I am promised a new sun 21 Living among the sick and the sickening what else shall I carry except germs and allergens that keep me tossing and turning from 10 p. I re-live bliss through death 52 Her guru reminds he knows her inside out: I love the light after birth the eden on the earth I may not know where I go after living the hard life but I know the freedom — get back to what God gave us in love let life shape anew from the nude origin 70 Where will we reach sailing in a coffin or dreaming to anchor off the rainbow arch the gold and purple ashes won't revive the phoenixes lost in myths and stories: Their petty politics defies silence 77 I don't endorse their pact to squeeze adulation and control faith of the masses to shed blood and spread darkness: I'm diseased in soul before the devil reappears I must commit the act or suffer the bull for castrating in the dried canal where some fishy cousins waylay cowmen with their upthrust bosoms and make noise too in the half dark seizing and unseizing slowly all dreams get buried in sand and grass now I don't bother the sweetness of papaya growing taller between the fence and the drain or the urchins stealing the fruit there's no fun in romance with the moon or flowers at night smells and sounds of the weather smack of allergies that cripple the andropausal day and ice all the gelled machismo too many are the grudges and I can't remedy my mind or body with mystical bids: The roof and base tell of the wild growth, the expanding peepals snakes, scorpions, lizards have free time round the year it's the deserted look an extension of my existence without repair or maintenance for decades their apathy disturbs sleep I suffer scars and sparks, burn my skin measure my shadow at different hours yet I couldn't become the skeleton I watch the earthworms on the corpses that swell stomach of headless mummies or lie dormant to kill the spirit the elements, ochre moon, sun, tongues — the Buddha's fan fails to renew faith I can't redeem my karmic credit Dusk is doomed when I shovel light in darkness fail to live the intensity of prayer moistened eyes draw me near divine for a while soul is light and flowers and wings furl in moon but soon pain overwhelms my space and tears swell fingers feel decaying fireflies in lamplight voice turns blue I scare my vision there's no grace It doesn't end even if I abandon desire: I was dependent on my father a self-made man against the currents I couldn't read the sky and its stronghold the prints of the Ganga's sand have faded like the rainbow in a spray of years that prick like pebbles now the caries, cavities cyst and myopia haunt and sexual anxieties disturb sleep and dreamless nights the hairs on my balding head mirror the laughter I have ceased to take note of I have ceased to peel the ugly shapes, the cunning and treacherous I work with resent my identity and the future I fail spinning influences yet I'm sure when I stopped it won't be all that bad: She hears the voice of unrealized bliss in the coos of koel at the window sill this evening rains love and delight His message to meet at moonrise among the flowers sparkles a secret on her smiling face passion glows with charming fervour She is no moon yet she drifts like the moon, takes care of him from the sky — meets him for a short, waxing leaves him for a long, waning Before going to bed she looks too sad to have any sweet dream: She senses all things changing as she passes through the city again: At the river she folds her arms and legs resting her head upon the knees and sits as an island Is it her quietus that she roars in herself like a sea waves upon waves leaps upon herself?
The wind lifts her curved nudity hidden in the water curtain: I touch the strings that whisper love in each falling drop Gods couldn't change the rhythm of the body and its needs: When the sun is erotic and the moon lyric the winds turn tempestuous in the orbit of love legs slide by calls of nature You and I alive in cold winter night feeling warmth of your body through erect nipples after days of abstinence Before the foamy water could sting her vulva a jelly fish passed through the crotch making her shy- the sea whispered a new song Swirling spiral of her skirt spills tides of dream and memory: I breathe fire in the dance forgetting bends and twists When I wanted to change seats my friend said she can only if the door's locked the light out and her mom in another city Life limits between whence the sun rises and where it goes to relax: When I have no home I seek refuge in the cage of your heart and close my eyes to see with your nipples the tree that cared to save from sun The smile you weave splits the sun I lose my direction in clouds that cover the banks darkening the white of the lake moon kissed Drinking evening star blue green patterns before eyes no meditation no god visits to forgive the sinning soul in solitude Exhausted she sleeps unaware of my presence this warm night carefree I croon my spring song alone and fill the void with new dreams As I repose in the wrinkles of her face I feel her crimson glow in my eyes her holy scent inside a sea of peace The room has her presence every minute I feel she speaks in my deep silently Love is the efflux from her body spreading parabolic hue — enlightens the self I merge in her glowing presence Looking at her face for the glint of her nose-pin or rise of renku they couldn't finish but form in their eyes together Your vacant eyes reveal this city: Living in dust smoke and white darkness I know I just flicker — stand alone like a lighthouse lost in the fog of seashore Afternoon dancing on the waves — receding sea then a lashing roaring wall of water, returning sea What should I do about the mornings that couldn't be: Breathing pipe choked with coloured dust celebrate spring in coalfield: The chilly wind blows to freeze my feet and fingers tonight I can't rise and silence the whisperings storming the vacant room A moment of love and long silence for years: I lost my sleep over a thought I could not make my own: Watching the waves with him she makes an angle in contemplation: Crazy these people don't know how to go down with the swirl and up with the whirl but play in the raging water They couldn't hide the moon in water or boat but now fish moonlight from sky: I watch their wisdom and smile why I lent my rod and bait A cloud-eagle curves to the haze in the west skimming the sail on soundless sea Digging sand with her little toes the toddler in thin sun awaits her mom from the sea I thought I'd exchange my anxieties for a bit of peace but thinking was easier than happening: I couldn't even sleep Standing at the edge I long to float with waves and wave with instant wind: My hand held out in the dark remained empty: The thought is sin she thinks and denies me sex to protest against my mind in the gutter that breeds erotics in verse The truth of our togetherness is more real when we lie filling our body with each other silencing sensation I fear the demons rising from my body at midnight crowding the mind and leading the soul to deeper darkness Sleeps the night with desires wrapped in blanket — spring in the eyes gods couldn't change the rhythm of the body and its needs Awake in dream time he looks for the candle — love's invitation lighting up in the dark and sings the body's song Whirling and giggling with livelier partners in the pool breathless I can't keep pace with her swim my way to the bank The sleep is buried in sex for diversion yoga or prayers: An insomniac weak with desires and prayers hears the heartbeats rising fast with dark hours survives one more nightmare The chilly twilight- tossing leaves and branches tell of the wind before sunrise she and I cross-legged, cling to each other He watches the mound of dead leaves in the backyard to grow dreams after the end of summer and drought: Muttering Tablet of Ahmad in TV noise he lies on the sofa by window seeking post-lunch nap for change Bored with politics and news of falling sensex he folds the paper and flips through the old PLAYBOYs to see the nudes seen in youth She receives my call complaining why I didn't go to see my father while he says it's alright only gums bleed and joints ache Gentle like a dove love was graceful a night away on the white wave it's a sea searching ways leaps to eternity tonight The bamboo garden we picnicked and made love in is now all concrete — managing environment and pollution control The power goes off suddenly summer heat chokes in bed sleepless she turns undoing a hook or two of her tight bra Wish I could kiss her for letting me hear the angels' whispering new moon rises in Libra promising love and money Greeting the first rains after months of soaring heat the lone rose flutters little petals to the ground echoing our first embrace After days of rain it seems summer again sweating all day now without light at night many thoughts drift like clouds Shining on rose leaves silken layer of dew drops: Roses await sun and wind to clear the baleful fog: I fear she'll say no to my love again I'm no romantic turning sufferings to bliss and delude in heavenly meeting with god or life's grandeur and greatness I'm human and feel their meanness every moment get angry and lose my sleep as the earth writhes in the pain butcher's knives inflict There's little save poetry and prayer to put up with rising darkness in and out and god too is silent Couldn't be happy with my present nor could realize any dreams all these years — there's nothing to look back to say I lived my life well The chart predicts I must keep the company of the righteous but how to find one among the wicked that write our fate Psalms or no psalms workers of iniquity shoot their arrows with praising lips and god flees to see their shrewd schemes Hiding or waiting it raises its head when least expected, a snake glitters in the eyes, looks for the moment to reveal fangs Crudity of the stone conceals grace of nudity the image of Kali reveals to her devotee The sun on a mountain grave illumines the path to divinity unrealized in soul With steel flow the rolling water pierces the rocks shapes them into stars turned into river's song She visits a beauty parlour to erase wrinkles and returns with the same wintry darkness Hanging pictures in bedroom and living room the young couple please each other's eyes leaving box of books for downstairs den The lips in her eyes and long hours in the mouth- no moist secret between us to reveal: All her predictions could come true had I paid her the fees for her writing psychic reflections on dreams I failed to realize in life Wrinkles on the skin remind me of time's passage year by year traveled long distances renewing spirit and waving good bye At the river-front in-drawn with Buddha's image in padmasana eyes half -closed, meditating his eyes not yet opened Stray fungi grow on the broken window frames beside my bed watery smell swells as if a corpse in the river Feeling the difference between a tin house and a weather proof tent: His first winter — recalls swirling snowflakes at Chaluka inside the fibrehut warmth of blue waves surging With black and white marks and nest of ants on its skin the tree grows taller shining through the geometry of sun, moon and halogen My voice brown like autumn crushed in noises I can't understand days pass in colours buried The sea smells from far off leaps to the sky I drive through the maze of returning folks with fresh catch on their head The sun couldn't help nor fish protest: I couldn't understand what's Hindu about having fish and onion after prayers by the river in the temple courtyard Fears to see his own image in her eyes so avoids seeing her again betrays his cowardice They watch her bare back to feel the body through crotch thank engraving pen she loves the etching on skin to enhance nudity Peeling the orange with manicured fingers she slits the rind from top to bottom, separates each section with artistry Dancing on the car top a girl holds the mike to express her love twists the audience Slung-jawed awake two grinning skeletons sit bolt upright in bed hear the shrieks next door but too scared to call the police The nightly ghosts crowd my mind's passage to forge gods' names in disguise I fail to scan the face of thought and life in the dark The chill outside deprives me of the bright moon I breathe in my fears: Night's prisoned friends keep me awake with planes flying over the ashram every now and then I watch the directions matter Unmindful of her body's joy the ascetic absorbed in vision or communion with muse I feel the ripples of fire One thousand miles travelling together in tense silence he and she contemplate the next round of duel I can't cement cracks nor save the frames from collapse: The yellowing patch on the lawn won't green with pesticides — the water infects the roots even if I am drying up here Each night speaks to me in flatulence, wheezing and pain in the legs: With years of rubbish he reeks of aborted dreams lives a stagnant pool cut off from the running source rots in the marsh like a frog They own little earth and seek to auction the sky: Lying all day with pain in the heels and sinking heart I read tanka and wait for miracle to sleep Burning without warmth one more hot and sweaty spell of summer, restless down with stroke, without light, fan exhausted, alone in bed Ageing he thinks of the ashes and the long trip ahead in spirit feels the earth he would become celebrating life New leaves welcome his shadow near the window the telephone rings perhaps to greet Naw Ruz: I didn't pray or keep the fast Like tramps and dogs they piss and shit I see I'm sucked in my own cracks: With moral twists name of god or religion they fly planes to bomb sheep of his pasture and expect grace for humankind Preaching peace explode 'plane bomb, car bomb human bomb and bluff the living corpses with politics of terror They claim to kill satan mass murder innocents and blow themselves up: I wonder how god condones vague prophets and their cult From the border rings he's stationed dangerously: No cakes or cookies to celebrate my birthday this New Year's eve lunar eclipse and blue moon cheer the cup in foggy chill Vibration of thought with their venom in groups my spirit disturbed I lose desire to live here conceal my angst in tanka Their loose tattle or loitering on the street changes nothing not even the hand they wave to penetrate the body Surging like a wave they image in the air and end up wriggling worms hiding through the thick hedges digging the dark undergrowth Is it the water or sweat flowing from the cleft they queue up to drink?
The sun of knowledge shining through the beer bottle under the neem tree: He takes out the letter and writes a poem on its back recalling the last words winds whispered through the stars that still shine in the sky Waving arms of trees conspire with overcast day to drench again the two of us look for shade under leaking umbrella Over the dried moss rains have grown new layers making the path more slippery for all of us falling is a postscript now Laden with new shoots the trees promise mangoes to celebrate summer: Waiting for the remains of sacrifice vultures on the temple tree stink with humans and goddess on the river's bank Awaiting the wave that'll wash away empty hours and endless longing in this dead silence at sea I pull down chunks of sky Two moons so far away yet so near like rain landing gently on my open arms Unknowable the soul's pursuit hidden by its own works: Conveying the inexpressible her lines and curves: Brooding condemning things not done and unable to undo he prays ceaselessly fails to stop now compelled to make a choice Try to sense her in a moment that she's never been I walk with light in hand how will she know it's me?
My legs heavy with pain don't move: When I roll within veins crackle like dried wood breathing is oppressed I can't leave the four walls to survive midnight attack Leisurely the birds keep talking beyond midnight hot humid summer keeps me sleepless too It is for their love of God they play loud music or chant His name on loudspeakers but it kills my peace the whole night I can't sleep Couldn't sleep all night darkness of thought spread over the mind with closed eyes I negotiate fear of missing the train and loss She is so upset with my repressed anger she doesn't sleep with me and questions too why I take alprax when it doesn't suit me An insomniac meditates at night and says: Short nights and long days sleep loss rustles a friction echoing in bed the cycle of cravings over and over again In his ochre robe the rebel sanyasin says he'll drop his ego like the skin's layers torn off and starts peeling an orange Did I kill a snake or do I pass forked urine the astrologer asks to calculate my future I tell him no and yes Unable to see beyond the nose he says he meditates and sees vision of Buddha weeping for us Resting his chin on the back of his palms he stands at the dusted railing to watch the planes roar and take off Silence of birds and moon so miserly I feel homesick: On the roof top she waits for her man with moon cake and lantern: Rises with the lingering shadow of the dream: Pie-eyed from the back door enters concealing smell from his sweetheart The maid fans burnt coal and dried twigs fire to make tea for her hubby lying in sun and shouting Filled with worries all her dreams in one basket- runs to catch the train sand and mud dried on hands ghost fish biting the lungs Burns spiders' net with incense stick in the alcove paper deity unmoved by prayers for safe sojourn in the new city In their drunken chant lurks divinity, the joy let loose in rhythm roses colour the spirit drowsily lost and regained It's prayer to sink into her flesh and bury myself in her breast to escape the faithless hands that never became mother Seeks music in love's masturbating keys at his bed's foot the breath of God lies forked like a tongue of briars The cocktail of drink drug and meditation- nightly yelps tease unshared guilt the hell of silence Transparent in a one-piece dress she tiptoes waving from the window not seeing him leave I love her undress the light with eyes that spring passion with kisses she leaves her name again for my breath to pass through It's not ageing but eternal delight: The beads of sweat on her breasts do not touch her years or face in candle light her shadow is more restrained than my thought A mist covers the valley of her body leaves memories like the shiver of cherry in dreamy January Watching the moon in the western horizon two haiku poets scratch each other's back and mock the rest as neophytes Once so intimate now uncomfortable strangers smile at each other in the party no one says my name even once At the crowded window implores the clerk to process his papers but he ignores, irritates at the end, abuses A black dog moves freely among reporters lying on the ground to shoot militants in Taj resisting the commandos Amidst trees without fruits and the rising jungle flowers a seasonal grace in colours coexist with disfiguring autumn Whatever the rut they mate without the season ejaculating hatred from their mouths and stink- their cum doesn't turn me on Covering with soil their ill will excreted from the anus at my gate in the morning even sun despises villainy Love runs awry in the name of Holi yields to revelry of colour and sex: Delayed monsoon may now come early and quench earth's thirst with respite from heat and power cut: I smell wetness in the air Fear of rain and driver's non-arrival at night spoils the cool drizzle this evening can't relish even the drink No one gives him what he needs after a day's hard work in lab — a lover, a good night's sleep and it passes again, waiting Eternity too short to quench love He walks down the aisle looking for the nave to kneel and slide out After prolonged heat wave sky watery explosion earth lovely doom Seasonal change viral suffering, realignment with doctor's bill Each morning the sun shines through window panes, revives the dream for verses Smell of kamini in front of my house excites: Each stone, drop, pebble waste of life in worldly self: In the darkness of backyard he searches his shadow: I stir the water to pierce clouds in it: He has no wind-rope to tie waves in the net: She reads my age in the synthetic dark of moustache and whitening chest Willow summer-sways its bough half-rests on the pole light goes off again Silence is sound in the blank of unthinking mind poetry is peace The child lost in letters and numbers spins new designs She waves a quick smile from her new Maruti— tyres screech The sun vanished in the blue morning couldn't last the flower's smile He sees the ape in the glass self-satisfied his own image The blue white dapples on the canvas seeing the eye of silence Sipping gin he says he loves sex each night but hates the smell They are skinny but skilful, can't be swatted: He sweeps yellow leaves or gathers years in a heap burns to merge with dust After hours of power-cut cobwebs in the room swing in thanks My bedroom a maze of cobweb spiders breed The red light is on: In nightly silence glides the airbus through the clouds trail of white smoke After sleepless night a drowsy sun tears the morning sky A lamp floating on river breast in bridal grace waves in the gloaming Looking for Taj in grains through sand storm find history trapped between toes Shining from the blade of grass a drop on earth's breast: I know waves that roar I live through silence of shore: I felt her fingers the strings of my son's guitar unplayed for a long time After hurried lovemaking we drift to sleep: Flickers of peace hide god in heart like running brook love in nudity Monsoon shower after a long heat wave monotony breaks Ripe on the branches mangoes fall one by one end of the season Coal grows golden each moment in quiet corners raw wind singes It hangs like a drop any moment evaporates love is gullible Morning mist rests on a swathe of pond lone fish looks for sun The moon glows and heat wave all through night scalds leaves kills butterflies The mynahs herald the day clamouring for moths Vacating the house he leaves four decades no thanks to any Not age but years of worries — his furrowed face The leaves sway to fly like birds free in the sky Long forgotten the beginning and the end: He closes the eyes expanding inner space a short-cut tour Looking lovingly she bends his head down to hers twines like a creeper Unable to change time my watch doesn't move moment at will The rains wash the paints that hide the face The frog in mirror slips by damp towel cold sets in slippy hands Half -fleshed faces track from behind the windows rawness of journey Falling chalk over head clouds understanding: Rains leave soil soft — seeds sprout with first sun pearly dawns Frosted faces dissolve in stale rain clutching female body We lie together filling our body with each other's sensation Celebrating forgettable memories at public expense A star shines bright beside the crescent moon: Shaking hands couldn't part with the henna on her palms Reluctant to climb the spiral staircase- bathing in kitchen Measures loneliness sip by sip at dining table From the alcove removes faded flowers and kills black ants 8.
Thick dust on leaves unwashed by rains for days- stagnant time Oleander and hibiscus blaze with passion- making love in sun Two wolves smell the carcass in field heat wave chills Dust storm this evening- end of the mango season without tasting fruit Throwing stones at unripe mangoes- two urchins Couldn't keep freshness of leaf in water The first rains coming back from the desert home- plateau souvenir One more empty day but in the mailbox a hint of hope tomorrow Where shall I keep the thirty years junk if I go elsewhere?
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- Human Rights Poetry and the Poetics of Nonhuman Being | Social Text | Duke University Press.
- Full text of "SENSE AND SILENCE: COLLECTED POEMS".
A sad soul under the mango— my husband Ending the night's long journey her short story Patterns of hair block the flow: Cooking smoke waves to the afternoon sun: Chilly night no soul on the road guard at gate Welcoming the sun dew drops on dry leaves-- an epitaph After the walk two women relax on bench exchanging tensions After cleaning the maid leaves behind an oily smell A tiny spider on the marigold sucking its golden hue Seeking its roots around oleander leaves custard-apple A Christ crucified with the violence of music in the hall After the party empty chairs in the lawn new moon and I A dead voice calling up at dawn: Such a wild change in the mirror beside her- I look a stranger Stoops to set pleats of her saree mid-August Meeting her once and so much love in one night to last the whole life Each sun aggravates sadness moment by moment: Narrowly escape the midair web of spider perched on hibiscus After extraction he gives me my old tooth list of drugs and new bill Collecting fallen twigs on road half -clad women Palms waving to greet the first rain of the season: I wait in the room Craving for a lick of the salt on her skin to become one with her Desire for diamond dies with price I can't afford: Wish I could be part of the quietude this morning: Between virgin curves he deep-breathes evening mist rests in the hollow A load of wood on her frail back autumn evening Their shadows dissolve and reappear walking along the river On a cycle he sells bouquets and roses peddling dreams A watchman gazes the stars on her body elements clack Alone on the platform wait for the train swatting mosquitoes Scars of existence- wintry sun and chilly night crouching on footpath A dead man couldn't keep standing- lies in dust Knocking emptiness I cross the valleys within now stand at stone gate Love's beauty happening in the soul God presence Silence of class test occasion for haiku thoughts lost in lecture To give voice to stone he chisels the soul-image Krishna plays the flute A lamp on the river— the breast in bridal grace waving in the gloaming In the spring sun the lone pomegranate tree smiling with buds The blue-white dapples on the canvass seeing the eye of silence The mirror is so small I can't see the ocean beyond my own look Silent Ram sheds tears over the bodies burnt in temple's name Violence breeders climb power ladder- peace stings Tears invisible on his water face Buddha meditates Through long shadows in the morning remembering gradual death After the 'plane bomb stuck between concrete rubbles a mother and child In the naked grave some flesh still clings to the bones: Lost in black box he searches love to live- smoulders in ash They still bomb lands for peace repeat August 6 They kill and hide in mosques pray, in fear kill more, and flee To hunt the hunters flames mate with flames- touch the sky Her presence- alien sensation in my veins In my courtyard swoop neem, peepal, cheeku leaves: Between her fingers and lips swaying some puffed rice Still fresh in the hanky's fold- jasmine Soft footsteps of students bunking class test Her smile arrival of spring at the bower A butterfly restless over the other trying to console Ahead of us-- racing hyacinths in the river Two lizards inside the switchboard turned on Two of us at the waterfall spraying love The whole night waiting for the train running late drowsy sunrise The night queen fragrance seeps in from the windows my bedroom blooms She snuggles up in my arms her dimples joy of heaven Her birth- a poem dancing in the eyes Swirling spiral of her skirt spills tides of dream and memory Echoes of night song flutter our embrace in bed: Drowsy day waning sex and love- seasonal trick Unattached- drop of water on lotus leaf Baked and cracked the sugarcane field melts into mud Receding winter leaves behind allergies One more year hanged with calendar- a new god Picking at a dead frog on the road- a crow A crow picks at cow's back in the afternoon- drooping rag-picker Green velvet from gate to door- monsoon end A moving train- confined in water bottle rhythmic ripplets Two toads croaking in the drain celebrate sudden shower Chased by a cat a rat sinking into the sand Sculpturing psyche in the city of dumb dreams: Elements clack in the small house shudder the harp and strings God, the first victim in the divided city: Basking in the past they grow backward and yet talk about the future Tattooed on her back a nude exhibits a nude- FTV model Cut wrongly each body a slave- grey faces Tainted tongues weave mazes to stop birth of light Continuing after ejaculation-- anti-climax Her wet lingerie reveals more than her body— I drown in her sea A stray sperm grows in the ovum blooms as puffball Winter chill- her face grows more wrinkles I see a finger point to the eye in her breast mist lingers on lips No letters today- addresses of his dead friends greying in diary With changing weather they look for sun and shade both: She resents remembering allah in her car In the class test etching nudes on the desk two late comers Night bombing oleander garden white as death Vultures waiting for the remains of sacrifice on the temple tree Seeking for the white of the sky in your closed eyes It's still overcast fumes rise from smouldering ashes- terrorists' attack But that meeting place isn't represented; it doesn't occur on the canvas.
For the other side of the bay is Heaven and Eternity, with a bleak white haze over its mountains. And the immense water of L'Estaque is a go-between for minute rowboats. It is because the air Is full of writing, because the wave is still: That we know for certain, and what was left behind-- a store-bought ladder, a broken window, and fifty-one seconds of videotape, abstract as an overture.
But we can envision moonlight coming in through the broken window, casting a bright shape over everything--the paintings, the floor tiles, the velvet ropes: The policemen, lost as tourists, stand whispering in the galleries: Her poetry is out of print. She is not included in the online Australian Poetry Library and there is very little academic interest in her work. Perhaps now is the time to rediscover the voice of this dynamically forthright and leading mid-twentieth century poet and publisher.
An Australian Journal of Ecopoetry and Ecopoetics
One scholar who researched the artistic career of Grace Perry is Dot Jensen. Jensen also wrote the entry on Perry for the Australian Dictionary of Biography. Along with supporting other poets, Perry published eight collections of her own. In her publishing ventures, and in her own creative writing, Perry was a leading presence standing apart from the traditionalist regard for formal line and classical modes as represented by such contemporaries as James McAuley and A.
Hope and in turning to American poetry especially to William Carlos Williams for new models of expression. Perry, for example, once advised the young John Tranter: Bruce Beaver, for example, while expressing much admiration for Perry also agrees with John Tranter that she was utterly independent: Les Murray worked with Perry at her journal Poetry Australia in the late s and s before he too had a personal disagreement with her.
7 Poems About Famous Artworks — Google Arts & Culture
The peculiarity of Grace was that she had two voices. She had a kind of out-going extrovert charm and good humour and bounding energy that was expressed in one voice, and occasionally, mostly at poetry readings, when she read her poetry, there was a strange, lost-little-girl voice that she used to read in … that was the personality that wrote her poems Alexander , Such an approach to poetic craft sounds remarkably contemporary and deserving of renewed assessment.
Considering the importance of William Carlos Williams on the development of avant-garde poetry in Australia during the s and s, Livio Dobrez writes:. Unfortunately, in illustrating this influence, he confines his attention to male poets: It is arguable, however, that none did more than Grace Perry — in her publishing ventures and in her writing — to see that it was the American model — especially Williams — which set the pace for radically transforming Australian poetry.
In her early poetry she often explored this medical experience with all the impressionistic precision of William Carlos Williams.
7 Poems About Famous Artworks
Perry juxtaposes the use of traditional quatrains and rhyming schemes with an original and dramatic personification of a serious medical condition, all the while maintaining a subtly comic tone. I find this poem unforgettable: In her mature work, Perry moves in a more experimental direction, as she employs unpunctuated free-forms with a greater stress on spontaneity, even embracing a degree of irrationality as part of her imagist technique. This movement follows the example of William Carlos Williams. In describing this new movement in poetry — to which Perry belonged both as poet and publisher — Chris Wallace-Crabbe observes:.
This verse is extremely free, the syntax is commonplace … Moreover, the verse follows no rational logic but that of the concurrence of observed images, images which are set down with a distinct immediate vividness Wallace-Crabbe, cited by McAuley , At the same time, Perry is a poet who locates the human as part of nature as complex biological system and not as separate, or above, nature.
- Poplars Stripped Bare: Mental Health and other Catastrophes in the Poetry of Grace Perry.
- Freaksome Tales.
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She draws much of her imagery from the natural world of the rural Southern Highlands of NSW where she lived on a cattle and sheep stud from the late s until her death. They are praised, however, in order to explore her human concerns.