New and Selected PoemsAcclaim for Salom's poetry- Sky Poems- there has been nothing quite like these poems in Australian poetry before ... Sky Poemsshould be read by anyone who cars for scope and scale in poetry, and who enjoys language at full stretch. Peter Porter The Projectionist- a richly fruitful experience - a voyage of poetic discovery. Bruce Beaver, Weekend Australian |
From inside the book
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Page 125
... hands , loose and everywhere , hands . They flicker on her hide like flames . She lumbers off . The calf is twice as big . I look down at my own hands - they're smudged with the flame . In no time the beast has grown huge and flat ...
... hands , loose and everywhere , hands . They flicker on her hide like flames . She lumbers off . The calf is twice as big . I look down at my own hands - they're smudged with the flame . In no time the beast has grown huge and flat ...
Page 213
... hand that feeds me ? Ouch ! Because the question is - which hand ? The staus quo ? Or the hand I work and live by ... hands . And there's nuts that can make a macaw crack on its colours like a Chinese bowl , and there's nuts with ...
... hand that feeds me ? Ouch ! Because the question is - which hand ? The staus quo ? Or the hand I work and live by ... hands . And there's nuts that can make a macaw crack on its colours like a Chinese bowl , and there's nuts with ...
Page 259
... hands . Or memories of war , of Syria , men now dead walking through the sunlight like an extra line of heartbeats you've kept inside your chest . I'd like to say there's light , dawnlight , and through it you'll come striding home ...
... hands . Or memories of war , of Syria , men now dead walking through the sunlight like an extra line of heartbeats you've kept inside your chest . I'd like to say there's light , dawnlight , and through it you'll come striding home ...
Common terms and phrases
Anthony Caro arms Australian Australian Book Review BENJAMIN BRITTEN beside blood blue body bonang breasts breath cold colour dark dead death door dream drunk dying empty eyes face fall fear feel filled fingers fish flame flesh ghosts glass gleaming gone green hair Hallaj hands head hear heart heat Hermit Crab images inside JUSSI BJORLING legs lift light lines live look lovers move Mullewa naked never Newcastle Poetry Prize night pain past PHILIP SALOM poems poet poetry Pol Pot primal scream rain river shock shoulders silence singing skin slow smell someone sound spin spine stare stone strange street Sufis sunlight there's things Thylacine Tiger beer touch trees turn Venice verismo voice waiting walk walls watch wayang wheels wind window woman women words