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Ian Templeman
Ian Templeman has worked as a poet, artist, academic, and publisher.
The title of this rich and varied collection of poetry by Philip Neilsen comes from a poem entitled ‘First Creative Writing Class’:
I have only just begun to know what a cloud is and could be. Poetry comes without an alibi, in lightning flashes of sanity.
The poem captures many of the characteristics of Neilsen’s verse making. His teaching role at the Queensland University of Technolog ... (read more)
There is no sound of the sea, a long row down the mirror-like waters of Wagonga Inlet crowded with forest reflections. The wind twists and dives in the tree canopy, the soft whisper mixing with bird calls and the occasional barking of a dog from across the water. The small flower heads of clover quiver in the gulps of wind pushing the big-bellied clouds, rain stained, across the mountains. I am co ... (read more)
This volume of Southerly, combining the first two issues for 2007, is a celebration of Elizabeth Webby’s contribution to Australian literature. Noel Rowe and Bernadette Brennan, the editors principally responsible for this issue, describe it as ‘a tribute to a brilliant career’. There are contributions from academic colleagues, generations of poets and writers of short fiction, and a number ... (read more)
‘But beside me I had a new laptop computer …’
The publisher’s promotional material which was included with the review copy of Philip Salom’s new poetry collection, The Rome Air Naked, indicated the book would be launched ‘with an innovative exhibition which will use computer technology to extend the written work into an aural, visual and multimedia presentation’. After reading the a ... (read more)
I am not overlyGregarious. I wait and I watch. I keep a decentSilence. But there are some skills where I have power.At times I have spun a silk web strong as wire.
These are the final lines of a poem entitled ‘Endings 111’ in Tom Shapcott’s recently published collection of poetry, The City of Empty Rooms. The poem is included in the final two sections of the book devoted to memories of ... (read more)
Paper Gardener
Friends knew he lived alone in an old fashioned block of apartments with large windows facing the sea and a lift like a lion’s cage that gave a tired roar and a belch as it trundled to the fifth floor.
His habitat was a cocoon high above the city’s motor zoo and lollipop trimmed trees sewn in neat rows across the green parks that had no knowledge of drought as summer ... (read more)