Poetry Friday: A Poem about Writing a Poem

January 23, 2015 by Sally

I went for a walk last week, and was reflecting on how wonderful exercise is for prompting new writing ideas, or for solving an issue. And right on cue, my brain starting working out how to put what I was thinking about into poetry.

At home, I wrote down those first few lines, and left the paper on my kitchen bench. Later, another stanza came, and later still, a third. I love the way that the barn works like this sometimes. And the poem? Here it is:

You Might Think

You might think I’m walking the dog

or, perhaps, he’s walking me

but in my head, while my legs pace,

I’m writing poetry.

You might think I’m in the shower

singing loud, off-key

but as I soap and warble

I’m writing poetry.

You might think I’m working hard

when at my desk I sit

but often times I simply scribe

the words my head has writ.

Do you have a favourite non-writing activity that leaves you inspired to write?

Have a great Friday – and if you’d like to see more posts about poetry, pop over to A Teaching Life and check out the Poetry Friday round-up.

Why look – it’s a book!

January 20, 2015 by Sally

Actually, it’s a whole boxful of books, just delivered by the delightful local parcel lady.

Nothing nicer in the writing life than finally holding a copy of the book you’ve sweated blood over.

Happy day!

Just Quickly

January 20, 2015 by Sally

Some time ago I was asked to answer ten terrifying questions for the Booktopia Blog. I only just realised that the post was published back in December. You can see what the questions were that were so terrifying – and how I answered them here.

Poetry Friday: Brown Girl Dreaming

January 16, 2015 by Sally

It’s Poetry Friday, and this week I want to talk about a poem I love, in a book I love, even though I only read it for the first time this week.

Perhaps the book first. I bought Brown Girl Dreaming as a gift for myself for Christmas, because I’d heard so many wonderful things about it. Since Christmas I’ve been busy and hadn’t got around to reading it until Myra at Gathering Books shared her responses last Friday, which reminded me to make time to read it for myself – and boy am I glad I did.

Brown Girl Dreaming, by Jacqueline Woodson is an autobiographical verse book cover novel. Woodson allows us to grow up with her, sharing the story of her childhood and what it was like growing up as an African American child in the 1960s. Through the eyes of a child we see the civil rights movement, feelings of difference and a search for identity – as well as good times with family and friends. As an Australian reader I learnt a lot about the time period, and about Woodson’s life, but I also felt that this was not just a book about the United States, or about that particular time period. By connecting with Woodson’s story we also have the opportunity to connect with the experiences of people the world over. It is a universal story just as much as it is a very poignant personal one.

Onto the poem. As well as the themes and subjects I’ve mentioned above, Brown Girl Dreaming also traces Woodson’s early development as a writer – from being given a composition book before she could write, to the joy of being able to write her own name, to her early attempts to write poems and stories. From a young age, she knew she wanted to be writer. My favourite poem of the book, I think (though I bookmarked a dozen) is called ‘When I tell My Family’, and tells of how Woodson’s family react when she tells them she wants to be a writer:

It’s a good hobby, we see how quiet it keeps you.

They say,

But maybe you should be a teacher,

a lawyer,

do hair …

I’ll think about it, I say.

And maybe all of us know

this is just another one of my

stories.

(Jacqueline Woodson, Brown Girl Dreaming, 214, p. 229)

I love the way Woodson shares this moment (I suspect there were many of these moments) through the eyes of her child self. She doesn’t editorialise or tell us that the adults were wrong. She doesn’t say that she was hurt or angry by the adult responses.

Like Woodson, I knew from a young age that I wanted to be a writer, and I had moments like these, too. When I read this poem, I marvelled at how Woodson manages to show us her response so eloquently in those last three lines.

If you haven’t read Brown Girl Dreaming, you are missing out on a beautiful verse novel.

Want more poetry? This week’s Poetry Friday roundup is at Live Your Poem.

Gnomes – and a poem

January 11, 2015 by Sally

As part of a family outing yesterday we stopped in to look at Gnomesville, in the Ferguson Valley about half an hour from home. There are thousands and thousands of gnomes there, all left by visitors. There are gnomes under trees

Gnomes

and in trees:

Gnomes

in houses:

Gnomes

and taking transport:

Gnomes

There was every gnome-pun imaginable, but my favourite was this one:

Gnomes

And there was this guy, who of course is not a gnome, by gnome-body told him that:

Bug

I’m sure there’s a new story or poem brewing from all of this, though it hasn’t come yet. But it did make me think of one I wrote many years ago:

Lucky

A new day dawns, the sun is bright;

I’m basking in the morning light.

The birds they sing their lovely song

And I will listen all day long.

The flowers smell so very sweet;

The grass it grows beneath my feet.

I’m lucky that this is my home

Because, see, I’m a garden gnome.

(© Sally Murphy)

Poetry Friday: Poetry Tag

January 9, 2015 by Sally

It’s Poetry Friday, and this week I’d like to tell you about the poetry game I play with my friend Rebecca Newman, called Poetry Tag. The game, which was Rebecca’s idea, involves each of us taking turns providing the other with a set of words which must then be included in a poem and posted on the Poetry Tag blog.

We’ve been playing tag for just over a year and it’s a lot of fun – though both of us have had times where the set of words we’ve been given has caused consternation. But we always come through, and along the way we’ve stretched ourselves in surprising ways.

The most recent set of words Rebecca set for me were: supper, my and virtue

It took me a while to come up with a poem I’m happy with, but here’s the opening lines of The Last Supper:

At that last supper
the men ate and drank
and hung on your every word
Little knowing it would be
their last meal together –
even when you, my heart,
told them one would soon betray you,
one deny.

(You can read the rest of the poem here).

A poetry challenge is a great way of stretching your poetic muscles. I would never have written a poem on this topic if Rebecca hadn’t chosen those words. What writing challenges do you set for yourself or others?

Looking for more poetry? The Poetry Friday roundup is at Tabatha Yeatts’ Blog.