Anthony Dawson

Rookie (01/08/1970 / Camperdown, Sydney)

Anthony Dawson Poems

1. I'M A Liar 4/30/2005
2. Soldiers 4/29/2005
3. Infancy 4/29/2005
4. Hello Modern World 6/2/2005
5. Counting Stars 6/2/2005
6. Stowaways 5/9/2005
7. Artifacts And Satellites 5/9/2005
8. Ripened Mystery 6/2/2005
9. Tabloid 6/2/2005
10. Offerings 4/30/2005
11. To Become Mirrors 5/3/2005
12. The Blood Of Doubt 5/3/2005
13. Hole In The Sky 5/9/2005
14. The Pull Of The Tide 5/8/2005
15. Impending Autumn 5/8/2005
16. Water 5/4/2005
17. Shells 5/4/2005
18. Bohemians Never Snarl 5/7/2005
19. When Time Carves The Deepest Lines 5/7/2005
20. The Peach Face In The Clouds From The West 4/30/2005
21. Broken Backs 4/30/2005
22. Buddha Sits 4/30/2005
23. Wave Hopper 5/4/2005
24. Early Morning 4/29/2005
25. Death, Life And Wine 4/29/2005
26. The Child Inside Looks To The Sky 5/14/2005
27. Vision And Words 5/14/2005
28. Yelling 5/14/2005
29. Celebration 5/14/2005
30. Vow 7/2/2006
31. Phone Booth 5/4/2005
32. Skin 5/8/2005
33. At Least Tommorrow 5/3/2005
34. Rain Dance 4/30/2005
35. Fortunes 5/9/2005
36. Remnants 5/8/2005
37. Scantily Clad Women 5/14/2005
38. The Quarry 6/2/2005
39. Factory Work 4/29/2005
40. Noises In The Night 4/29/2005

Comments about Anthony Dawson

  • Anton K Anton K (11/9/2015 10:32:00 AM)

    Don't listen to Ashley Olson - you are a very fine poet.

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Ashley Olson (4/29/2005 12:11:00 PM)

    Your poem Early Morning was interesting. It took me a couple of times to read it to understand it. However your type of writing style is just not my type. In my eyes your poem was alright.

Best Poem of Anthony Dawson

Shanty Town

Your shanty sits on a hill,

above filth below will.



Shanty of tin and nail,

waterways grey,

living insane.



Corrugated heat traps,

deliberate slum;

social gaps no halfway scale,

zero then one hundred.



Big bellied little children,

not obese,

corruptly diseased,

forever interned in the poorest herd.

Your shanty is fact,

not to the many turned backs which look out of the skyscrapers.

Read the full of Shanty Town

I'M A Liar

I’m a liar at least once a day,

a liar who confesses in some small way.

Richest pickings to fall upon,

sailing could never be smooth in truth.

Blood as thick as ice and mind as hard as tundra ice,

sometimes melted to become a tear.

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