Poetry in Ink

You can find him on the Commonwealth War Graves register: www.cwgc.org/find-records...

"The Heart To Carry On", Bertram Warr
DreamInk-Maple Falls

A poem about air strikes on Germany, by author (1917-1943)? He died in action when his plane was shot down.

'had Warr survived... he would likely have become an important voice in Canadian poetry.'

#poem #bertramwarr #canadianliterature

Photograph of poem featured in main post as printed in book: Condolence The mind, an inveterate traveller. Journeys swiftly and far Faster than light, quicker than sound Or the flaming arc of a falling star But the body remains in a vacuum Gagged, bound and sick with dread Knowing the words that can't be spoken Searching for words that must be said Dumb, inarticulate, heartbroken. Inadequate, inhibited. Noël Coward

"Condolence", Noël Coward
Montblanc - Around the world in 80 days - Brown
Leuchtturm a5 standard
PenBBS P139 <F> Green

Don't we all feel like we could be brilliant if only our bodies could match our minds?

#poem #poetry #noelcoward #englishliterature #fountainpensandink

"Quiet", Marjorie Pickthall
Wearingeul - Hades
Leuchtturm a5 standard
Penbbs 469

Night time photo as its been raining all day. I didn't bother with the swatch card, since I'm under no illusion that this is colour accurate.

#poetry #poem #marjoriepickthall #candadianliterature #fountainpensandink

Photograph of a page in a published book, showing the poem written in the main post. The Dream I had a dream in the day: I laid my father's body down in a narrow boat and sent him off along the riverbank with its cattails and grasses. And the boat - it was made of bark and wood bent when it was wet - took him to his burial finally. But a day or two later I realized it was my self I wanted to lay down, hands crossed, eyes closed.... Oh, the light coming up from down there, the sweet smell of the water and finally, the sense of being carried by a current I could not name or change. Marie Howe

"The Dream", Marie Howe
Iroshizuku Hana-Ikada
Leuchtturm a5
Lamy2000 <F>

The final stanza "the sense of being carried/by a current I could not name or change" puts me in mind of that famous painting "Ophelia" by John Everett Millais.

#poem #poetry #mariehowe #americanliterature #fountainpensandink

"A poem that does not flatten", J Tommy White
Wearingeul Siddathra
Small Stationery Studio passport TR52
Hongdian N1-S

This one is from a disability centred lit mag:
wordgathering.com/vol17/issue2...

Spot the unwanted cameo!

#poetry #poem #Jtommywhite #fountainpensandink #fountainpensaustralia

Screenshot of typed poem text from main body The Uninvited Always a third one's there where any two are walking out along a river-bank  so mirror-still sheathed in sheets  of sky pillows of cloud - their footprints crunch the hardening earth their eyes delight in trees   stripped clean winter-prepared with only the rose-hips red and plump fingers of sumach And always between the two (scuffing the leaves, laughing and finger locked) goes a third lover   his or hers who walked this way with one or other   once flung back the head  snapped branches of dark pine in armfuls   before snowfall I walk beside you trace a shadow's shade skating on silver hear another voice singing under ice Dorothy Livesay

I wrote a whole thing about my reading of this one but 299 words and 4 images doesn't cut it, so here is a screenshot

"The Uninvited", Dorothy Livesay
Wearingeul x Atlas Stationers - Twelth Night
Wearingeul Nobile Pad A5
Benu Pixie <B> Stardust Pink

Dorothy Livesay (1909-1996) was a Canadian poet, described as lyricial, imagist, and modernist.

#poetry #poem #dorothylivesay #canadianliterature #fountainpensandink

"Yellow Gramophone" Shelia Cussons
Robert Oster- Honey Bee
TR 52gsm, B6
Parker Urban

Shelia Cussons (1922-2004) was a South African Afrikaans poet, writer, artist and translator.

This #poem reminds me of "You're" by Sylvia Plath.

#sheliacussons #southafricanliterature #fountainpensandink

(Victorian here refers to being from the Australian state Victoria, not the reign of Queen Victoria 1837-1901)
I don't know why I am expositioning for my non-existent audience 😅

A Victorian Hangman Tells His Love Dear one, forgive my appearing before you like this, in a two-piece track-suit, welder's goggles and a green cloth cap like some gross bee - this is the State's idea ... I would have come arrayed like a bridegroom for the nuptials knowing how often you have dreamed about this moment of consummation in your cell. If I must bind your arms now to your sides with a leather strap and ask you if you have anything to say -these too are formalities I would dispense with: I know your heart is too full at this moment to say much and that the tranquilliser which I trust you did not reject out of a stubborn pride should by this have eased your ache for speech, breath and the other incidentals which distract us from our end. Let us now walk a step. This noose with which we're wed is something of an heirloom, the last three members of our holy family were wed with it, the softwood beam it hangs from like a lovers' tree notched with their weight. See now I slip it over your neck, the knot under the left jaw, with a slip ring to hold the knot in place... There. Perfect. Allow me to adjust the canvas hood which will enable you to anticipate the officially prescribed darkness by some seconds. The journalists are ready with the flash-bulbs of their eyes raised to the simple altar, the doctor twitches like a stethoscope -you have been given a clean bill of health, like any modern bride. With this spring of mine from the trap, hitting the door lever, you will go forth into a new life which I, alas, am not yet fit to share. Be assured, you will sink into the generous pool of public feeling as gently as a leaf - accept your role, feel chosen. You are this evening's headlines. Come, my love. Bruce Dawe

Full text in the alt-text of this photo

"A Victorian Hangman Tells His Love", Bruce Dawe

This is really long and makes for bad photos BUT its impossible to find online, and I want to preserve it for future readers.

This is about the hanging of Ronald Ryan in 1967, the last execution in Australia.

#poem #brucedawe #australianliterature

Photograph of a published book page showing the poem featured in the main post Small Boy Norman MacCaig He picked up a pebble and threw it into the sea. And another, and another. He couldn’t stop. He wasn’t trying to fill the sea. He wasn’t trying to empty the beach. He was just throwing away, nothing else but. Like a kitten playing he was practicing for the future when there’ll be so many things he’ll want to throw away if only his fingers will unclench and let them go.

"Small Boy" Norman MacCaig
Herbin Ambre de Birmanie
Crown Mill
Wingsung 699 <M>

I can feel myself now, trying to throw stones, but they cling to my hands and find their way into my pockets until all I want to do is walk into the surf.

#poem #normanmaccaig #scottishliterature #fountainpensandink

Wearing Thin "You'll soon grow into it,' she would say When buying a school blazer three sizes too big. And she was right as mothers usually are. Syrup of figs. Virol. Cod liver oil. Within a year I did grow into it By then, of course, it was threadbare. Pulling in different directions My clothes and I never matched. And in changing-rooms nothing has changed. I can buy what I like and when New clothes that are a perfect fit. Full-length mirror, nervous grin, It's me now that's threadbare, wearing thin. Roger McGough

"Wearing Thin", Roger McGough
Wearingeul - The Secret Garden
Leuchtturm a5 standard
Platinum Little Meteor <F>

I only had 1 ml of this ink, and initially chose a bad pen, so when I moved it most of the shimmer was lost.

#poem #englishliterature #fountainpensandink #fountainpensaustralia

I'm obsessed with this show! I watched it all in a (very unproductive) day. Where were you when you wrote this?

"Poem for Stillness", Garous Abdolmalekian
Translated: Ahmad Nadalizadeh and Idra Novey
Van Diemans - December 2023
Leuchtturm a5 standard
TWSBI eco <B> glow purple

I finally bought this dual language book of poems.

#poem #garousabdolmalekian #iranianliterature #fountainpensandink

Came to say the same! Even the anti-ICE coverage downplays their actions.

Thank you so much! Its a combination of I love trying out papers, and having the nice swatches means I don't stress as much about finishing my inks which are 90% samples.

"Ode", Noor Hindi
Colorverse - Butterfly Nebula
Crown Mill Vellum A5
Kaweco Sport <F> Ocean

I've seen it called "Ode" and "Ode to Friendship". Noor Hindi is a Palestinian-American poet - I wonder which country she refers to?

#poem #americanliterature #palestinianliterature #fountainpensandink

Thank you!

Not sure how you plan to collect the successful quiz-takers details for entry as I completed it in a clean browser and there was no option to enter the draw after completing the quiz 100%

(Photograph of printed page in book with the following poem) The Night-Ride Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down; Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare, Pull up the blind, blink out - all sounds are drugged; the slow blowing of passengers asleep; engines yawning; water in heavy drips; Black, sinister travellers, lumbering up the station, one moment in the window, hooked over bags; hurrying, unknown faces - boxes with strange labels -  all groping clumsily to mysterious ends, out of the gaslight, dragged by private Fates, their echoes die. The dark train shakes and plunges; bells cry out, the night-ride starts again. Soon I shall look out into nothing but blackness, pale, windy fields, the old roar and knock of the rails melts in dull fury. Pull down the blind. Sleep. Sleep Nothing but grey, rushing rivers of bush outside. Gaslight and milk-cans. Of Rapptown I recall nothing else. Kenneth Slessor

Had to delete and repost this one because half the images were just black, sorry. Here's the original

"The Night-Ride" Kenneth Slessor
J. Herbin - Kyanite du Nepal
Graphillo
Twsbi Eco <magpie> Heat

This is the first poem by #KennethSlessor that really caught my interest. It captures that sense of travel - liminal space and a slightly alien world.

#poem #australianliterature #fountainpensandink

(A photograph of the poem featured in the main post, printed in an older looking book.) The Night-Ride Gas flaring on the yellow platform; voices running up and down; Milk-tins in cold dented silver; half-awake I stare, Pull up the blind, blink out - all sounds are drugged; the slow blowing of passengers asleep; engines yawning; water in heavy drips; Black, sinister travellers, lumbering up the station, one moment in the window, hooked over bags; hurrying, unknown faces - boxes with strange labels - all groping clumsily to mysterious ends, out of the gaslight, dragged by private Fates, their echoes die. The dark train shakes and plunges; bells cry out, the night-ride starts again. Soon I shall look out into nothing but blackness, pale, windy fields, the old roar and knock of the rails melts in dull fury. Pull down the blind. Sleep. Sleep Nothing but grey, rushing rivers of bush outside. Gaslight and milk-cans. Of Rapptown I recall nothing else. Kenneth Slessor