Les_Wicks, Author at Flying Islands Pocket Poets

Belief by Les Wicks

Poems

By the Wayside

Over the drinks

Alise started discussing “us veterans”

as though we had conquered something real.

There were enough stories that day,

our backs bent, the calcium dust we shed as we struggle on towards dotage.

There’s a form of war universally fought against the years.

She had a hit in the 80’s.

Staunch, she faces this foe that always defeats

but that’s not the point.

Later, look her up on google, 251734 results.

Then think back her ex-lover Janet

that careless brilliance the photographs, poems

her singing voice raw with gitanes & clarity.

I think about the “fallen”,

those casualties to narrative,

the ones who shone with promise flared a few years

then disappeared.

…

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Les Wicks

Hey, Les here.

Flying islands have done such a great job, around 80
titles. Such fabulousness!

Mine came out in 2019 (remember that virus free time?)

Looking forward to reading the other entries!

Les Wicks’ 14^th book of poetry is Belief (Flying Islands, 2019). For 45 years Les has been active in the Australian literary community. He has been a guest at a substantial list of international festivals.

Publication has been seen in over 350 different newspapers, anthologies and magazines across 32 countries in 15 languages.

Equally well known is his work as a publisher and editor. Australia saw Artransit which put poetry/art into Sydney and Newcastle buses but that is just one of dozens of similar roles: some predictable like literary magazines while others range as far afield as publishing a poem on the surface of a river. The most recent publication is To End All Wars (Puncher & Wattmann, Nov 2018).

http://leswicks.tripod.com/lw.htm

Odveig Klyve’s The Farmer’s Pear Tree

from Let’s Take the Blue Sky by Storm

the farmer
looks at the pear tree
outside the window
the old tree that
spring after spring welcomes birds
they return resting their wings
after millions of miles
they build nests and sing
about what they have seen
the forests of steel and concrete
the dark clouds and sunrises
the sounds of waves and weasels
with sharp claws they scrawl the songs
into the bark of the old tree
year by year
e v e r y m o r n i n g
t h e f a r m e r
s p e l l s
o u t t h e
t i m e
t h a t ‘ s
h i d d e n
i n a
b i r d ‘ s
a l p h a b e t