This image first appeared on Instagram
This poem was first published in SpeedPoets Vol. 9.7 (September 2010)
and presented during the Overload Poetry Festival Short Poetry Ticker, September 2010
This image first appeared on Instagram
This poem was first published in SpeedPoets Vol. 9.7 (September 2010)
and presented during the Overload Poetry Festival Short Poetry Ticker, September 2010
At a trash ‘n’ treasure market,
in an average town,
an old radio
encased in bakelite.
Plugged in &
waiting for the valves to warm
I took to the dial with a frothing sense of urgency,
twisting past horse races & rock & roll,
past right wing commentary,
. searching for the frequency of God,
long lost in digital audio,
. sure to be found
in the silver soldered
magic of a romanticised time.
. & there
at the end
of the amplitude modulated band,
. megahertz away from any generic noise,
. a perfect silence.
Published in Windmills, Fifth Edition, November 2010
Published in Best Australian Poems 2011
Published in Notes for Translators 2012, December 2012
Published on robbiecoburn.com
Published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017
. She fell
like a therm-
ometer
in winter
. the weight
of the fight
too much to
stand under
. i watched
her smile flat-
line and it
was over
. the white sheets lay still
Published in Page Seventeen, Issue 8, November 2010
Read clockwise (or anti-clockwise, if you prefer)
Published in REM Magazine, Volume 1, November 2010
Republished on Letter.Box.Stamp.Collect, July 2013
At the end of a life spent in utter pride
what questions linger in the dormant mind,
what life of chosen solitude led,
that would end in silence with no tears shed.
In ageing years when support is sought
from those whose love in frail arms caught,
what sorrow is absent from deathly bed
when a life could pass with no tears shed.
In distant home, in sufferance lied,
among strangers a woman gave up and died,
what hope of remorse when all prayers said,
when a family remains fractured, the mother is dead,
and a life passes in silence with no tears shed.
But though these stanzas have you crucified
it would be false to say that I never cried,
I hold onto tears for what I never had,
as your life passes by me one tear I shed.
Published in Underground, Issue 4, September 2010
Published in The Frequency of God, Close-Up Books, December 2017