That poetry is WORK. That we must always believe in the link between creativity and value. That there is worth in this kind of work, that there is a direct link between the imagination and the quality of our experience, and in the wealth we create. The health we make. Creativity and profitability, how the two are actually entwined. That they are not separate. That there are lines out there in which we lose the will to live – that people will buy the WHY and not the WHAT. And in this kind of dialogue, the WHY is a poetry capsule swallowed whilst looking ahead, waiting to pay, purchase or pass. And the capsule has little bits of meaning in it, and meaning makes for motivation. And moving on.

Again, this concept of value- of valuable work linked to creativity. Not long now till we can link creativity and profitability in Education? And in our own value system? Not long now till we can forge a way through our strife using our imagination and it need not be instead of, or alongside, or beside, or because of, work. What is worth waiting for? What are we waiting for? What worth can we wind into waiting? 

BRONTE

Swathes of sea rolling in like tiny snow-capped mountains

Dusted by sun to spread glacial and disappear

a young avalanche dies quickly on the rocks

throwing all its arms in the air

before falling back into love

this blinding, peaking

ocean

Sydney writers’ Festival has a shuttle bus which is full every time a session opens its doors. Qpoets came on board to share some words on the short journey to the Quay. I wasn’t able to stand up on mine due to OH&S regulations. A punter wished me ‘good luck’. I sat there clutching the program and a poem in my belly. Silently. A few words on a ticket stub, if curious:

“We used to light fires and fight liars with liquid lungs
we’d pry open closed minds with a flick of our tongues”

 » Jo Sri          

“My favourite word is ‘loaf’.

 Feel your mouth try to prevent it escaping, before it disappears”

 » Scott Sandwich     

‘…what follows life is as full as the silence after lightning strike’

 » CJ Bowerbird      

“I am the blood that sings for your everyday

 You are my shared, broken arm of memory”

 » Eleanor Jackson      

“I’ve been working on this puzzle all my life.

Please don’t tell me there are pieces missing”

 » Miles Merrill         

“2-B or not 2-B? That’s the question.

 Excuse me. My ticket says 2-B. Now you be in my seat”

 » Miles Merrill       

“The both of us are rocking 

   In the grin of our choices”

» Skye Loneragan     

“We dig our heels into a photograph

   Grip-blink the railing, fading into our future”

» Skye Loneragan    

“Our art is still-born, you can hear a coin drop in here.

  Shhh, don’t discuss it. This is bliss– this blinding, peaking ocean”

» Skye Loneragan     

Eleanor Jackson in action, beguiling and befriending and inspiring those in line. All and any queue emergencies taken care of. Perfect Oracle for Enlightening the Tired. POET>

After this somewhat animated rendition of THE LINE WE DRAW – a poem about the line we draw between ages and artforms, and long after the queue had gone in, and punters had listened to their chosen talk at the festival, I received an email from ‘Peter’ (below) to tell me how much his Wait Here woes were alleviated by Q-POETICS. And he even shared the photos he took!

I’m interested in this word, ‘value’ as to what kinds there are and what kind of currency this idea of value creates. What is the shape and size of this ‘coin’? What colour is this dollar that makes things ‘worth coming’ to? Worth. Value. And our Waiting Hours. 

I found a poet in the queue – Simon shared his poems while we were snaking around the corner in our line up, hoping to get in to the talk on climate change at the Sydney Writers Festival – and he finishes by giving me only his first name, because “that’s the only name you need.”