Hey Max do they get the poetry and comedy nights, crab racing and a cockatoo
in a cage confused??
Cheers P
-----Original Message-----
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Max Richards
Sent: 26 August 2012 10:33
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: sydney morning herald: poetry is back big-time
The crasher
Date
August 10, 2012
Sacha Molitoritz
Read later
Break out the bongos and berets - poetry is back big-time.For people who
like to get out and about, these are thrilling times. It's a big call, but
I'm prepared to make it: never has there been a more dynamic period for
entertainment. Culturally, this is as good as it gets.
One word - poetry. The early adopters know it: poetry will be to the summer
of 2012-13 what pump-up basketball boots were to the summer of 1990-91.
Maybe more.
On a recent Sunday afternoon, I visited the Friend in Hand Pub in Glebe for
the launch of a book titled Collusion. Its author is Brook Emery but I know
him better as Mr Emery.
He was my English teacher at high school, and I think he invited me to ease
his conscience. As far as I can tell, it's his main career regret that one
of his pupils went on to become a journalist.
''Present, sir,'' I replied.
As far as pubs go, the Friend in Hand is like an outback hotel plonked
incongruously in the heart of Sydney.
It has comedy nights, crab racing and a cockatoo in a cage. It has meat
raffles and a No Names restaurant.
And it has poetry events. The Friend in Hand is to poets what Rome's
Colosseum was to lions. A place where verse can roar.
The launch was held upstairs, amid the comfy couches and slanted sunlight,
where an attentive crowd of more than 100 celebrated wordplay. ''Make Poetry
History'', said a T-shirt.
The climax was Emery's reading. There was imagery. There was alliteration.
There was onomatopoeia. It had been a long time since I'd thought about
onomatopoeia. Such a remarkable thing. More than any word I know, it comes
closest to including every vowel in one syllable.
The stanzas washed over me in beautiful, melancholy waves.
''I suppose we're all the same, every now and then suspect the world might
be communal story, syntax the ship we sail from Serendib to Sydney.''
Later, I bought a copy and showed my wife. ''Look,'' I said. ''Brook's
book!''
Some days I swear I'm inhabited by the spirit of T.S. Eliot.
Read more:
http://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/about-town/the-crasher-20120809-23v7d.ht
ml#ixzz24dvP7hXF=
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