sallymurphy.com.au

Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Rug Hug

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Some weeks it takes me ages to come up with a Poetry Friday post. Other times it’s easy. This week was one of those.

Last Friday, as I read and commented on  fellow Poetry Friday-er Kimberley Hutmacher‘s  poem about her granddaughter’s Blanket Buddy (you can read her poem here), the opening line of my own rhyme about my own blanket came to me. See, although I am maybe too old (what? never!) to carry a blanky around me, I DO have a ruggy, which I make good use of cold days to snuggle on my recliner. So, I just had to write about it. Then, as I wondered how to get a good photo of my rug to go with my words, I remembered that only a week before I had snapped a photo of Murphpup who, very naughtily, had borrowed my rug for a hug of his own.  Perfect!

Here’s the result.

 

The guilty look on his face is because he was caught – but how could I growl at a (slightly scruffy but nevertheless cute) face like that? And its is very wintry here at the moment.

This week’s Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by Mary-Lee at A Year of Reading. I’m snuggled up under my rug, ready to explore lots of poetic goodness. 

Poetry Friday: The Apostrophiser

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Welcome to Poetry Friday. I’ve had a busy week this week, including a lovely visit to Helena College in Darlington, my first school visit for the term. The year ones and twos were very curious when I told them I was officially Doctor Murphy, and amused when I told them I’m a Doctor of Poetry  (weeeeell, it’s complicated to explain that I’m technically a Doctor of Philosophy, but that my topic was children’s poetry).  The rest of the week I’ve been busy with my university job and also preparing for my upcoming trip to Vietnam.

In all this busyness, I wasn’t quite sure what I would share for Poetry Friday. But, as often happens, a poem idea presented itself to me, this time as I muttered to myself about yet another misplaced apostrophe on a sign I read. As I muttered and grumbled to myself – and wished I could reach the sign to correct it – I realised that there was a poem just waiting to be written. So, instead of defacing the sign, I came home and drafted this little offering. I do feel better now, but can’t vow not to keep apostrophising (or de-apostrophising) when the need arises.

Image from clipart-library.com

The Apostrophiser  

She could never ever stand to see

A misplaced, misused apostrophe.

Hanging somewhere that it shouldn’t

Trying to do that which it couldn’t

 

To see this item thus abused

By a punctuator so confused

Left her feeling rather sad

Or, oftentimes, a little mad

 

Her editing hand would start to itch

An overwhelming symptom which

Would see her reaching for a pen

And correcting errors again and again

 

On pamphlets, posters, leaflets, signs

Apostrophes are everywhere!

Anything with errors in its lines

In menus, notes home, emails, books

Not caring if she garnered looks

 

From embarrassed kids, or passers by

Or angry owners who wondered why

She couldn’t let the errors rest

Instead of fixing them with zest

 

But her red pen was always ready

Her apostrophising hand  ever steady

Ridding the world, one at a time

Of dastardly apostrophe crime.

 

(Copyright Sally Murphy, 2018)

 

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is at Reading to the Core, where you will find links to lots of other poetry goodness.

Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poetry Friday: Too Many Books!

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What I love about Poetry Friday is that bloggers from all over the world share their favourite poems and poets each week. What I am challenged about each Poetry Friday is the temptation to buy more poetry books, as my fellow Poetry Friday-ers give tantalising glimpses into collections, anthologies and verse novels that I haven’t yet read. And of course, I can rarely make it through a Poetry Friday without buying a new book or at the very least adding several to my wish list.

Of course, it’s a nice problem to have, but  my house is already overflowing with books, so each new book adds to the unending problem of where to shelve them and how to keep track of them.  But this week that problem lead to something else: a new poem about, of course, books.

Too Many Books

by Sally Murphy

“Too many books?

Too Many books?

One can never have too many books,” she said

And just to be sure

She added one more

To the teetering pile by her bed.

 

“Too many books?

Too Many books?

One can never have too many books!” she cried

As she purchased ten more

From her favourite store

Staggering home  with bookwormish pride.

 

“Too many books?

Too Many books?

One can never have too many books,” she stated

Cramming case after case

Filling every space

With books that she shelved, stacked and crated.

 

“Too many books?

Too Many books?

One can never have too many books!”  she boomed

Till  her house overflowed

And she finally knowed

That her book collection days were

.

.

.

.

.

On hold till she purchased a bigger house.

(And her rhyme pattern was doomed).

Poem copyright Sally Murphy, 2018

 

Have a great Poetry Friday. Today’s roundup (where you can find plenty of  poetry goodness) is hosted by  Heidi at My Juicy Little Universe. I’m off to see what my poetry friends have been up to and buy more books. 

 

 

Poetry Friday: A Shelly Monogram

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It’s Poetry Friday and, after a long, unscheduled absence I am delighted to be back posting a little something – an impromptu poem, written in my head on my morning walk yesterday after I snapped a photo of  something I found on the beach.

See, when I spotted a curly squiggly piece of shell (or coral? I have never quite figure out what makes these squiggles), I stopped to take a picture – then realised that it looked remarkably like a letter S. And, since everything is about me, I decided it was an S for Sally;  but as I walked along, I started thinking about all the other things at the beach that started with S. And, by the time I got to the stairs, a poem had started to form. Which was wonderful, because not only did I have little poem to go with my photo, but I had something to post in time for Poetry Friday. And here it is:

Have a great Poetry Friday. I’m off to check out what my Poetry Friday friends have been up to this week. Can’t wait to catch up with them! You can, too, by visiting the Poetry Friday roundup, which this week is hosted by the team at the Poetry for Children blog, who are celebrating a Great Morning.

 

 

ANZAC Day 2018 – an Overdue Report

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It’s been nearly three months since I last posted here, and since in that last post I shared how excited I was about my upcoming visit to Villers-Bretonneux, it’s been very remiss of me not to post sooner. But of course I was on the road, travelling Europe for six weeks (how lucky am I?) and then, once home, there was so much to catch up on, and then I started to wonder how I could possibly capture the awesomeness of that visit to Villers-Bretonneux. And then I realsied that I could never capture it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give you a glimpse. So here it is.

Here I am rugged up in about a million layers waiting for the dawn service to start. You can see that even though I was freezing, and had been up since 1 am, I’m super excited to be where I am. It’s been a long long time in the planning to be here.

Here are a couple of snaps of the service and the crowd. Because of the light it was difficult to capture the scene or even the size of the crowd (over 8000 people). And, of course, what no photo can capture is the feeling – the most emotional dawn service I have ever attended.

 

And, of course, the school. Surreal to visit a place I have researched, written about, and longed to see for so long.  What you can’t see in the photos is that I had to stand in the rain to get these pics – but I didn’t care a jot!

Only a taste of my visit because oddly, I think the experience was so emotional that, for once, I am lost for words when trying to describe it.  But that doesn’t mean I will ever forget.

Do Not Forget

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Tom helps lay a wreath in 2008

Ten years ago my son Tom was chosen to go on an amazing trip to France to visit the Western Front as part of the premier’s ANZAC Tour. When he attended the dawn service at Villers-Bretonneux I watched on television back at home, and marvelled not just at my son being on the other side of the world,  but also at the amazing connection between the small village of Villers-Bretonneux and the children of Australia.

It was a story I had only recently come to know, but it was also a story I knew needed to be shared so that it wouldn’t be forgotten.

That was the day that I sat down and drafted the story which would become my picture book Do Not Forget Australia.

Ten years later, and at last it is my turn to visit Villers-Bretonneux for myself. On ANZAC Day next week I’ll be attending the dawn service at the  Australian National Memorial at Villers-Bretonneux and later getting to see the school at the centre of the story for myself.

I’m excited. Watch this space for photos and a report.

I’ve packed a copy of the book.