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Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: The Heirloom

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Welcome to Poetry Friday. This is my first Poetry Friday post for 2016, and I want to share a poem I wrote in response to an unexpected Christmas gift.

The HeirloomKipling Book

I can tell at once the gift is a book

and I wonder

what it is

my parents

(who gave me my love of words)

have thought to gift me now

that my house and life

are filled with books

I often pass on to them.

I unwrap the parcel

hoping I can show delight

to eager watchers.

I needn’t have worried.

An ageing book of poetry

was never likely to disappoint.

A perfect gift made more so

by my grandmother’s name

etched inside the cover

connecting the three generations

of first owner

gifters

and recipient.

My Grandmother's name, which we once shared.

My Grandmother’s name, which we once shared.

Have a great Friday. This week’s roundup is at Keri Recommends.

Poetry Friday: The Owl and the Pussycat

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I was very spoilt on Mother’s Day last Sunday: with company, with phonecalls, with flowers and chocolate and gifts. And, of course, if I had to pick a favourite out of those, I couldn’t: except I guess that my favourite thing about Mothers Day is remembering how very blessed I am to have six such wonderful children.

But I did want to share a picture of one of my gifts today, because today is Poetry Friday. Here is what my daughter, Emily (otherwise known as Murphlet 2) made for me:

Aren’t they simply divine? And isn’t she both clever AND thoughtful?

In honour of my magnets, I wanted to share the poem they of course represent.

The Owl and the Pussycat

by Edward Lear

The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
   In a beautiful pea-green boat:
They took some honey, and plenty of money
   Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
   And sang to a small guitar,
“O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love,
    What a beautiful Pussy you are,
         You are,
         You are!
What a beautiful Pussy you are!”
Pussy said to the Owl, “You elegant fowl!
   How charmingly sweet you sing!
Oh!  let us be married; too long we have tarried
   But what shall we do for a ring?”
They sailed away, for a year and a day,
   To the land where the Bong-Tree grows
And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood
   With a ring at the end of his nose,
             His nose,
             His nose,
   With a ring at the end of his nose.
“Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling

Edward Lear’s original illustration. Source: Wikipedia

   Your ring?” Said the Piggy, “I will.”
So they took it away, and were married next day
   By the Turkey who lives on the hill.
They dined on mince, and slices of quince,
   Which they ate with a runcible spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,
   They danced by the light of the moon,
             The moon,
             The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.
Almost 150 years since it was first published, this poem still makes people young and old smile. Pretty good, huh? And, it occurred to me as I wrote that last sentence that there is a lovely link here: not only have I shared this poem with my daughter and she with me, but also my own mother shared it with me, and probably her mother shared it with her. So an appropriate way to celebrate mother’s day.
Poetry Friday this week is being hosted by Random Noodling, where you will find a round-up of all the Poetry Friday goodness.poetry-friday-logo
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