becopoetry

Poetry Music Thoughts and Reflections

Centrepiece — January 22, 2020

Centrepiece

Portrait of lady on porcelain plate

Pink dresses dancing for clergy

Little fire in a chandelier

 

I take pause at the edge

of a gallery in branded sandals

one foot off the floor

before the toes of a Persian Queen

summoned AND SO I WILL GO

UNTO THE KING WHICH IS NOT ACCORDING

TO THE LAW AND IF I PERISH

I PERISH        I turn

 

Under the arches of the exhibiting hall

real-life bride performs a pirouette

two men        each eye their lens

one on one knee

the other circumnavigating

light in crafted spin

 

 

 

 

 

poem and drawing by Rebecca Sullivan

 

An Anarchist Manifesto — December 21, 2019
Plato’s Last Supper — June 10, 2017
In Collaboration With Max — January 19, 2017

In Collaboration With Max

In Collaboration with Max is poetry composed by Max Lewis and Rebecca Sullivan. Max experiences autism as well as delayed intellectual and physical growth. Max’s poetics is experimental and he can be heard expressing himself in venues across Melbourne. Rebecca and Max collaborate to advocate for the voice of differently abled poets. A selection of poems from In Collaboration with Max were first Published in Southerly Literally Journal 76.2

In Collaboration with Max includes 9 poems and a Poetics Blue Print titled The ‘Special Needs’ of Poetry.

A recital of a small selection of the collaboration is viewed here

A recital  of a selection of the collaborative poems with improvised jazz is found here

The audio versions of all poems in the collaboration are found below.

Poetics Blue Print – The ‘Special Needs’ of Poetry

a road map

voice

noise

advise

deliberation

the body of print

pitching

a song

Max sings a song here

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HIStory of Father Tongue — October 18, 2016
Nation — September 23, 2016

Nation

the armed guard is dressed

in 19th century floral

pink stilettos peeking in

a shadow of layered petticoat

 

folds separate the women

from the men and the young

paper coiled into tubes

 

a black helmet

upside down nests

a crossed smile

umbered and chained

to feet of an old plastic doll

 

an ivory cat reflecting

on painted boards

sky holes gaping

through serrated mesh

 

the flag wooden is tacked

to the white wall broken

in new foundations

bought tolled and taxed

Museum —

Museum

in four limbs around an oval

man cerated

 

edges framed

and falling to cedar

 

expanding in triangular

their shadows white

 

footprints amidst

a maroon sea

 

the light of ceiling

soaked in a leaking flood

 

arial footed

lines pasted to the floor

 

a small diamond window hidden

in the belly of outside

Yesterday’s Bleach — September 12, 2016

Yesterday’s Bleach

After ‘A Beautiful Young Nymph Going to Bed’ by Jonothon Swift

 

 

Sugar granules sink in foam

on a table where Sappho is

 

stuck between pages

preening Ovid’s Amores.

 

A fall happens,

coffee spills on swift shoes,

 

a copy of ‘Men’s Health’

splays on concrete.

 

Behind him, a little black dress

in a window with accessories,

 

gifts, and a stack of books

titled ‘Freedom’.

 

With translation on his lips,

he mouths something

 

about Gulliver, wiping

liquid from the city street.

 

Saying nothing in return,

Corinna picks up her empty cup,

 

cures her hair with a pin

and eyes the messy magazine.

 

Apostrophe driven on bittersweet,

she turns to the sky,

 

O cloudy context fold in,

this battlefield is yesterday’s bleach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

haiku — March 31, 2016
Two Plastic Bottles — March 15, 2016