Kenneth Slessor

(27 March 1901 – 30 June 1971 / Orange, New South Wales)

Kenneth Slessor Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. Rubens' Innocents 4/1/2010
2. Mephistopheles Perverted 4/1/2010
3. To Myself 4/1/2010
4. Toilet Of A Dandy 4/1/2010
5. Undine 4/1/2010
6. Winter Dawn 4/1/2010
7. Music 4/1/2010
8. La Dame Du Palais De La Reine 4/1/2010
9. Metempsychosis 4/1/2010
10. Taoist 4/1/2010
11. Trade Circular 4/1/2010
12. Talbingo 4/1/2010
13. Vesper-Song Of The Reverend Samuel Marsden 4/1/2010
14. To The Poetry Of Hugh Mccrae 4/1/2010
15. Realities 4/1/2010
16. The Old Play 4/1/2010
17. The Atlas 4/1/2010
18. New Magic 4/1/2010
19. Next Turn 4/1/2010
20. The Ghost 4/1/2010
21. Rubens' Hell 4/1/2010
22. The Country Ride 4/1/2010
23. The Nabob 4/1/2010
24. Lesbia's Daughter 4/1/2010
25. Marco Polo 4/1/2010
26. Serenade 4/1/2010
27. Waters 4/1/2010
28. Thieves' Kitchen 4/1/2010
29. Last Trams 4/1/2010
30. Pan At Lane Cove 4/1/2010
31. Advice To Psychologists 4/1/2010
32. Crustacean Rejoinder 4/1/2010
33. Nuremberg 4/1/2010
34. To A Friend 4/1/2010
35. Wild Grapes 4/1/2010
36. A Surrender 4/1/2010
37. In A/C With Ghosts 4/1/2010
38. Sensuality 4/1/2010
39. Adventure Bay 4/1/2010
40. Stars 4/1/2010
Best Poem of Kenneth Slessor

Five Bells

Time that is moved by little fidget wheels
Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.
Between the double and the single bell
Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells
From the dark warship riding there below,
I have lived many lives, and this one life
Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells.

Deep and dissolving verticals of light
Ferry the falls of moonshine down. Five bells
Coldly rung out in a machine's voice. Night and water
Pour to one rip of darkness, the Harbour floats
In the air, the Cross hangs upside-down in water. ...

Read the full of Five Bells

Five Bells

Time that is moved by little fidget wheels
Is not my time, the flood that does not flow.
Between the double and the single bell
Of a ship's hour, between a round of bells
From the dark warship riding there below,
I have lived many lives, and this one life
Of Joe, long dead, who lives between five bells.

Deep and dissolving verticals of light

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