Thank you to Julie Thorndyke for her excellent editoring of the Eucalypt Journal for Tanka. I always feek excited and honoured when Julie chooses one of my tanka for the publication.
Dear Colleen,
Thank you for your submission to Eucalypt issue 35.
I have pleasure in accepting the following poem
a new sandbar
slows the river’s rush
toward the sea
sometimes in my life
I wonder why I hurry
Colleen Keating
“One of my favourite places, ” says Jazz.
Lots of ocean-exploring over the weekend with Jazz & Dom. Jazz says she could sit all day and watch the vissisitude of the ocean. We talked about the wild waves crashing and the small timid waves creeping in and the ever changing ocean. I loved it that the ocean holds her in all its moods. It was low tide, which gave us scope to ramble about, rock hopping and gazing into rock pools , one of our happy places.
Jazz exploring at low tide
Jazz pondering the unceasing quest of the ocean
Jazz who plans to be a Marine Biologist and hopes in some way to play her part in saving our oceans found lots of interest in our afternoon walk. Our most beautiful being the blood-red Anemone
Sometimes it is called the Waratah Anemone and at low tide it looks like a small red blob on crevices near rock pools. In this state it has all its tentacles drawn in to minimise its exposure to the air while it waits for the return of the tide. We were lucky to capture a few waving their tenticles around looking flower like.
The Neptune’s necklace actually called Hormosira and other sea weed and the different varieies of kelp and sea weed was another interesting thing to explore . Some people forage this for their gardens or to eat as it is full of sea mineral.
Below are some of the haiku and tanka Jazz wrote at school this week.
River
nature’s stream glowing
glistening in the dark
cockatoos singing
trees of vibrant green
the silent breeze blowing through
earth’s heart beat echoes
the flowers blooming
nature’s waterfall crashing
cascading rivers
colourful rainbows
reflecting on water
oh what a great sight
Ocean
the ocean waves crush
whales leaping joyfully
seaweed flowing through
sealife swimming happily
dolphns squeaking, fish playing
the colour of blue
reflecting off the blue sky
the sea gulls chirping
salty scent of the ocean
wind blowing through my wet hair
88888——-8888888——8888888
Dom practiced spinning stones with Pa, sliding down sandhills, walling up the rockpools and exploring and sharing out search to observe marine life and sharing his very talented gift of drawing a dragon.
Drawing a detailed dragon
Getting some hints from Pa on spinning stones
and surfing in Keating beach
Back at the beach house listening to the ocean in the shell and having brekky with the family.
A Journal of Australian & International Cultural Reviews, News and Criticism.
The Launch of No Salami Fairy Bread by Beatriz Copello : launched on the 6th October 2023 by Colleen Keating at Gleebooks, Sydney.
Thank you Angela . I too, gratefully acknowledge and pay respects to our First Peoples. We are reminded of the deep history of the lands, on which we meet and I too support a yes to the constitutional voice from the Uluru Statement from the Heart.
Friends, It’s a privilege to be asked by Beatriz to launch her new collection of poetry, No Salami Fairy Bread and I hope you all get a chance to buy a copy and enjoy reading this
poetic journey. The cover is very smart and the feel of the book is gorgeous. You must be proud Beatriz and we are delighted for you and we are here as your supporters.
I would like too to acknowledge Ginninderra Press for their dedication to poetry and for publishing this powerful story.
Dr. Beatriz Copello is a published Australian writer, poet, playwright and psychologist with a rich and colourful Argentinian heritage. Her fiction and poetry have been published nationally and internationally, in literary journals such as Southerly and Australian Women’s Book Review, and in anthologies and feminist publications.
There are many of you here who know Beatriz in different ways, family, friends, colleagues, and from her writing life. I know Beatriz in that capacity a fellow poet. . . she is an awesome reviewer of books and I have found her to be fair, affirming and astute especially as our touchstone and affirming bond has been in feminist writing
And this evening how special to gather to acclaim Beatriz ’s latest poetry collection No Salami Fairy Bread. This is not an ordinary collection of poetry . It is the story of a life in poetry, a funny and poignant story written in poetic form. It follows the poets migratory life as a young woman, without English, who had to carry the early resistance of family shown in an early poem Dolls:
‘Mum, I want to take to Australian
my doll Pepita and the one that walks
also, the one that wees . . .
and you know
I cannot sleep with out my teddy’
‘Only one dolly you can take.
You must choose with care’
‘I hate Australia. I don’t want to go.
I want to keep all my dolls.
Why can’t we stay here.?’
She was mother, daughter, sister, wife and lover becoming a modern woman through adversity, life’s struggles hopes and at times despair. It is about a dream of living a free life in a new country.
As Beatriz will admit she was no saint facing the challenges of Sydney in the 70’s even with the challenge of fidelity as she struggled to be an independent modern woman embracing a new culture within the beautiful city of Sydney It is a page turner as we follow how the poet made her dream a reality. The story of braving the journey to a new world bringing her family with all the ups and downs that entails.
And finally on a bigger scale it is about diversity and inclusivity. i will read a little from the poem Defiance:
Don’t tell your in-laws
that you work as a waitress
dressed up as an Indian. They’ll
think we have all gone mad
. . .and your husband
he’s so angry and annoyed.
Give up that silly job!’
Recriminated my mother. . . .
‘Your husband will leave you,
your children will hate you.
You’ll be left in your own.’
‘I know what i want.
I know where I’m going.
don’t worry about me. . .
Some of the poems are very cutting and painful and I love the immediacy of poetry and how it makes you feel as you read.
In one poem she writes:
I lie in bed as if shrouded
by the clean white sheets.
i am dead to my past,
alive in the present
breathing in new sensations,
excitement, surprises
the joy of the new. … and with fright I shiver
What have I done?
i have dragged my whole family
into a world so foreign
so different, so unusual. . .
One of the great gifts of poetry is its ability to explore and hold the paradox between anticipation, fear, betrayal, hope, joy, acceptance .
I love the the new awareness in poems like It’s Time.
The tea lady is wearing
a badge on her coat.
it says IT”S TIME.
and later,
we sit on the patio
of the pub next door
and we drink beer and smoke.
She tells me of Whitlam
his vision and dreams . . ‘
You should know about Al grassy
he is all for the ‘wogs .
I will read one last poem I Learnt :
. . .And I went to that session
and more, many more.
I learnt about exploitation
about men’s intentions,
their power, their control
and the way in which women were oppressed .
I marched in the streets
carrying banners tat said,
Not the church
not the state
let the women
choose their fate. The girls enjoyed the chanting
when I took them on our marches. I shocked my husband
mu mother, my family
with all my new beliefs.
As time passed, I realised
that my life was only mine.
I packed a case for the girls and I
and we left for a new life,
somewhere in Ryde,
near Macquarie , my uni
where i had been accepted
to study for a BA
majoring in Psychology
We are privileged to be part of this unfolding journey, the future becoming of a young naive woman who looked into an unknown future, and stepped out, held on to a resilience to keep moving forward like the the story of the cocoon to a beautiful butterfly with silver wings that become stronger and stronger .
We know the end of this story as we have the resilient and lovingly beautiful Dr. Beatriz Copello here with us today .(Call Beatriz forward)
However You will have to buy and read No Salami Fairy Bread to find out how this brave woman made it to be standing here next to me today.
Let’s now celebrate the hard and lonely journey of writing. Beatriz is a beacon of hope for us all on our journeys and for many of us as writers – a reminder that we are all travellers on this remarkable journey of life seeking our own ‘fairy bread’ our own place of acceptance and our own home , Please join with me in congratulating Dr. Beatriz Copello as we together launch and welcome her new poetry book No Salami Fairy Bread.
Colleen Keating
Colleen Keating is a Sydney-based poet. Her writing explores the paradox and wonder of nature with harsh realities of life, justice , equality and the increasing threat to our natural environment. Colleen has published six collections of poetry, including two award-winning verse novels, Hildegard of Bingen: A poetic journey and Olive Muriel Pink: her radical & idealistic life. Her newly published book (2023) is The Dinner Party: A poetic reflection with Ginninderra Press. Colleen writes on Ku-Ring-Gai land in Sydney and Darkinjung on the Central Coast of NSW.
No Salami Fairy Bread by Beatriz Copello is available from Ginninderra Press
Echidna Tracks No 11 has just concluded
Echidna Tracks Issue 11 edited by Gavin Austin and Marilyn Humbert. Thank you to them for the time and passion for haiku and thanks especially to Lynette Arden for the joy Echnida Tracks gives us daily at 6.30 am as a new gift arrives in our inbox
roosting lorikeets
chatter into the night
moon glow
Colleen Keating
among clouds
spoonbills
sweep the shallows
Colleen Keating
sickle moon—
barefoot around
a crescent beach
Colleen Keating
an ocean
to the other side
refugees
Colleen Keating
Love this direction for The Elements
Whether you are drawn to the ancient categories of Earth, Air, Fire and Water or are more at home with chemistry and current ideas in physics and cosmology; our theme deals with nature in the raw, the fundamentals of existence. Stone, soil, sea, wind and sky come to mind, as do energy, light, matter, electricity, space and time. Perhaps your world is an enchanted one; animated by spirit and containing magical and miraculous elements. You might also be open to the idea that the universe is composed of mind stuff, the stuff of which dreams are made, or is it all a mystery beyond words (though as aspiring poets we shall try). There is scope here to explore our place as thinking, feeling and social beings immersed in immensities and carried along in the flux of it all; the possibilities are endless and go to the heart of haiku. Take us into the heart of your universe, share your visions and wonder – leave us adazzle, quietly reflective and moved in one way or another…
Editors for Echidna Tracks Issue 11: Elements will be Gavin Austin and Marilyn Humbert.
Today it is exciting to receive this equisite Haiku Anthology, under the same moon and so proud to have three of my hailu included with many well known haikuists.
‘Alive with birds and frogs, suffused with the threat of bushfires and floods, these haiku sing with the uniqueness of Australian life. The skill on show is breathtaking , as distinctive individul voices lay bare moments of joy, loss, awareness and connection to inner and outer landscapes. ” Esther Ottaway
Colleen Keating I am excited to have three of my awarded haiku over the past few years published .
on my doorstep
a single rose softens
lockdown
birds and frogs
harmonise at dawn
Kakadu billabong
spring backburn
smells of last summer
waft on the wind
In the blurb on the back cover the well known poet Kevin Brophy writes: “And just as the butterfly puts so much effort into being light, you’ll wonder, does the haiku compress or expand the world ?. Does it vanish into its possible meanings or is each haiku, like autumn leaves, competing to be the most strangely beauitful object on the forest floor? “An amazing analogy, And amazing how 17 syllables or in the Japanese way 17 beats of sound can tell us a cosmic story from the minute nano size story to the universe expanding vision.
An example of this is from Dr Andrew Hede . His haiku expresses the grandness of the moment of experience ‘virgin forest’ to the humble minuteness by the age read in the time line of growth.
It speaks of the loss of our virgin forests which are disappearing and the reality of the time to grow and the moment of cutting down it with the fresh-cut stump,
virgin rainforest
ninety-four rings
on a fresh-cut stump
Andrew Hede Page 44.
Below is the back cover with the blurb I qouted from and my page of haiku.
Thank you to the editors for the new Anthology for its beautiful sensitive presentation and choice of haiku.
Thank you Kent Robinson for the following write up .
White Pebbles haiku poets gathered at the Edogawa Gardens at the Gosford Regional Gallery and Arts Centre on Saturday morning, 16th September, 2023. Present were Maire Glacken, Marilyn Humbert, Gwen Bitti, Colleen Keating, Beverley George and Kent Robinson, with apologies received from Samantha Sirimanne Hyde and Michael Thorley.
A glorious spring day greeted us. Ducks and koi carp shared the pond and water features of the gardens. As they fed the ducks, children’s laughter echoed among the beautifully manicured flora. Spring blooms of every hue brightened the walkways.
We met in the Gallery’s cafe for a catch-up before a stroll through the gardens. Over coffee, Marilyn Humbert, advised us that, in order to refine our sense of observation as we strolled, we look into the small spaces – distill whatever we saw, and trust ourselves and our senses as we composed our haiku. We strolled the garden, feeling the warmth of the spring sunshine on our faces. The scent of blooms bursting all about and the joy of being immersed in birdsong were intoxicating.
Now it was time for a round table meeting in the niche beneath the art gallery. At the beginning of the meeting our dear friend and valued member of White Pebbles, Gail Hennessy, who sadly recently passed, was remembered fondly. The round table about which we gather is extremely significant to our group. Around it we may share ideas and each single poet is as one with all others. How fortunate we feel, that White Pebbles is such a mutually supportive group!
Beverley George distributed for purchase “under the same moon”, the Fourth Australian Haiku Anthology, in which several White Pebbles members have haiku. (Many thanks to Vanessa Proctor for furnishing Beverley with copies of this fine anthology in advance of our meeting.)
Echidna Tracks 11 was spoken of, with congratulations to all White Pebbles poets who feature therein.
We then moved on to the business of the day. Beverley had asked that we each bring a haiku that had inspired us in the early days of our haiku journey, as well as one of our own that we had composed in those early days. Matsuo Basho featured strongly as an early influence to many.
Next, we considered the haiku and images that had been gathered on the garden walk earlier. This proved an extremely productive exercise. Beverley presented some haiku that Michael Thorley had sent in. Thank you, Michael. Your sensitive haiku were a fine addition to our meeting and very much appreciated by all.
Marilyn Humbert had prepared a presentation entitled “The Art of Discovery”. She advised us in composing haiku to observe light and shade at different times throughout the day, different seasons, different weather conditions, different sounds and different moods. And to be aware of the ephemeral things – feathers, stones, bird calls, the shapes of twigs and leaves, tree trunks and bark, rough and smooth. To trust our senses. Helpfully, Marilyn supplied a number of examples of haiku written from different points of view. Many thanks to Marilyn for a most informative and thought provoking presentation.
At this point, towards the end of our meeting, we acknowledged our members who have recently had books published.
* Gwen Bitti has had a novel entitled “Between Two Worlds” published by Ginninderra Press. Gwen spoke of the writing of “Between Two Worlds” and furnished each White Pebble poet with a sachet of fragrant herbs, a snippet of silk and one of hessian to enhance sensory perception, as she spoke.
* Colleen Keating’s carefully researched book, “The Dinner Party” was also published by Ginninderra Press and we enjoyed hearing about it.
* And we recalled that only recently, in 2022, Samantha Sirimanne Hyde’s book “The Lyrebird’s Cry” was published.
Congratulations All!
This concluded the White Pebbles Spring meeting 2023. The general sentiment was all are looking forward to our summer ginko.
Kent Robinson
In the bush I hear the trees
ferns, palms and moss
whispering their wisdom
renewing my being
healing my soul
– Colleen Keating
After winter
Still dark enough to note the morning star
she walks again the bush track. A few magpies
fossick in frosty grass for first feed. Swallows dart
among the insect motes off the dandelion spent heads
and fly back to perch on telegraph wires.
It is still cold. Apple-crisp and silver.
The clouds open as silk fans, their bone
displayed like veins of a feather. The magpies
sing now from branches above, and she thinks too
how their morning song is her Delphian oracle.
She walks the track that’s a bracelet of charms
taps a branch watching a spangle of diamond–
dew drops light the way while the early light captures
a scarred tree trunk hollowed black like Munch’s Scream.
A cockatoo perched above glints with the gold 
of a mohawk fiend, soon in flight it will have the air
of a Tiger Moth in a opal-tinted sky. She has always loved
the walks here, the brush turkey stepping from
its scratchy music of an old LP, the whipbird checking
on its mate from the high river gums, the wrens chirping
from the safety of undergrowth, yet today it is a rupture
of spring that sings a rhapsody of song: purple milkwort
ravishing attention, pink wax Eriostemon, wedding veil
showers of boronia and orange pea plants sitting
in their spiky foliage. There is joy in watching the earth
re-awaken, the inevitable journey out of a winter
segueing towards summer. Ahead she can see
why she came – a wild display of flannel flowers. Petals
still mostly closed – their green tips a rising choir ready to sing
an Alleluia chorus. Open petals like earth-bound stars have 
the velvety feel of a childhood dress and sparkle in the shifting
light. She loves those Banksia trees that shade the groves
flamboyant with rough bearded seed pods like sleepy-eyed owls
wisely peering down: with the zephyr of a breeze there’s
a shuffling sound as if feathers are being ruffled or a yellow
skirt swinging through dried grass. The sun now on the shoulder
beams into the canopy of green and she will walk back
her mind pianissimo as a gentle Brahms largo passage
alert to nature watching, her enlivened step.
Colleen Keating
I take a train out of Bingen
through the Rhine Valley
on this sweaty summers day
trek up a steep hill
relieved to find an old sign klosterruine
which points to a verdant track
into a cool shady grove
here remnants of the twelfth century monastery
moss-mottled stone walls
mostly buried by vines
and embedded tree roots
is Hildegard’s world
standing in this moment
with the outlines of another world
time is shapeless
the divide of centuries a blur
only my mind’s eye can see
a spirited young woman
flourishing herb gardens
she prepares salves and tonics
attends the sick
listens to the breeze
and finds God in the hills above her
kairos time
for her visions writings mandalas and music
later a powerful feminist voice
against corruption patriarchy and senseless war
the earth is our mother she would sing
revere and care for her
if we exploit and savage her
she will be out off balance
and the price will be high
then silence for nine hundred years
in our time
the scales are tipped loudly out of balance
the all ords and the dow are the measure
a daily intake of massacres crowds our entertainment
soul mutilation makes soldiers unable to cry
I lean against the wall marked Hildegard’s cloister
in the lush shade of an almond tree
hanging fruit voluptuous now
is falling to emptiness
the void
the nothingness
how human to fear the waiting
for fullness to return
scattered around me
are rotting almond fruits
flies enjoying their feast
the decay fodder for the soil
my eyes scan for her presence
a maiden hair fern
grooved into a crumbling niche
catches my eye
delicate and tenacious
I feel a quickening
like a first flutter of new life
too often the fragile the intimate whisper
the lightness of touch
the flicker of a sanctuary lamp
like the breath are portals and easily missed
I ponder the rise and fall of my breathing
listen to the rhythmic heart beat
hear veriditas chants in the crumbling walls
veriditas murmurs hildegard
hildegard is here
I do not flinch i expect her
nothing like the grey statue at the abbey
holding the orb and feather
her presence is intimate
light glows luminous
her arms full of herbs from the garden
and her muddy hand-made sandals
make me laugh
Congratulations, Michael Conti!
Your talent and enthusiasm for our initiative are heartwarming and changemaking. We have reviewed your film submission and appreciate announcing to you and our world that your film, In Search of Hildegard of Bingen, is part of the Official Screening Selection of the I AM PEACE GAMIP Global Short Film Forum 2022.
in search of Hildegard of Bingen
… auf der Suche nach Hildegard von Bingen
… ich nehme einen Zug aus Bingen
durchs Rheintal
an diesem Sommertag
steige auf einen steilen Hügel
erleichtert ein altes Schild zu finden Klosterruine
das auf einen grünen Pfad führt
in einen kühlen schattigen Hain
Überreste des Klosters aus dem zwölften Jahrhundert
moos-gefleckte Steinwände,
die meist von Rebstöcken bedeckt sind,
und eingebettete Baumwurzeln
das hier ist Hildegards Welt
in diesem Moment
in den Umrissen einer anderen Zeit zu stehen,
Zeit ist formlos,
die Einteilung in Jahrhunderte unscharf.
nur das Auge meiner Seele sieht
eine lebendige junge Frau
und blühende Kräutergärten
sie bereitet Salben und Säfte
steht den Kranken bei
hört auf den Wind
und findet Gott in den Hügeln über ihr
Kairos Zeit
für ihre Visionen, Schriften, Mandalas und Musik
später eine mächtige feministische Stimme
gegen Korruption Patriarchat und sinnlosen Krieg
die Erde ist unsere Mutter sie würde singen
ehre sie und sorge für sie
wenn wir sie ausbeuten und über sie herfallen
gerät sie aus dem Gleichgewicht
und der Preis wird hoch sein
dann gab es neunhundert Jahre Stille
zu unserer Zeit
ist das Maß lautstark aus der Balance geraten
das wer bietet mehr und der Dow sind die Maßstäbe
ein tägliches Reinziehen von Massakern trägt zu unserer Unterhaltung bei
Seelenverstümmelung belässt Soldaten unfähig zum Weinen
Ich lehne mich gegen die Mauer, die als Hildegards Frauenklause bezeichnet wird
im üppigen Schatten eines Mandelbaums
hängende Früchte nun lustvoll
die Leere
das Nichts
wie menschlich das Warten zu fürchten.
dass die Fülle zurück kehrt
meine Augen skandieren nach ihrer Gegenwart
das ferne Haar eines Mädchens
eingefercht in eine zerbröckelnde Nische
zieht meinen Blick an
fein und zäh
Ich fühle eine Erregung
Wie ein erstes Flattern neuen Lebens
Allzu oft sind das zerbrechliche intime Flüstern
die Helligkeit der Berührung
das Flackern einer heiligen Lampe
Tore, die wie das Atmen leicht übersehen werden
Ich sinniere über den Anstieg und Abfall meines Atems
Höre auf das Murmel n des Herzschlags
viriditas murmelt Hildegard
Hildegard ist hier
Ich zucke nicht zusammen ich habe sie erwartet
nichts wie die graue Statue an der Abtei
die Globus und Feder hält
ihre Gegenwart ist intim
Licht glüht leuchtend
ihre Arme voll Kräuter aus dem Garten
und ihre matschigen handgefertigten Sandalen
lassen mich lachen
Using a creative metaphor, I am proud to say I was one of the midwives in its creative growth and Pip’s birthing of the book. The joys and nurturing of music in our lives always came through as Pip’s poetic ideas grew .
Libertango
One winter’s evening
in an old asylum’s grounds
there’s a hub of warmth –
coffee, conversation, music
where a diminutive young woman
dances her bow across her double bass
syncopating with guitar
playing the Libertango.
They have the audience –
folk followers, musicians
poets, singers
maybe even shades of troubled souls
clapping, tapping their feet
swaying, smiling
surrendering their bodies to the seductive beat
of a sultry Buenos Aires night.
Pip Griffin
The Dave Brubeck Quartet
At twenty she shares a flat with friends
in half a house that clambers up the hill in Thorndon
adds a Brubeck record to her Bach and Brahms
buys a ticket to his Town Hall concert
and sits alone amongst expectant fans
taut as drum skins begging to be played.
Brain on fire with crooked rhythms
her body jitterbugs to teasing riffs
the dry martini saxophone stirs her spine
dizzying drumming pummels her solar plexus
and there is Brubeck – bespectacled face beaming
striding syncopated chords across the keyboard.
Pip Griffin
available through ginninderrapress/our books
978 1 76109 570 2, 86pp
And then we were read to . . .Graham’s poetry . . . poignant as I wiped awa a tear listening to the poem Centenary, laughing out loud with the poem Policy Launch, warm humour and memory of the poem The Day that Gough Got In. I am excited to get the time to sit down and enjoy Grahams very sensitive poetry.
An Important Note Graham makes:
An sincere thank you to Stephen Matthews OAM and Brenda Eldridge of Ginninderra Press for the opportunity of publication, their encouragement in doing so, and the considerable efforts they make in bringing Ginninderra Press poetry publications to fruition.
In this, his first full collection of poems, Graham Wood considers some of the mysteries involved in time and memory. He does this obliquely rather than directly, in a glancing way. Many of the poems focus on the particular moments of experience that our memories are able to capture and preserve. Some are like snapshots or small movies, often suffused with a quirky humour. Others are more serious in tone and reach, but always retaining a lightness of touch. Graham has lived in Sydney for most of his life, after half a childhood in country New South Wales. His poems have been published in Australian and international journals and anthologies, and on a number of poetry websites. Ginninderra Press also published five of his poetry chapbooks over 2021-2022.
978 1 76109 528 3, 108pp