Friday, July 13, 2007

Poetry reading at Sappho Bookstore, Glebe

There were 95 people in the courtyard for the launch of the Poetry Unlimited Press (P.U.L.P) 2007 anthology of poems, Illumina (Guest Editor Judith Beveridge, Edited by Roberta Lowing).

Outdoors, surrounded by richly muraled walls, candlelight lighting up faces animated by alcohol, lattes, friends and conversation. Great heaters could have been roaring furnaces adding to a temperate climate, this feeling helped by the swaying leafy potted palms in the terraced, cobbled courtyard.

The sentiments of the guest poet Judith Beveridge were authentic, humane and raw about why people need to and want to read and write poetry. I never got poetry before I met and became close friends with Michael Buhagiar, and the poetry lined path I have been led down is inviting, rich and nourishing, and of great comfort to my psyche.

I participated in the open mic. section of the night by reading my own poem, even though I was feeling extremely unbaked as a poet! I did it though, that on its own is an achievement, to actually do something that I had said I wanted to. I was welcomed back to my table with pride and love from my companions that was completely disproportionate to my poem or its reading. I felt loved.

I am working on my use of language to communicate ideas and and feelings that people can connect to. I haven't got anything new, but here is one of Michael's just published in the anthology Illumina. People really like this poem, it is a descriptive, emotional and reflective poem and all cat lovers will relate to it!

Michael Buhagiar
Requiescat

A hillock blisters the field of spread.
Black gold lies ready to yield it prize.
Zeus has sown his seed in this bed
And his son will soon astonish our eyes.

Rub it and listen! It begins to purr,
A genie slinks from his cloistered home,
A white snout first, then night of fur,
A nugget of truth from the formless loam.

This was our game: I'd flip the spread
To hide that form curled up as if dead.
The ball is the term of the smiling mask.

Now to bury a stiffened corpse is my task.
And as the bleeding shreds of old day fade
A sun arises on the game we played.

(included here with permission from Michael Buhagiar - Thanks Michael!)

2 comments:

Jo Kay said...

Fantastic poem from Michael.... but I want to read yours too!! ;)

Congrats on having the courage to get up and share your work... you are brave! ;)

Maria Giannone said...

liked Michael's poem

I would like to read your poem too Annie