SKIPPING GIRL & Kurilpa Poets


Skipping Girl

Skipping girl comes down the stairs

All skinny legs

and Smiles at me,

She seems to be all

Awkward angles,

At other times she glides with grace.


The rhythm of her body has

its own odd kind of logic

when she moves

in counter point

To the stillness of her face.


She is a drummer-girl,

and when she drums she then trance-forms

into some pagan goddess, yes

a grinning voodoo idol carved

onto the sinister side of some

Blood blackened jungle drum.


A mass or maybe mess of contradictions

though she be,

Her hooded eyes they haunt me, yes

they haunt me all the while.


But the Biggest Mystery might be,

Why it is I feel the need

To always see her smile.



Kurilpa Poets; Sunday 26th September, 2010


At the Croquet Club, Musgrave park, 91 Cordelia street.


So I ambled on down to the Kurilpa poets latest venue to see Peter Hines, gentleman Poet, and perhaps speak a few words to the faithful.

The Kurilpa Poets have been going through a transition phase this past year, and that includes many venue changes. This perhaps accounts in part for the dissappointingl;y small crowd there on Sunday. But what was lacking in numbers was made up for in spirit, and we all settled our chairs in a old fashioned reading circle and took our turn telling our tales.

Its certainly worth the effort to find their current (and hopefully permanent)venue. Set in scenic Musgrave Park at the end of a long avenue of trees, the croquet clubs informal charms also boast an old fashioned pergola. I can see a tea and scones poetry event coming up this summer.

Kurilpa poets should also be congratulated for jumping all the funding hurdles and achieving every poet/artists dream; a government grant. Spend it wisely my children, its good to see some money for poetry going out beyond the usual narrow circle for a change.

Anyhoo I’m writing this a week after the event and my notes are a bit vague but lets see how we go. Recall I walked in just in time for Peters first poem. Now peter as I’ver mentioned is a perfect gent in a loud blue Hawain shirt, reading poems that could almost be characterised as naïve or primitivist, but theres a clarity in the simplicity of his verses that often shines thru.

Foxes are not known for their generosity” he tells us, also,

dawn had broken dishes over the mountains

He gives us an ode to skinny dipping in the dark and a poem about the forbidden political incorrect golliwog that sounds like an Edwardian coming of age nightmare, as well as a comic piece on a sniffer dog with a crotch sniffing problem.

We sir in a circle and swap our poems. Its like an old fashioned prayer meeting. I give them my Flirting poem and Girls with Guns. A lady from Lismore whose name I’ve forgotten speaks about “vertical laughter” and tells us about seeing towering California Redwoods that survive earthquakes.

Marilyn favoured us with a Henry lawson piece “The Last Day we went Swimming.”.Bill Henderson read his poem Meat Mart,

where he’s “hoping your concave and he’s convex” (or was it the other way around?)

Mad Jeffrey, one of poetry’s true believers, drew a couple of tender sonnets out of the enormous word hoard he carries around in his head. Just a bit slower when you read though, mate. Vij, a bit louder mate. There was a poem about studying Greek in Cambridge in the sixteenth century; “my parishioners love having a vicar who can row” Who said that?

Accident and malice/fill the poison chalice.

and who said that? Was it me. A phrase about “electro-tagging turtles” got stuck in my head. Outside the sun was horizontal with the windows.

The wine was empty. We’d shared our words.

Home I stumbled along the avenue of leaves.

Kurilpa Poets, last Sunday of every month, 2pm. Come along next month for a friendly, informal afternoon with some great poetry.

Bring your own poems. Bring a friend. Hell, bring an enemy and then devastate them with a withering satire so’s they can never lift their face in public again!

Peace y’all.



~ by reverendhellfire on October 3, 2010.

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