Author Archives: SpeedPoets

About SpeedPoets

SpeedPoets is a community of writers, engaging people with poetry in a very public forum - the InSpire Gallery Bar, 71 Vulture St, West End. It is a space for artists to meet, perform and establish networks within their local community. There is nothing that specifically defines SpeedPoets. It is what it is - a creative space where many of Brisbane's finest poets/spoken word artists experiment with words backed by poetic riff-maker, Sheish Money. The gig is held on the first Sunday of the month and runs from March to November each year. Each month there is Open Mic, a feature poet and singer/songwriter, free Zines and giveaways. The gig runs from 2pm to 5:30pm.

STAYRDAY AFTERNOON AT THE LUCKY DUCK

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REVISED AND RE-POSTED

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by | October 27, 2014 · 8:31 am

SEPTEMBER CALL BACK POET

CALL BACK POET

September 2014

M.SHANTI

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Bed of Nails

 

I thought I read you well

Foresaw our future

in a teacup

Woke up to the rain

I had my head in the clouds

tripping on treetops

I wanted to cut off

your wings

Set fire to the sky

But I always knew

you would defy gravity

and rise like a Phoenix

I could never hold

you down for long

Pull you into my bed of nails

I have a desert

in the pit of my stomach

A sandstorm in my eyes

Memories mixing

with regret

No reservoir of comfort

Just another casualty

 

M.Shanti 2013

 

 

Shanti or M.Shanti, which her close friends know is short for Michelle and which they also know never to call her, came to poetry late.  After being introduced to it through her brother Francis, in 2000.  Who at the time was on the QPF board and involved in the Brisbane poetry scene.  After attending SpeedPoets, as an audience member for several years, from it’s inception, Shanti became so saturated by poetry, it entered into her blood stream.  The natural progression then was to start writing and reading her own poems.  Shanti has been attending SpeedPoets ever since, except for the occasions when work has got in the way.  Shanti has read at a variety of other poetry gigs but SpeedPoets will always be her favorite.

M Shanti

 

Sunflowers
(For my Dad)

She sews on diamonds
to hide the scars
Hums a melody
to void the silence
Dreams of dancing
in the streets of Paris
And the clock ticks on
sunlight falls
across the floor
And in the shadows
she sees the faces
of friends long gone
She plants sunflowers
to light her memories
Lies down amongst the roses
to feel the rip of thorns
And the comfort of the earth
surrounding her body
Safe in the knowledge
that one day soon she will return
from where once she came

M.Shanti 2006

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OCTOBER FEATURE POET – ZENOBIA FROST

ZENOBIA FROST
zenobia frost

Zen-4368WEB

 

biography

Zenobia Frost is the coordinating editor of
Cordite Poetry Review.
Her work has appeared in
Voiceworks, Overland, Southerly and The Lifted Brow
and been shortlisted in the
2013 Overland Judith Wright Poetry Prize
and
Thomas Shapcott Prize.
Her debut poetry collection,

Salt and Bone,

is out now through Walleah Press.

 

Tea

loose-leafed
at midday

you return
to centre yourself
in the globe of the strainer

a habit in calm
or at least calm in habit

and it’s there
in the night
when you’re spilled
over the bed
too sleepless to sleep

the universal symbol
of sympathy
a warm-bodied teapot

each pour
a vital pause

each cup
the universal symbol
of sympathy
a warm-bodied teapot

a portal to a biscuit

coffee folk can keep
their crafted potions

I never misjudge
a sturdy assam
a hint of bergamot

 

 

 

Civic Duty

Rosalie, Brisbane

Each day’s late fee
is one more day
in business. Walk the aisles
making mantras of titles,
shuffle worn carpet,
thumb static horror
blurbs in Papyrus:
finite options; infinite terror.

Stocked with boxed ways
to avoid going out,
our last local refuge of
streetpress dregs and special
favourite-members’ deals.
We no longer need to flash our card
to revisit films we rented once
or just once more – their covers,
like windows or tombstones.

But one day Civic Video
will close and on that day
there will be nothing:
neon-gone – a glowing
museum set piece.

Whatever killed the dinosaurs
is killing Civics. Already paleozoic,
Blockbuster never saw Rosalie
craft an ark of empty video cases.

A little more home
with each hole punched
in that loyalty card
we never end up
cashing in.

 

Zenobia Frost
Red Room Company
The Poetry Object 2013

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POETS’ CORNER

JAQK Horner

THE FLEDGLING OPEN MIC EVENT BASED ON THE sPEEDpOETS FORMAT

AT MAROOCHYDORE – FUSION ON OCEAN EACH TIME A SATURDAY
TURNS OUT TO BE THE SECOND SATURDAY OF THE MONTH

BE PART OF THE POETRY COMMUNITY

SPEND THE MORNING ON THE BEACH, HAVE LUNCH AT FUSION AND IMMERSE YOURSELF IN POETRY FOR THE AFTERNOON

11 October 2014

Featured Poets are Heather Shearer and Angela Pieta.

the food and coffee are fantastic.

licensed.

the company is great.

 

Bring a poem or three and join in the open mic (you may not need a mic)

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CALL-BACK POET AUGUST 2014

john koenig
JK

JK IS THE CALL-BACK POET FOR AUGUST.  

HERE ARE A COUPLE OF HIS POEMS.

The Ted Bundy Affair

Forensic psychologists talk
about how he selected
his victim, by the tilt
of her head.
Such an emotive word, victim,
he was never one
for emotion,
he would much prefer, prize,
as in trophy.
Not for him anvil-jawed
fierce-eyed girls
with smooth sure strides,
he was never one
for competition.
Better a girl caged by doubt
or best of all a bleeding heart.
How they bled.

Splintered mouths,
limp below clouded eyes,
curled like a flat spare tyre
in the black trunk of his car.
Rust red staining
the cold steel tools,
rattling along
gravel ridge roads,
where the warm night air
carried the smell of
decay.

 

                 SpeedPoets Logo edit

 

 

  THIS IS WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE 

John-Koenig

JK 2

 

 

 


JK

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s all in the Grain

And on that night
when I sit with my back
against the summer breeze
of a friend’s verandah
around a table hewn by the
rough hands of a bushranger’s son
laughing about the foolishness of life
please let that table
be silky oak.

And if while driving home
on one of those country roads
like the back of my hand
I nod off and drift
same as the last time
when I first started dreaming on roads
and splintered that ironbark railway fence
except this time there is no highly strung
eight-gauge safety net
to catch me
this time my luck runs out
and I run off the gun metal road
headlong into the crunching embrace
of a grand roadside tree
and there is smoke and shattered glass and spilt fuel
one deflated wheel spinning lazily
under a straw man dawn
please let that tree
be silky oak.

And when the undertaker
toting his heavy green bag
with the body length zip
comes to fetch me
and in his care I ride for free
back to the mortuary
where with a minimum of fuss
he does my hair
taking time to clean under my nails
(it’s the thought that counts)
and only then does he lay me out
in a blue silk lined box
where I can finally rest
and oh yes
please let that coffin
be silky oak

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SEPTEMBER SPEEDPOETS FEATURE

lesley synge
on september 27

Lesley

 

 

 

 

 

one of the great things about the move to the Lucky Duck is that some of our prodigals (and prodiguys) have returned to SpeedPoets more regularly
Lesley Synge is one of these, and we are so pleased to have her dropping in so often that we asked her to do a feature

I missed out on a copy of ‘Organic Sister’, but have long owned and cherished her book ‘Mountains Belong to the People who Love Them: Slow Journeys in South Korea and Eastern Australia’.  Grab a copy at SpeedPoets this Saturday.  You will not regret it.

 

LesleySynge Sep 14

  There is         © Lesley Synge

 There is evil in the world:
I’ve seen it glow.
I have looked into its furnace
and seen it blow.

 There is love in the world:
I’ve eased its flow.
I’ve dived beneath its surface
and felt its tow.

 There’s emptiness in this world:
emptiness to know.
I’ve slipped into its nothingness
haha hee hee
……………………ho ho

 

Lesley Synge documents life with eyes wide open. She turns her gaze with equal intensity to all before her, whether the wrongs of contemporary society or the serendipity of passing clouds.  She is widely published in prose as well as poetry and is an award-winning novelist and short story writer. Lesley Synge’s first collection of poetry Organic Sister has gone out of print and her most recent book is Mountains Belong to the People who Love Them: Slow Journeys in South Korea and Eastern Australia. For sale at the special price of $20.

My Hairdresser

Don’t even think about
spending more than two seconds
bleating about your broken heart
in her salon
because she’ll tell ya straight –
men are only good for one thing.
After a hair appointment with Terry
you’d come out feeling like
you’d danced all night at a disco
steada having the dead cells on top of your head
tizzed up.
Know what I mean?

Bit on the loud side, our Terry
a bit … OTT.
Every time you booked in
she’d have redecorated
and be swirling around in a weird teenage outfit
running a hand through the latest
colour in her hair
or through the tinsel wig she wore
after illness struck.

She hated it when she couldn’t work any more
drove her husband nuts as she
ran up her bankcard
on rows of lights across the lounge-room ceiling
and huge mirrors.

I saw this jazz when I came to stay the night.
She was wearing slinky tight black pants
and a sexy pink T-shirt
and I was in my fake leopard fur
to help her feel as if we’d returned
from drinking cocktails
and not about to spend the evening
lounging on the double bed she could hardly leave
now her bones had started to shatter.
She told her husband
Darl, you gotta get me to the hospital
for a decent shot of morphine.
The poor bugger was so sleep-deprived
he could hardly summon the ambos.
When they came, she refused
to utter the word pain
but when they heard the name of her condition
they knew she wasn’t faking it.

She chirped away
as if some spunk was tempting her
into the back of his panel van
to zoom her to his favourite midnight beach
instead of the Emergency Department.
Hey haven’t I seen you guys somewhere before?
That naked ambos calendar?
These boys are spunky she winked at me.
And they laughed back
Lady, you belong in that TV show
Absolutely Fabulous.
And before they closed the ambo doors
her husband tucked a basket under the high-tech stretcher –
whenever she went to hospital she knitted psychedelic scarves
for the homeless –
and said Darl! you won’t believe the number plate!
it’s 124 LUV
and she said
I’d like to give these spunks 124 love.
The ambos eased away like they had celebrity cargo
while we stood in the empty driveway
and punched the air
and cried 124 LUV!
as if we’d discovered
the meaning of life.

Down Here, our Terry’s not cutting hair
anymore, making her clientele look good
for weddings, parties, divorces, new lovers.
But we all know what’s happenin Up There.
In her black miniskirt and stilettoes
brandishing her scissors
she’s chasing God around
from cloud to cloud shrieking:
You’d look spunky with a bleached crewcut!
Why the hell do ya wanna look like a hippie?
I’m gonna texturize the crap outa that beard of yours.
Have ya seen how cool the angels look with purple streaks?
God, we have ta brighten This Place up.

Lesley Synge 

For Terry Windred 1951-2012

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POETS’ CORNER – a new event on the Sunshine Coast

 

 MAROOCHYDORE

POETS’ CORNER
Open Mic
Featured Poets
Raffle Prizes

BE PART OF THE LOCAL POETRY COMMUNITY

JAQK Horner

 At the
Hidden Bean

Corner of Beach and OCEAN Streets,

Maroochydore
on the second Saturday of each month
STARTING
SATURDAY 13 SEP
2pm TO 5pm

BAR AND CAFE WILL BE OPEN

 

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