Geoffrey Donald Page

Geoffrey Donald Page Poems

A (more-or-less-well-meaning) giant
is stumbling round the world.
To signify esprit de corps
he wears his flag unfurled.
...

1.
I think I could turn awhile and write like the Americans,
they are so at ease in their syllables, irregular as eyelids,
various as the sea.
...

Now, on the other side of sixty,
You're like an open field.
Soon the disabilities
...

When all the other clerks have gone
he¹s flicking through his set of cards.
Every fleck of black is in them.
...

In dreams they give you lines each night,
the Stalinists, the Taliban,
in trench coats or in holy white.
So, too, the mullahs of Iran.
...

My mother's God
has written the best
of the protestant proverbs:
...

Lost in a field of
friendly melons

tossed in a vat of
thickened cream
...

That bikie with his
girl as pillion,
that kelpie in his
...

Perversity is de rigueur,
that ‘feeling-good-by-feeling-ill',
the pleasure of self-laceration.
...

This synod is convinced that the forces
of the Allies are being used of God to
vindicate the rights of the weak and to
...

The story keeps on coming back,
a man my father knew,
that grazier across the river
up north a mile or two,
...

These softly wafting floaters are
a minor blessing age supplies
to couple with your tinnitus —
first the ears and then the eyes.
...

Seeing people who remind you
just a little of the dead
is always mildly disconcerting —
...

A Carlton bank clerk, back from work,
is turning through the Argus,
his new wife, maidless, at the stove.
...

Every now and then you see him,
replayed on his slice of footage,
somewhere in the opening days —
...

One thinks of how the details must converge,
the storytellers' small manipulations
across the wild millennia of firelight,
...

They don't pursue the food or sugar.
Mostly they appear by night
to scurry on a reach of lino
or scuttle up the walls of cupboards.
...

Wide-shot sea of doldrum-blue.
Distant voices, slant and dried.
Fishing-boat with figures long-shot.
He passed him by on the other side.
...

I heard the timbre, not the grammar,
the words and phrases flying by,
the textures and the sheer momentum,
...

Assisting police with their enquiries
rarely gives too much away.
Its rhythm is a little wiry
but there are rules it must obey:
...

Geoffrey Donald Page Biography

Geoff Page, born 7 July 1940 in Grafton, Australia, is an Australian poet who has published eighteen collections of poetry as well as two novels, four verse novels and several other works including anthologies, translations and a biography of the jazz musician, Bernie McGann. He retired at the end of 2001 from being in charge of the English Department at Narrabundah College in the ACT, a position he had held since 1974. He has won several awards, including the ACT Poetry Award, the Grace Leven Prize, the Christopher Brennan Award, the Queensland Premier’s Prize for Poetry and the 2001 Patrick White Literary Award. Selections from his work have been translated into Chinese, Hindi, German, Serbian, Slovenian and Greek. He has also read his work and talked on Australian poetry in Switzerland, Germany, Ireland, Norway, Sweden, Great Britain, Italy, Spain, Serbia, Slovenia, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Austria, Hungary, India, Singapore, China, Korea, the United States and New Zealand.)

The Best Poem Of Geoffrey Donald Page

Dancing with the Flag

A (more-or-less-well-meaning) giant
is stumbling round the world.
To signify esprit de corps
he wears his flag unfurled.

He lumbers here; he lumbers there;
he wishes he'd stayed put.
The scorpions he's kicked by chance
are nipping at his foot.

They¹re biting on his ankle now;
they¹re midway up his calf.
Though more-or-less intending good
he can't do things by half.

He has the power to smear the lot
at one step with his boots
or tear his row of troubles up
like turnips by the roots.

The problem is his head's too high;
It's too far off ground.
He kicks a rock by accident
and, look, see what he's found

scorpions with fiery tails
and very narrow views.
It's hard for giants to win, of course,
but, equally, to lose.

Our giant will never understand
the reasons for such hate.
Scorpions are made that way.
It¹s surely just his fate

to stagger hugely round the world.
We buy it with the size.
He's really well-intentioned but
He'll never quite be wise.

No matter how the battle goes
his feet begin to drag.
It's hard work wearing size eighteens
and dancing with the flag.

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