Dorothy Featherstone Porter
Biography of Dorothy Featherstone Porter
Dorothy Featherstone Porter (26 March 1954 – 10 December 2008) was an Australian poet.
Porter was born in Sydney. Her father was barrister Chester Porter and her mother, Jean, was a high school chemistry teacher. Porter attended the Queenwood School for Girls. She graduated from the University of Sydney in 1975 with a Bachelor of Arts majoring in English and History.
Porter had been suffering from breast cancer for four years before her death, but "many thought she was winning the battle," according to journalist Matt Buchanan. In the last three weeks of her life she became very sick and was admitted to hospital, where she was in intensive care for the final 10 days. She died aged 54 on 10 December 2008.
On 21 February 2010, actress Cate Blanchett read excerpts from Porter's posthumously published short work on literary criticism and emotions in literature, On Passion, at the Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne.
Dorothy Featherstone Porter Poems
The Hampstead Heath Toad
It was one of those beautiful English summer nights when levitating
After the Cleopatra exhibition, British Museum Is it the bite
I get magic (sometimes I get more than I bargain for)
Charkes Baudelaire's Grave
How do you bury a poet? Surely not how they buried Baudelaire
I dreamt last night that I lay naked at the bottom of a soft black sea
When pushing back strands of her hair straying around her dangerous quick-quipping mouth
No wonder you love Europa. You will never crack the crust
trench it's your grandfather's word not yours
Death adder, will I ever learn when to step on you?
As Cunning As Serpente
You can cradle this snake's head for only so long
Pine trees come most alive dripping with resin in a fire
The Emerald Leopard
You're lost if you steer. How did you get here? Leopard, that smell in the air. Leopard, that spoor at your feet.
Exuberance with bloody hands
What do the Minoans teach us - exuberance with bloody hands? The wind the Goddess brings is both wonderful and vicious
Goebbels was right. You can be told to hate anything.
Goebbels was right.
You can be told
to hate anything.
so many, so white,
so close to the dock