Smoke Encrypted Whispers

by Samuel Wagan Watson

These poems pulse with the language and images of a mangrove-lined river city, the beckoning highway, the just-glimpsed muse, the tug of childhood and restless ancestors.For the first time Samuel Wagan Watson's poetry has been collected into this stunning volume, which includes a final section of all new work.

Genres: Poetry, School, Literature

206 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2004

Reviews

[Jem]

not rating it i just had to pick a poem for lit

I mean it was fine ig but a lot of it he was just emo about women leaving him so

[Natalie · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5/5

I really enjoyed Watson's collection. He explores the haunting whispers and buried history of First Nation Peoples and there's such a raw and dark beauty embedded in his writing. Not only does he write about the fractured identity of First Nation Peoples but he also captures the essence of these fleeting memories, these snapshots in time which evoke this deep sense of nostalgia and longing.

[Zoe Clark · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is my first time reading a full poetry book. I loved it.

[Courtney · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really enjoyed many of the turns of phrase. Interesting and unexpected uses of language. Enjoyed the repeated motifs of cars and the journey.

[Townsville Library · Rating 5 out of 5]

Read this book in Townsville

[Sargun Saddhar · Rating 3 out of 5]

eh.

[Alo Wijesinghe · Rating 3 out of 5]

we kissed
and said goodbye
discovering that we both had feelings for deserted factories
and abandoned mechanical bits
and for each other
thirty minutes before a flight
and two writers can’t find the words
to ease the tearing of departure

(Reminds me of Anne)

for hours and hours
wandering
away from our parents
away,

about the kids who don’t make it home
kids who were just like us,
innocent explorers
brown water looting
with no shoes, no money
no fear
just the eternity of the mudflat
the sun never setting

(It’s gone, our childhood)

you’d never forget the pelicans
because it was their home too

“Let me out of here ... I’m a winner ... I have a Cup to win!”
“Mr Watson ... you’re not a race horse ... you’re a human being!”

(Alo)
its branches caressing your head
maybe a touch of recognition?
maybe?
how do we know that this could be
our final resting place?

(I don’t really know what love feels like;)

a father shared some final moments
with his little boy
and advised him to watch the mystical water
to wait, and never shed a tear

until this father was content
ready for the long haul
trying to ignore the tears in his little boy’s eyes
watch the tide my son
and wait for me to return
upon a distant tide I will be home
but until then my son
wait
and watch the tide...


(If he dies, then well)

and everyone wanting a window seat
you can name your poison
but you can’t choose who’ll sit next to you



it comes to that morning
when finally you realise: it’s all going to collapse
there is a conclusion that’s yet to be seen

you want to tell them, please don’t crash
or burn
carrying angels in their nose
photos of your children under their wings
close to their heart
cruising across the earth in silence

Sepia

we sit there
night after night
until the close of being
draining the last dregs of amber fluid
in a realm of tungsten candle-light
swollen men
and consumed women
we dance
without regret
telling our feet
at every daybreak



and now, on my own
it’s hard,
finding it hard
finding my way home



Sitting with a colleague in a bar, she turns to me, sort of puzzled, ‘You don’t say much sometimes ... I never know what you’re thinking.’

(As I age - Alo, 25 going onto 26)

Void of life ... void of soul. The deadest soil you could ever walk upon. No substance. No song. But we explored the shoreline anyway.

(Soul Searching after leaving the “Love of my life on a weekday, Deleting the only account she could contact me and vice versa”)

Travelling around the place, experiencing the darkness of different hemispheres, I lost my fear of night.

(Walking around the suburbs in North Balwyn, Victoria, Australia)

[Abigel Wright · Rating 4 out of 5]

A raw, yet colloquial yet wise collection of poems about growing up, identity and discrimination in a beautifully crafted landscape of Brisbane's suburbs.
Normally I am skeptical about Australian literature but this was remarkable.

[Elizabeth · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5

[Brian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderful writing that opens up the contemporary indigenous Australuan experience.

[chlo ✰ · Rating 3 out of 5]

ok some of these were BANGING i love a poetry collection and this is no different. smoke signals is just incredible.

[Aj · Rating 2 out of 5]

The one thing that poetry needs to be is evocative. For me, this just... wasn't.

[Adilah Almas · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 ⭐️

[Danaë Paternoster · Rating 4 out of 5]

Listened to the audiobook on Borrowbox.
Great selection of poems, I enjoyed listening to them.

[Maxine McEwan · Rating 2 out of 5]

2 stars. It's fine but it took me a month to read a poetry book so something just did not click with me.

[Other Terrain · Rating 4 out of 5]

Initially published in 2004 and winner of the NSW Premier’s Literary Awards, acclaimed first First Nations poet Samuel Wagan Watson’s collection, Smoke Encrypted Whispers, is back as part of UQP’s First Nations Classics collections. Including an introduction from award-winning author Tony Birch, the new print brings Wagan Watson’s collection of evocative and imaginative poems to a new readership. Wagan Watson’s poetry blends mundane, everyday activities with imaginative language choices to create a sense of place...(to keep reading this review go to https://www.otherterrainjournal.com.a...).

Thank you to UQP for sending a copy of this moving collection.