Nana Ollerenshaw: Three Poems
Streetbird
Brush turkeys have migrated from the brush
to take up their new habitat with us
like pigeons must have once
and sparrows who share coffee.
They peck on asphalt now.
Megapodes don’t need
their giant feet for this.
But something’s sad about them,
unconnected to a place where they were wild once,
the peaty earth their own, leaf mounds,
stars on forest nights
exchanged for this concrete.
Nana Ollerenshaw
Men on Bikes
Bikes lean
stopped at cafes
where the men
hang out, brothers
bright as birds,
shorts that show
the curve of braided muscle,
sculptured thigh.
Who knows how far
behind them lies
the ribbon of their wheels
from years of sharing talk
roads and sweat,
dawns, fatigue,
a spank of tyre on the wet.
Yesterday’s Bike Ride
The blue day lingers
after the gravel road,
the hills,
the valley filled with cane,
after the country homes,
the cluck of fowl,
the scrunch of tyres
and always the road
spelling the heat and the distance,
suspended in dust,
cycling on, part of the day,
part of the sun,
part of the sweat, the dirt
and the land we’ve become,
taking it with us.
Nana Ollerenshaw
Madam: Archbishop Fisher (July-August 2024) does not resist the attacks on his church by the political, social or scientific atheists and those who insist on not being told what to do.
Aug 29 2024
6 mins
To claim Aborigines have the world's oldest continuous culture is to misunderstand the meaning of culture, which continuously changes over time and location. For a culture not to change over time would be a reproach and certainly not a cause for celebration, for it would indicate that there had been no capacity to adapt. Clearly this has not been the case
Aug 20 2024
23 mins
A friend and longtime supporter of Quadrant, Clive James sent us a poem in 2010, which we published in our December issue. Like the Taronga Park Aquarium he recalls in its 'mocked-up sandstone cave' it's not to be forgotten
Aug 16 2024
2 mins