Update! So sorry! I assumed there’d be a link… Here it is
I’m not much into poetry, but I like what I like, and right from the start, I’ve been moved by Frank Prem’s poetic way of telling a story. In ‘Small Town Kid’ I felt as if Frank was somehow tapping into my own childhood as a ‘New Australian’. In Devil in the Wind, it was my own memories of Black Saturday that came back to haunt me. Memories of waiting and fear and horror as the full scope of the devastation became apparent…
That’s Frank Prem’s great power – he weaves simple words and images into a visceral reminder of our own stories. Yet he’s an unassuming man with all the quiet strength of a true Aussie.
If you want to become a poet, or a writer, or an artist, but don’t think you can, read Frank’s story and take heart. It is possible. 🙂
Happy Sunday,
Meeks
March 6th, 2020 at 4:31 am
I’ve read Frank’s poetry on his blog. It’s powerful! Thanks for sharing the link, Andrea. Heading over.
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March 6th, 2020 at 8:49 am
I’m so glad you think so too!
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March 2nd, 2020 at 11:14 am
Thank you for the link. Very interesting and inspiring. I’m looking forward to reading more of Frank’s poetry, and the stories… so little time so many talented people, tempting works.
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March 2nd, 2020 at 11:16 am
Oh, and I’ve found and followed Frank on Goodreads 🙂
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March 2nd, 2020 at 2:18 pm
Fantastic! I know he’ll be pleased. Frank’s from Beechworth in VIC so almost a neighbour. 😀
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March 2nd, 2020 at 2:18 pm
-grin- very welcome. 🙂
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March 1st, 2020 at 12:57 pm
Andrea, thank you. I have developed with the support that has come from wonderful people, such as yourself.
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March 1st, 2020 at 1:33 pm
Bah, humbug. 🙂 I’ve just updated my post about this interview with an actual link this time. -sigh- Early Onset Stupidity. 😦
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March 1st, 2020 at 1:40 pm
LMAO!
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March 1st, 2020 at 12:41 pm
Such powerful poems, Meeks. I am not a poetry person either, but I think that good ones really speak to us, as Frank’s do.
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March 1st, 2020 at 12:55 pm
Thank you, Anne
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March 1st, 2020 at 1:34 pm
Yes! There’s nothing pretentious or arty farty about his poetry. Maybe that’s why it grabs the heart strings and won’t let go.
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