Category Archives: Poetry

Poetry, Writing Stories

Poetry Slam Winners – Queensland Finals

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My friend Jenny came second in the Queensland Poetry Slam finals.

The winner was Vivi Baker with her poem on The Murder of Women. I was unable to contact Ms Baker for her permission to publish her poem, that’s why this post is late, but Jenny Campbell gave me her poem to share. I hope you like it. Congratulations to both women poets who will now enter the Australian national finals.

I wanted an image to go with Jenny’s poem and there was so many to  choose from, but I thought this one was appropriate. It was one of the many Trump images on Digital Arts UK – following his election last year.

This was the cover for German publication Der Spiegel. Translation: The end of the world (as we know it). Published on Digital Arts UK.

 

Anatomy of Terror – Jenny Campbell.

 

Beware the terror everywhere

beneath your skin and in your stare

it’s in the thoughts you dread to think

it’s in our leaders guilty blink.

 

Its terror this and terror that

please remove your welcome mat

for terror lurks and terror hides

it grips our lives, but who decides

 

the terror here and terror there?

Invent a villain, Laissez Faire!

A glance into your neighbor’s yard

may reveal a suspicious bard.

 

Hide your children! Take the stairs!

They come in ones and groups and pairs!

Bombing things, invading shores

they’re using terror as their oars!

 

But don’t protest or make a sound

‘cause there’s a lot of them around;

and they could use a cluster bomb

and who could guess where that came from?

 

So, be you sweet or sharp of mind

they target most of human kind

they take our nature firm in hand

to help us fear them on command.

 

“They” are world leaders, close the door.

To sovereign coin they pimp and whore.

For oil and gas they kill, inflame

but how they fear revolution’s name.

 

They run our countries, seize our lands

our blood and breath drips through their hands

they kick the weak and rob the poor

delivering terror door to door.

 

They use their journos as a prop

who spread the terror news non-stop

to make the nightmare crystal clear

they ‘manage’ what we see and hear.

 

They pillage with psychotic lust

betray their nation’s flagging trust

and then at night they go to bed

indifferent to the lives they shed.

 

Oh yes, world leaders terrify

and brutalize and falsify.

So if the ‘terror’ gets to you

be alarmed: they built this zoo!

 

Jenny Campbell ©

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photography, Poetry, Writing Stories

A Son’s Call – Poem

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A Son’s Call – a dedication to Kaz

Kaz our pet lorikeet. He is always there.

A Son’s Call

My feathered son’s call

Above them all

Each day, and all day

Reminding me he’ll stay

And no matter what brings

My heart is joyed when he sings

 

Art, People, Poetry, Writing Stories

A Songbird of Articulate Words

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A Songbird of Articulate Words – J.K.Leahy Story

Jenny and Tawny.

A songbird is a bird that produces musical sounds which are like singing, according to the Webster dictionary. If that’s the case then photographer/poet Jenny Campbell is a songbird in my view.

I can confidently say this after listening to her at a lunch table last week in Brisbane, reciting one of her poems about the world we live in.

I share the love of birds with Jenny, but she takes her love for these feathered creatures to another level where she stalks them in the swamps and photographs them – then writes poetry about them. The ‘stalking’ is also called bird-watching. Jenny also writes serious poetry about life, the environment and politics.

Jenny Campbell the poet.

I met Jenny a week ago in Brisbane through a dear friend Dr Susan Cochrane, an arts curator and a writer. Jenny is one of many artists participating in the Blue Mountains Garden of Earthly Delights Festival in November. In the Blue Mountains show, she will be featuring her bird photography and poetry. Dr Cochrane is the curator of the Blue Mountains Botanic Gardens show marking its 30th anniversary. Another artist participating in the botanic show, is Orly Faya.

Jenny is currently in Brisbane  for the QPF2017 Australia Poetry Slam – Queensland Finals. She is one of 20 finalists. Below this story Jenny has kindly allowed me to feature one of her bird photographs and the poem she wrote for this bird – an Australian robin. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Let’s wish Jenny Campbell all the best in the poetry finals this Sunday, ( August 27th) at the Judith Wright Centre, Fortitude Valley, Brisbane.

Take us to another place
where vines entwine the heart
correcting misconceptions
through the first and final art

Untwine entrenched surrender
feel the struggle to betray
the very chains that bind us
as a Robin says: “G’day.”

Eastern Yellow Robin, Australia

 

Poetry, short stories, Writing Stories

Vanishing Point – Poem

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A sleepless walker strides by dusk

The Brisbane River glassed

Beyond the vanishing point, houses blackened

A large orangey pink blanket covered the sky

It reflected on the river glass

Under the trees, an egret beamed

Its milky white feathers lit the roots

The walker disturbed the egret

The bird flew towards the orangey – pinkie sky

Looking to where the bird landed in the tree

The walker spots an odd couple – he tall and large

She is tiny and frail

They stand, side by side, arm’s length apart

Their arms are each folded; awkward

They stare into the river

Maybe they were speaking about the glassy river

Or the orange sky, the sleepless walker or the egret

There is a promise of love beyond the vanishing point

The walker smiles. Maybe sleep is coming tonight

Art, Poetry, short stories, TRIBALMYSTIC BLOG, Women, writing, Writing Stories

Mother’s Creations – Poem

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Handmade by Freda Kauc – acrylic and wool bag. (sold).

Mother

JK.Leahy  – Poem, Memoir

A wrinkled dusky pink sheet cradles a flowered meri blouse, a laplap and a bible – a word or two in the bible is for me, she echoes…

Room scented with sea, woods, coconut oil, eucalyptus and basil

A lotto ticket to set me up for life (her farewell and a surprise gift)

“If I won,” she always said, “I would let you decide what to do with the money”

We had laughed and discussed the possibilities

On the bed, an italic old-style farewell, handwritten in a very neat prose, mixing pidgin and dialect –

“Pawi – my child, I will miss being here…”

My mother was in a plane and gone

Twelve months threaded colourful bilums, gardens, and stories,

bringing me back to the first ten years of my life.

An assortment of brown hue – sculptured gum branches stacked for winter’s fires

Through the window, her many familiar artwork marked my surroundings, reminding me of her even bossy ways

-purple and green kaukau leaves sitting neatly on mounds

“You have sweet potatoes for winter”, her voice reminds me.

The large elephant leaves of pumpkin spreads and sprout golden flowers – a promise for more food.

But, I miss her telling me her stories.

Freda Kauc mobile phone bags.

See below some of my mother’s creations. All her bilums featured here were sold before she left Brisbane for Papua New Guinea. If anyone is interested to purchase my mother’s bags – please write to: joycelinleahy@gmail.com

Freda Kauc bilum – handbag.
Freda Kauc handbag and mobile phone bag.

 

blogging, Life, Memoir Writing, Poetry

Void – Poem

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VOID: JK.Leahy Poetry

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A rippling void is dancing across endless waters,

yet returning in the dark night to stab at the heart

The cold wind sings this blackness like its favourite song,

The waves join the wind to mock, jeer and keep rolling by

Birds call, keep strong! fight!

A yearn deeper than the flows of strong murky rivers pushes forward

Thoughts tug at the heartstrings, jarring it with questions and rationales

A child could only wait; for a father could speak at any time

Photography, Poetry, writing, Writing Stories

Day’s Reflection – Poetry

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Day’s Reflection – Poetry

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JK.Leahy©

A reflection mirrors today

In trapped waters, blue melts white light

Finding its way as water may,

where leafy dense could not steal this sight

Far beyond, a rainbow display

as if to say, blue sky has come to stay

Poetry, Writing Stories

The Rainbow – Poetry

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www.hdnicewallpapers.com
http://www.hdnicewallpapers.com

The Rainbow ©JK.Leahy

There is a rainbow

beyond the shadow

Where blended lights mellow

darkness lurks in shallow

Afraid of radiance’s glow

in obscurity, crevices open

Mind unlocks, and lets go

Beams will seek night

where bad memories hide

Upon the altar, a peace-offering

In spirit we build oneness

to end all writhing

And, we touch the rainbow

 

This poem is dedicated to all Papua New Guinean writers; fighting to find their voice in the literary world. To my readers, if you can relate to this poem and it applies to how you feel at this moment, then it is for you too.

Art, JK. Leahy Short Stories, My Art, Poetry

A Storyteller

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A Storyteller – Stories, Poetry & Art

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JK.Leahy Illustration, Jan 2016

A storyteller illustrates a story about a girl, her mother and a turtle.

As the graphite glistens like a medieval etching on stone, the crisp white paper grows pictures. The art dances and the images come together and get close in a circle.

The storyteller adds smiles on their faces; the story is going to have a happy ending.

But, as the three characters get closer during the shading, the storyteller accidentally gives the mother a tear. Another tear is added deliberately for balance. Then the storyteller gives the girl a tear, somewhat reluctantly. The storyteller’s eyes fill with tears.  She works faster as tears stream down her face. She begins to shade around the three characters. She cannot separate them. The storyteller is pulled into the circle, to the three characters. There is no separation. It is the law of nature. It is the law of memory and love. It is the law of characters that we love.