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Welcome to The Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Group

The Red Wheelbarrow Poetry Group – more opportunities for poetry

“So much depends . . .”

 

The Red Wheelbarrow was launched in January 2021 with a view to providing opportunities for poets, and those who love poetry, to meet and read. Our aim is to provide an inclusive platform for poets from diverse traditions, and at different levels of experience.

 

We offer weekly Zoom readings every Thursday at 7:30 p.m. Evenings consist of a reading by a featured poet, lasting for between 25-50 minutes, followed by a ten-minute break and an open-mic session, in which anyone who’s ‘tuned in’ to hear the featured poet would be welcome to read from their own poetry or from the work of another poet. Depending on the length of the open-mic session, we will probably wrap up at around 9:30 p.m. Your hosts will be the poets Jacques Coetzee, Melissa Sussens and Nondwe Mpuma.

 

We hope that you can join us in this adventure: we’re looking forward to providing poets with a vibrant space in which to share their poetry.

 

Yours in poetry,

Eduard Burle, Jacques Coetzee, Melissa Sussens, Nondwe Mpuma

 

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Suggested resources


https://www.facebook.com/otwpoetry
https://poetryinmcgregor.co.za/
https://stanzaspoetry.org/
https://www.ru.ac.za/isea/publications/journals/newcoinpoetry/
https://www.newcontrast.net/
https://www.afsun.co.za/product-category/books/
https://www.facebook.com/deepsouthpublishingco/
http://uhlangapress.co.za/
https://karavanpress.com/karavan-press/
https://dryadpress.co.za/
https://www.modjajibooks.co.za/
http://www.echoinggreenpress.com/
https://www.liferighting.com/
https://johannesburgreviewofbooks.com/topics/poetry/
http://danwyliecriticaldiaries.blogspot.com/
https://www.litnet.co.za/
https://www.africanpoetryprize.org/
https://dyehardinterviews.blogspot.com/
http://dyehard-press.blogspot.com/
https://www.facebook.com/groups/1212939945859233
https://clarkesbooks.co.za/
https://booklounge.co.za/
https://www.facebook.com/exclusivebookscavendish/
https://www.facebook.com/Kalk-Bay-Books-184457614746/
https://blankbooks.co.za/stores

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  • The Red Wheelbarrow Poetry

Updated: Jun 9

Paul Mason


Spend years learning how to become something:

then become it:

that’s it then:

dentist: lawyer: optometrist:

atrophy and putrefaction:

certificates on the desk and walls of the office:

reasons and motives frozen:

c–u–t:

to fit the [frames]:

that’s employment: the ossifying of intentions:

shaping the means to fit the ends:

then the mould sets and the means cease to matter:

the ritual and the repetition:

actions formulated: motives, means and ends encapsulated:

concentrated in the necessary relations:

patients and clients:

the instruments become the life:

the life becomes the instruments:

drill bits and polishers:

contracts and statutes:

optics and eye charts:

there’s the pattern: and so it goes:

gum disease and tooth decay:

libel and delictual damages:

spectacles and contact lenses:

templates for life against Life:

occupation itself:

that’s the occupational hazard.


Featured on 8 April 2021

  • The Red Wheelbarrow Poetry

Updated: Jun 9

Carol Leff

The family graveyard in Schuinsdrift is filling up, the earth still loose after Lanz’s early departure. Avec wine, women and song” reads Uncle Alf’s epitaph, testament to how he lived. Aunt Hazel, who rode a Harley on her 80th, lies a tight fit between Granny’s feet and the doringdraad fence. Rosebushes from Italy flower over mounds that hone bones of young cousins. When I go, do not bury me here (you know I am claustrophobic!) but rather scatter my ashes near the eye of the Marico river so I may return to the source.

[Avbob Poetry Project 2017 / stanzas 13, Sept 2018]


Featured on 8 April 2021

  • The Red Wheelbarrow Poetry

Updated: Jun 9

Bernard O’Donoghue

I couldn't fathom why, one leafless Cloudcast morning he appeared to me, Taking time off from his rind-research To spread his chestnut throat and sing Outside my window. His woodwind Stammering exalted every work-day For weeks after. Only once more I saw him, quite by chance, among The crowding leaves. He didn't lift His head as he pored over his wood-text. Ashamed of the binocular intrusion, Like breath on eggs or love pressed too far, I'm trying to pretend I never saw him.


Featured on 11 March 2021


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