Free Range Poems are not happy locked up inside a website or the pages of a book.
Free Range Poems subscribe to Poetry Without Borders.
Free Range Poems want to be heard in Comedy Clubs, on street corners, radio and ‘Australia’s Got Talent’.
Free Range Poems want to be hung on the walls of Art Galleries. They want to be read on the sides of buses, in shop windows and on billboards along the interstate.
Free Range Poems want to be as revolutionary as the music of Phillip Glass and Herbie Hancock was in the seventies.
Free Range Poems have edges and grit; they are not polished to perfection.
Bald and black
As an emu’s egg, the helmet’s hatched
A biker’s head.
An Aussie Poem
I am reading a poem by Jacqueline Turner called ‘a Canadian poem’. It is from 2008. It is very funny and very true. Here are a few of its stanzas:
‘a Canadian poem would be exceedingly polite
‘a Canadian poem would be
Emblazoned on a backpack
As if to say, this is not
An American poem’
‘a Canadian poem would be quiet’
‘a Canadian poem would say no
To joining the war in Iraq.’
‘a Canadian poem would be
Multicultural, speaking at least
73 different languages’ …..
And so on. Some of these things would be true of an Australian poem. And some would not. It would be an interesting experiment to write a poem about Australia, saying what specifically defines an Aussie. Such a poem would probably begin: ‘An Aussie poem would be ….’
Maybe someone could try it. Or it need not be an aussie poem. It could begin like: ‘An Irish poem would be …’ or a German poem would be …’ I hope someone tries it. I might give the aussie poem a bash.
She said the cat when curled
was neat like the bridges of madison county,
the tight little paperback she was holding
in the palm of her slender hand
I wish I had hair like Donald Trump
Tatts like Mike Tyson.
I wish I had an attitude like Joe Gould who declared: “I would continue to write if I were the sole survivor of the human race.”
I wish I were funny as Seth Rogen,
I wish I had Abs like Ryan Gosling.
I wish I had big feet like Ian Thorpe so I could out lap all the other bastards in the pool.
I wish I had the equanimity of Buddha.
You wear your hat like a condom
Your hair like a haze
You can sail the world in just 28 days.
You speak like a Martian
You think liked a God
You dismember arguments wrapped in a fog.
You know the world’s secrets
And where they are hid.
I know where you listen but not where you live.
You shine like the sun
You glow like the moon.
I hope to get acquainted with you real soon.
A skeleton from the closet
Phoned the other day
One we thought had been
Securely locked away.
We tried to entice it
Cajole it back in
But that skeleton was
Determined to be seen.
For it had grown flesh
Learned hows to live
And clearly would rattle
All the relatives.