13 Ergebnisse.

Unexpected challenges to my self-confidence and then reading The Order of Time by Carlo Rovelli sent me on an exploration of time and memory. Rovelli took my understanding of time to pieces from a physics perspective and put it back together again from a philosophical one. I've been aware for years of those famous words of Descartes - 'I think, therefore I am.' Rovelli is saying something similar, that it is our memories that make us who we ar...

The almost inescapable presence of TV advertising and social media in our lives means we are being constantly bombarded by information. News can be about devastation by natural forces, or the unspeakable atrocities of man's inhumanity to his fellow beings. We are exposed to the appalling behaviour of so-called world leaders and wonder why our young people find it so hard to believe in anything. Closer to home we struggle with broken relationsh...

Vivid memories prompted by hearing a few stray notes playing sent me wandering through my very rich life to renew my love of particular pieces of music and songs. When I started writing poems, I recognised that, for me, music is like ekphrastic poetry. A composer responds to something and in turn there is my response to the composer. From my own experiences, I was reminded how my mental image or emotional response to a piece of music was not n...

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I write to make it real.' How often I have said that over the years? I didn't make it up to sound clever, it is what I do and who I am. In a life filled to overflowing with richness and challenges, there has been much to write about and I have. Flower Child was born when I was thrust unexpectedly back sixty-something years into my childhood by the perfume of a flower in a quiet room. Flower Child is a tiny glimpse of a time, the place and some...

Everyone has a story. It would be foolish indeed to make comparisons, for there is always someone better or worse off than oneself. However, there is a comforting and healing sense of kinship with others who have had similar experiences. Even death, that, which we call the last act of our play, does not end a story. Everyone who has existed, no matter how briefly, affects someone else for the rest of their life. They affect others and so the s...

We were enjoying a blissful life, making the most of every day. I, the poet, was still rather bemused by the freedoms of retirement and Stephen was doing what he loves - publishing. Our idyll was rudely interrupted when we were told that Stephen had cancer. We were suddenly thrust into an unaccustomed world. This is not a horror story. Stephen relied on stoicism and determination to get through. The poet wrote her way through a harsh reality a...

Lives hold promise and promises. Keeping one promise might mean breaking another, for life is anything but simple. I had promised myself I would not go back to England - or, if I did, I would stay there. I did not want to pull myself up by the roots to leave it again. But I also promised Stephen that I would go anywhere with him. We had often spoken of going to England - his daughter still lived there - but we were both mindful of my promise t...

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A collection of lively recollections about the author's life in Port Adelaide and travels through Australia, mixing warm humour with sharp observations. The author is an acclaimed poet and non-fiction writer, and editor of the Ginninderra Press Pocket Poets series.

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