Category: Poetry

  • Sweet

    Sweet

    —

    by

    The Tert
    in ,

    Last night I felt you near, as near as my own skin; With eyes that I’ve envisioned countless times in my dreams. Underneath the moonlit sky you pranced around in glee; In the place where you had left me – ages ago it seems.    In the hour of my ruin, you offered me reprieve;…

  • Amber Glass

    Amber Glass

    —

    by

    The Tert
    in ,

    We look in the windows of apartments, rich and middle-class and imagine lives of ours. Swapping clothes with the woman lighting candles on her dining table. Cutting my hair like the woman reading under a lamp in her little library. Drinking wine that’s not from Aldi with just a few people who fill the entire…

  • Donné Restom presents two new shows in Sydney Fringe this week: an interview

    Donné Restom presents two new shows in Sydney Fringe this week: an interview

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    by

    Serena Emanuele
    in , , , ,

    Donné Restom, a Central-Coast-based playwright, storyteller, singer and mum, presents two new productions at the Sydney Fringe Festival this week. ‘Kink in the Tale: Storytelling for Grownups’ – a collection of stories about sex, intimacy and our kinky quirks told live on stage and ‘Everyone in my family is dead or about to be’ –…

  • Distant Seas

    Distant Seas

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    by

    Serena Emanuele
    in

          As winds dance violently with my hair – I catch my mind wandering far and near – miss take my thoughts away from me – my country my soul desires to be – home        Again, my mother’s arms embracing – my Eyes full of tears, my heart racing –…

  • My Dear Old Friend

    My Dear Old Friend

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    by

    The Tert
    in

    I have barely seen you these past few years, but there are holes in my heart that belong to you. And memories marked with your name in the buzz of my head.  Do you remember my phone number from when we were kids? I want to call home. But the numbers disconnected, nobody answers. In…

  • Break Appetit//eyes

    Break Appetit//eyes

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    by

    Zoe Petersen
    in ,

    ‘Break Appetit’    What is there to eat when the food runs out? Pad your stomach with the briny gruel of rage.  What is there to feel when hunger gnaws at feeling? Chisel your nerves in the comfort of numbness.  Does human flesh taste like survival? My, what big teeth you have.   ‘eyes’   …

  • Roadkill

    Roadkill

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    by

    The Tert
    in

    it’s fresh when I pass it by guts glistening in the dim headlights, a red smear of viscera across the dewy morning concrete. as I try and fail to not let my eyes linger, i wonder if, like me, you had a destination in mind.   i see you from around the bend, misshapen lump…

  • Sinner

    Sinner

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    by

    The Tert
    in

    ‘It’s in the sway of her hips I can see her sins. Like a an STD; it crawls through her blood. Her lips cushion with a shade of sex; A chemist perfume lingers from across the bar. The gripping cloth leaves nothing to the imagination, She has the men crawling to her.   The power…

  • Monday Fever

    Monday Fever

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    by

    Adrienne Slattery
    in ,

    To his alarm, great purple hammocks hung beneath his eyes, sore to the morning sun. Wrestling house keys to the car, it had stung to jog, spurred by the memory that he’d done mere nothing of the work his boss had sprung upon him two weeks back… too much among other tasks, and paralysis of…