::SERIES::
A Wollypog Called Petoskey // Part 1 // Part 2 //
Stella's Destiny // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 //
Dragon by the Nile // Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2
Rosebuds in the Bush // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3
Dragon by the Nile // Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2
Rosebuds in the Bush // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3
::SHORT STORIES::
A Morning Walk
Letter from a Criminal
Feathers
The Sound in the Abbey
Along the Old Road (using the poem below as a stimulus)
To David Campbell
Staying with you at Palerang. I walked
Alone in the sharp grey morning through your paddocks,
And in the creekbed, picked up a stone, sculptured
By water to the outline of a heart.
Then climbed the bank and came on a dead fox:
dew on his fur, he lay as if still running.
Later, you and I walked in the sun. Joe Gullett,
The young collie, ran up a leaning tree,
Barking with pleasure. You too climbed a tree.
No branches within reach: knees, feet and arms
Gripping the trunk, bark-stains on your white trousers
As you slid down again.
And at the end
Of your long strip of earth, there were the graves:
The earliest settlers, quiet under the headstones,
Inside your boundary, close to the old road
Grassed-over many years. And you grew silent.
Tall powerful body, broken nose, fair hair,
You stood beside me, yet you stood apart,
In a moment’s piety towards the dead, and towards
The earth they knew, and were.
Speech is good,
But silence also. Let me do and you did.
Standing in thought by your grave, I fall silent.
- Philip Martin
Lady Catherine Recounts
Reply to Darcy
The Messenger
Letter from a Criminal
Feathers
The Sound in the Abbey
Along the Old Road (using the poem below as a stimulus)
To David Campbell
Staying with you at Palerang. I walked
Alone in the sharp grey morning through your paddocks,
And in the creekbed, picked up a stone, sculptured
By water to the outline of a heart.
Then climbed the bank and came on a dead fox:
dew on his fur, he lay as if still running.
Later, you and I walked in the sun. Joe Gullett,
The young collie, ran up a leaning tree,
Barking with pleasure. You too climbed a tree.
No branches within reach: knees, feet and arms
Gripping the trunk, bark-stains on your white trousers
As you slid down again.
And at the end
Of your long strip of earth, there were the graves:
The earliest settlers, quiet under the headstones,
Inside your boundary, close to the old road
Grassed-over many years. And you grew silent.
Tall powerful body, broken nose, fair hair,
You stood beside me, yet you stood apart,
In a moment’s piety towards the dead, and towards
The earth they knew, and were.
Speech is good,
But silence also. Let me do and you did.
Standing in thought by your grave, I fall silent.
- Philip Martin
Lady Catherine Recounts
Reply to Darcy
The Messenger
::BOOK REVIEWS::
The Lord of the Rings
::ESSAYS::
William Wilberforce
The Assassination of Julius Caesar
::POEMS::
Placement
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