Brendan Faithfull is an emerging, traditional form poet in Melbourne. Brendan grew up in the village of Malmsbury, where he first discovered Shakespeare’s Sonnets and Byron’s poetical works. Brendan studied Politics, Economics and Literature at La Trobe and Melbourne Universities. At UoM Brendan also studied Poetry under Emeritus Professor Kevin Brophy. Brendan has featured in Melbourne Writers Group’s Heroes & Villains, Creativity Webzine, The Creative Issue, Miller’s Pond Poetry and Grand Little Things. Brendan is also slated to appear in The Creative Issues upcoming COVID special. Brendan continues to write poetry between modelling, political campaigning and managing his LARP, Exodus.
Markets and Hawking
There is the hope sustained by us all that we shall get the furnishings and fruit, got at a price which is affordable the thing for which the desired purpose suits; feeding hunger by food, chills wamred by cloth, all that which might keep earthly pains at bay promised by hawkers with goods held aloft sold on behalf of Marketeers, who do not bray. When the item is polished and shining (to draw the parakeets who would buy it) summoned then the Hawker who is pining to place the piece in any hands it fits. The birds down in the street who all preenéd pass quickly seeking the latest dressing, for Marketeers long ago had gleaned the Parakeets buy with little pressing So the Hawkers came then into their own learning that false troth of puffed birds splendor to sell Parakeets but a polished stone And while this true havoc on their grandeur is wrought by Marketeers, now unseen, the Parakeets buy tickets to stages showing plays of birds beautifully preened, so birds buy stones and Marketeers buy them cages.
In this life there are but little glories few honours, fewer battles and less truths of the kind many seek for their stories when past the fulsome vigour of their youth. And little more in their life than before bounties, victories and revelations few for the mild efforts that many bore on their march toward their desolation.
At this time there runs a course coming short and will diverge down one of two new paths, I think of how quiet are the distraught when the rudder, now steering them to harms, is in the hand of those who are immune to each paths harms and dangers manifold while the rudder wake silently consumes and makes that which is poor more terrible. Where is the end then of the rudders wake, when is the shifting turbulence reprieved? The vain expect the helm, the course to make but often these fail the waves to relieve. The course runs short, they demanding now the helm and the wake of the rudder grows and grows as the demanding immune from wake’s harm are now demanding steering toward woes.