This weekend I am heading down to Speedpoets for more open mic fun, which will be good practice as I’ve been asked to participate in next month’s Poetry Month Author Readings at Avid Reader in West End. More info soon.
Archive for July, 2010
I am very excited to share that my manuscript ‘Memory Bone’ has been shortlisted in the 2010 Press Press prize. Hopefully in the next few weeks I will know whether it will proceed to publication. Fingers crossed!
More at the PressPress website.
My poem “Evelyn May’s Guest Room” has been selected for inclusion in the 2010 Central Coast Poets Anthology, which is very exciting. The poem is inspired by my late grandmother and the memories and items that existed in her highset Queenslander in Toowoomba (now sadly part of an industrial estate).
Here it is:
Evelyn May’s Guest Room
Evelyn May’s glass perfume bottle sits heavy,
burdened by privative hours. It’s been left to preside
over history from a white lipped sea of doilies. No one has
laid hands on its sleek form, nor unscrewed its metal cap
for years. It will be consigned to chattels, its belly emptied
like her biscuit tin. For her worth too, is distilled from a scent
long expired, granted a small pulse each time the Westlander
passes, studding cerulean with industrial cold; enduring passage
like clockwork. Here, there is only silky oak for company, veiled
heavy in dust stasis. Without expectation, there is no purpose.
The afternoons drift like gossamer.
© 2010 Vanessa Page
Last month I read for the first time at the June Speedpoets gig at the Inspire Gallery. It was both daunting and exhilarating and I’d like to practise reading my work more often. I was joined by my son who also stepped up during the open mic to read his poem “I am a Pirate Boy”. I read “Postcard”, and my poem “Wet Season” appeared in the June zine. Many thanks to Graham Nunn for publishing my work.
I would write you
an elegy about love
if I could transcribe the way
your hands would curl silence
around reason, or lend the planes of your
body to eyes, to move over the Braille of me
or then, how your choice would spawn acidity
over sublimation and the wait for perfect ellipses,
because it was the simplest piece for you to play
and even later, when it’s all down on paper
the only surety that can be written is fortune;
so instead I’ll fold these lovers’ notes tiny
and affix them to the top left of you.