Pear
Pear
This pear, battered by the soft pads
of gentle fingers—pickers, packers
lifting it out of the bin, and the supermarket
checker also careful—it looks so old,
painted a dozen coats of greens, yellows, reds,
and bruises here and there, its label with a tab
that peels off cleanly, without ripping the skin—
this pear sitting here, or standing, if you prefer,
on the bamboo chopping board, bears itself with the dignity
of one who can boast My great-great-great-grandpère
was painted by Cézanne. He had decomposed
(before Cézanne got the composition right)
into a mushy brown lump, though Cézanne still
saw him fresh off the tree, unblemished, ripe,
a Still Life, its life stilled as nearly forever
as man and pear may achieve together.
John Ridland
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