Emily by Michele Seminara


When I was a little girl
They shut me up in prose
Because I dealt my pretty words
Like treason to my foes.


A loaded gun — they called me —
And carried me away
And locked me in the closet —
A false captivity!


Demure — and you’re dangerous —
Assent — and you are sane —
I breathed enough to simulate
Their narrow parlor game.


But a wounded heart dives deeper —
Tis the profundity of pain
That drives one to explore
The glittering continent of the brain.


And though they could not see my mind
Behind its Vesuvian face,
Or sense its darkest madness
Or know its divine grace

As easy as the gushing spring
That wends its way to sea,
My inland Soul exhaled —
Into Infinity —




* ‘Emily’ is a found poem sourced from the poems of Emily Dickinson


We Lived Near Beasley Street


It’s a street in a suburb of a misunderstood town

The place where childhood’s journey begins

The wind that blows around about

Speaks of loneliness and sin

The planned city hinged by round-abouts

Tame and neat, a housewife’s treat

It’s Lumbertown, it’s Twin Peaks

The façade of Ainsworth Street


In the grim dark hours of evening

Voices rise up over the din

The crash of wedding crockery

Will fill our weekly bin

As a toddler dreams of astronauts

His trance is broken as she entreats

A forest of legs to cling and to fell

In the shooting gallery of Ainsworth Street


There were days when it was all spring blossoms

When skateboard scrapes match the claret ash

The dusk of laughter lingered

As brussel sprouts were boiled into mash

There were days when the world was too close

When the news screamed of blood on the street

When chopper blades sent us diving for cover

On the fringes of Ainsworth Street


Politicians ponder hard decisions

As we figure how to make ends meet

We hear the echoes of, “Kerr’s cur”

In the burgeoning bourgeois heat

All our aspirations evaporate

As the voices crowd out and repeat

“Look at those worthless bunch of bastards”

Struggling down on Ainsworth Street


In spite of all the palaver

The house was more than a roof over our heads

There was love in the time of psychosis

And someone to change the sheets on our beds

In the shadows of the pyramid

Where survival was some kind of feat

Improvise, adapt and overcome

Was the life on Ainsworth Street



My second guest for December, thank you Lajos Hamers!

It’s poem about growing up in Canberra … Inspired by John Cooper Clarke.

Lajos is an actor, musician, singer, writer and all round buff gentleman.
I’m a Phd Student in Creative Arts at Wollongong Uni.

The Brood


Diamonds puppies fury lunch
Tripping lipping sipping punch
Siblings eyeing words they munch

Ouching oozing silency yum
Wriggling woozing in my tum
Crunching shoulders turning numb

Move on droove on how bout that
Try it fly it give her a pat
Joking hoking – I think not.

By Penny Foster.

Penny understands the poplar fluff myth having spent a year at ANU and
appreciates Canberra for what it is having lived too many years in Sydney.
She randomly writes poetry at odd hours of the night, enjoys a bit of
pottery and loves listening to loud music.


Penny is the first of my guests in december. Enjoy!