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Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Lurkers and Liquid Wonder

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In case you’ve not noticed, I have been taking every opportunity to get into the water and snorkel.   In spite of my  great love of the beach and of swimming, until last year, I had never been snorkelling, and so it is a fresh, exciting hobby.

This week, I got up early and went for a pre-work dip at Omeo Wreck,  one of my favourite spots. Great for a beginner like me, but also always something new.   I spotted a  spotted leatherjacket and followed it for a while. When it stopped under a little arch of wreckage, I took the opportunity to practice my new diving skills, took a breath, aimed my gopro and swam down.

I knew I had the fish in shot, but it wasn’t till later, at home, that I was able to check it. I then took a still shot from the footage, and shared it with friends on facebook. I’m glad I did – because a friend pointed out something I had missed. I wonder if you can see it in the moving footage – which is the view I had in the water:

Did you spot it? The photobombing lurker? If not, don’t feel bad – because I didn’t see it either.
Here’s the still shot:

copyright Sally Murphy, 2021

If you still can’t see it, look  at the sand on the right. Sand with eyes? And a sinister grin?

Now I don’t know if Mr Flathead was thinking of eating Ms Leatherjacket for dinner, and I  can reassure you that when I left, the leatherjacket was still very happily swimming around, but I knew there was a poem in this.

Welcome

Come right in!

Come right in!

You’ll feel welcomed

By my friendly grin.

Can’t see my smile?

You soon will

When I open wide

To let you in!

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy, 2021)

Not to be outdone, my follow-up trip the next morning proved to be even more amazing, though I have not yet captured the poems for this breathtaking octopus encounter:

At the end of this video, you might sense that, while awestruck by the octopus, I was being increasingly aware of what was happening behind it. I spent the next 15 minutes floating and wondering and nearly crying with the joy of this:

I’ve been trying ever since to find the words to capture these amazing moments, so watch this space.

In the meantime, today’s Poetry Friday has lots of Poetry Goodness. Swim over to Heidi’s blog where, she is not only hosting the roundup but also  all the Poetry Friday posts but also celebrating her birthday.

Poetry Friday: Hounds and Birds

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Yesterday I had a visiting hound for a few hours. Sos is a big, gentle greyhound, and spent much of the visit sleeping on my loungeroom floor while I worked nearby. At one point, though, a noise made me look up and I laughed to see Sos  running in his sleep. His legs twitched back and forth, his tail straightened and I swear he was smiling.

Sos  was here while his owner was off working, so I’m convinced he was dreaming of  going home and having his daily walk. When Is napped this photo a little while later, I knew I had to caption it,  with a poem.

Dreams of home, dinner

and morning walks play through mind

of a sleeping hound.

(poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2021)

It was only later that I realised I was writing to the same theme as last week’s post where I wrote about echidna’s dream. Perhaps I am slightly obsessed with sleep at the moment?

Something else I am obsessed with is getting poetry out into the world and into the hearts and hands of readers. So I am delighted that today’s Poetry Friday host, Kathryn Apel, has a brand new book out this week: The Bird in the Herd.

When I saw the title of this book, the rhyme just wouldn’t let me go, and I wanted to play with it. This is for you, Kat:

Have you heard

about the Bird in the Herd?

The Bird in the Herd

is good I’ve heard!

So spread the word

about the bird

the bird in the herd

now that you’ve heard.

And, as I played with birds and herds and words, I also started singing, because it reminded me of this song. If you haven’t heard it for a while, you are welcome for the ear worm I am about to give you:

Congratulations Kat for your new book baby!

You can head over to Kat’s blog to learn more about The Bird in the Herd, and to see the Poetry Friday roundup  Muster.  Have a wonderful Friday!

Poetry Friday: Under the Sea

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This week I was lucky enough to have a little holiday from work – and from the world, it seemed.  I headed to Rottnest Island (which in the local Noongyar language is called Wadjemup), and spent two days snorkelling, riding a bike and relaxing.  I especially wanted to snorkel at a place called Parker Point, on the other side of the island, and hired a bike specially. Last year I cheated and caught the tourist bus.

I got up super early and was the first one in the water. It was so worth it!  I’ve tried to write about it, although the poem is still a draft. And, if you have time, I have cobbled together a video from my gopro footage.  If I had more time I would have edited it better, but hopefully you’ll get a sense of the magic.

 

Wadjemup, Tuesday Morning

Six a.m

and holidaymakers

sleep still

in cottages

languidly enjoying

their break from reality.

But I

am far from my cottage

urging my bike

up hills much steeper than they appeared

from the windows of

the air conditioned bus.

At Parker Point

I stop

feeling sheepish

chaining the bike

when there’s no one else in sight

descend the stairs

and prepare

snorkels

flippers

rashie.

At the edge of the water

I pause

wondering at my sanity

to be here alone

so early.

Too late now

I commit

lunging forward inelegantly

over seagrass

darkly stirring

just inches from my face.

Within metres

I spot my first fish

and I feel myself

surrender

to the lure of the water

and its myriad treasures.

Later

as I float

in a school of silver

that seems to never end

I wonder, briefly,

if those cottage beds

are working the same magic

on those who’ve stayed abed.

(Poem Copyright Sally Murphy,2021)

 

Ruth is hosting the Poetry Friday Roundup. If you drop by there, you might be brave enough to add a fact for the group poem.

Poetry Friday: How to be Happy

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Happy Poetry Friday. This week I have been reading Bill Bailey’s Remarkable Guide to Happiness. A gift from my big sister, this is just the right kind of book to read in January, especially in a January in the midst of a global pandemic.  As you might guess, the book is about happiness, but if you don’t know Bill Bailey’s other work,  you might not know what to expect.  Through a series of vignettes and reflections, Bailey gives his take on moments of happiness in his own life, exploring both what he feels happiness and contentment actually are, and how we might find them. It is funny, but it is also clever, and, more than once, I found myself heading off to follow up on research he mentions.

As I finished the book yesterday, I looked back at the contents page and was struck that it was a list of things he does that make him happy:

Crazy Golf

A Clear-out

Wild Swimming

and so on. Which led me to feel inspired to write a list of my won which led, as you might imagine if you know me, to a list poem.

So, with thanks to Bill Bailey, here is my list:

 

How To Be Happy

Breathe

Bug

 

Eat

Laugh

Love

Sleep

(soundly)

 

Walk on the beach

or through the trees

or swim

 

and swim some more.

Read a good book

(or a bad one

then discard it

half way through

and read another good one).

Write a book

or a poem

or even just a sentence

Be brave

Be bold

Be still

or just BE.

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy, 2021)

Another thing that makes me happy is reading the poetry posts of the Poetry Friday community. Laura Shovan is hosting the roundup this week. Head to her blog to find links to lost more poetry goodness.

Happy Days!

Poetry Friday: Hot Concrete

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Happy hoppy Friday. Why hoppy? Because today I’m going to share a poem with a little hopping involved.  Spring has well and truly arrived in my part of the world and this means that, whenever I can get away with it, my shoes are well and truly off. But there are times when one wishes, very much, that the shoes were on – and that’s what my poem is about.

The Hot Concrete Rap

My shoes are there

But I am here

They are too far

They are not near

 

I need those shoes

I need them now

I must fetch them

The problem’s how

 

To get from here

To over there

To fetch those shoes

I need to wear

 

Without the concrete

Hurting me

The hot concrete

That I can see

 

The sun is hot

The ground is too

There’s only one thing

I can do

 

I must hop

From here to there

To get the shoes

I need to wear

 

I hop on left foot

Then on right

I hop hop hop

With all my might

 

My shoes are here

And I am too

And now each foot

Is in its shoe.

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy)

Now,  hop on over to the Poetry Friday Roundup where, coincidentally, Susan has posted a poem about a different kind of hopper.

Poetry Friday: Leaf it Alone

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Earlier in the year, I was walking along a city street with my family when my eyes were drawn to a flash of gold in the otherwise bare branches of a tree ahead.  I knew instantly, when I realised it was a lone leaf, that I  had to record it. When I looked for the best angle I realised that the windows of the building behind amplified the bare tree, making that gold really pop out.  Snap, the photo was taken.

But later, when I tried to write a poem to match the photo, I drew a blank.  Writing has been slow for me this year, and I just could not find the words to match the image. So, the phot0 sat on my computer and my phone, waiting.

Then, last Friday, the wonderful Carol Varsalona, asked if I had anything to contribute to her Abundant Autumn Gallery and I remembered my photo. I knew it was time!  The photo came out and over the next few days, I started playing with ideas. I ended up with not one, but three possible poems for my image.

First this :

Rare treasure

Last leaf

Reflects, resplendent.

 

Then this:

Last leaf reflects

Saying to herself

‘I look grand in gold’.

But, the one I finally settled on was this:

Golden dancer

Pauses, anticipating

one final  pirouette.

 

I’m hoping it captures that image I have (though didn’t get to see) of that leaf finally letting go and spiraling down to the ground.

Sometimes, a poem doesn’t come until it’s ready . You can’t force it – you have to leave it   leaf it alone until it’s ready. Thanks for helping it along though, Carol.

For more Poetry Friday goodness, pop over to see the Roundup, hosted by Janice at Salt City Verse.