The Good Oil journal SGS