highlyeccentric (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
highlyeccentric) wrote2013-01-12 11:34 am
highlyeccentric) wrote2013-01-12 11:34 am
Entry tags:
Whoo poetry!
OK, so, three people think it's a good idea! I like good ideas. I hereby state an intention to post 5 poems a week in 2013!.
Note to LJ'ers: after this, poetry posts will not be crossposted to LJ. They'll be public at highlyeccentric.dreamwidth.org - add to your blog readers if you want to join in. :) Comment using openID if so you desire.
To celebrate, a poem I posted at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
poetry at the end of last year:
Pointless
John Pfitzner
For Graham, who is mad on sport
but sees no use for poetry.
You're right, there's no point
to poetry. It's useless
as a Michael Clarke cover drive
with dancing footwork,
body balanced, head steady,
weight gliding to the front foot,
the almost lazy sweep of the bat,
the perfect timing and rhythm,
the flow of the follow-through,
the seemingly effortless elegance,
which changes nothing, adds nothing
to the sum of human knowledge,
rights no wrongs, cures no diseases,
provides no food for the starving,
as pointless as a poem
with language that dances down the pitch,
gives itself room and launches
its outrageous idea, its subtle
observation high over midwicket
and into the members stand
with perfect timing, rhythm and
seemingly effortless eloquence.
- From 'Best Australian Poems 2012' ed. John Tranter
Note to LJ'ers: after this, poetry posts will not be crossposted to LJ. They'll be public at highlyeccentric.dreamwidth.org - add to your blog readers if you want to join in. :) Comment using openID if so you desire.
To celebrate, a poem I posted at
poetry at the end of last year:Pointless
John Pfitzner
For Graham, who is mad on sport
but sees no use for poetry.
You're right, there's no point
to poetry. It's useless
as a Michael Clarke cover drive
with dancing footwork,
body balanced, head steady,
weight gliding to the front foot,
the almost lazy sweep of the bat,
the perfect timing and rhythm,
the flow of the follow-through,
the seemingly effortless elegance,
which changes nothing, adds nothing
to the sum of human knowledge,
rights no wrongs, cures no diseases,
provides no food for the starving,
as pointless as a poem
with language that dances down the pitch,
gives itself room and launches
its outrageous idea, its subtle
observation high over midwicket
and into the members stand
with perfect timing, rhythm and
seemingly effortless eloquence.
- From 'Best Australian Poems 2012' ed. John Tranter
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