Volume 16 of Broadsheet, November 2015, is an instalment in honour of Australasian poet, Stephen Oliver, for his contribution to trans-tasman poetry. The volume therefore features Oliver’s work, along with poetry from his friends and contacts and a few contributions outside of the theme.
Oliver’s poems are placed in the middle of the volume, with other poets and their writing flowing out of this central feature. One of these poems was Pavel Arsenev’s Translator’s Note, a lovely piece at the start of the issue that worked through the processes of thought. Similar to the way in which a translation is undertaken, the poem explores the way we try to comprehend and understand: “I feel fear. / I am afraid of something, but I don’t know what.”
Oliver’s own poems are both sweet and quirky. This Way Out describes a lush landscape, from fossil to mountain range, and ends with the beautiful image of “Orpheus as he plays / so high and sweet on his moon bone flute”. Another one of his poems included, Lace, has the same light and airy tone as it captures the image of a woman in her home. It is an everyday scene, but Oliver alights it with touches of beauty; the curtains are made of lace and she, too, is described as bright as a dream.
The selection of Oliver’s poems in this issue are proof that he can pull off both the comical and the more poignant side of poetry. Poetry Day Blues is a more casual piece of work, with Oliver using rhyme to create a jaunty little poem about the happenings of National Poetry Day. In a Doctor Seuss-esque rhythm, he describes “Poems on pavements, poems on walls, / Poems at bus stops, poems in halls”. His poem The Departed Guest, meanwhile, returns to more serious themes and encompasses an empty mind as “an abandoned amphitheater”; it describes an intangible loss of knowledge and memory that goes beyond the physical.
Other poems of note were two pieces written by Nicholas Reid. The poem King of Comedy contemplates how time seems to forever click onwards, taking the scene from antique skyscrapers to Vespa scooters and then to the city traffic of Los Angeles. Reid’s poem Ars Amoris was one of my favourite poems in Broadsheet 16, and talks about art and love and the inevitable way they twist and turn around each other. He describes how the art of love can be sonnets, a “plumage of birds in a downriver drift”, the sound of Mozart. And in the final verse, Reid finally talks of how love is also “old you, old me, old us”, a soft and precise ending that closes off the poem nicely.
Broadsheet 16 is a wonderful instalment of various poets, with many writers I had not come across before previously. This little and affordable chapbook promises a collection of new New Zealand poetry and it does not fail to deliver.
Reviewed by Emma Shi
edited by Mark Pirie
Published by The Night Press