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Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Cruel Mother

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A couple of weeks ago we had family visiting from Victoria, so we took them out for a lovely dinner on the waterfront in town. It was a perfect summer evening and a lovely evening. But the light show we glimpsed in the distance proved to be far more sinister than we imagined.  Here’s my poem in response to that:

Cruel Mother

After dinner

we revel in gentle breeze

across darkening water

enjoy impromptu

lightning light-show

and marvel

at Mother Nature’s beauty.

 

Next day

and next

and next

and next

we watch

the firestorm

lit by that same lightning

destroy

forest

buildings

towns

lives

and wonder

how a mother

can be so cruel.

(Poem copyright S. Murphy 2016)

And, to show the foerocity of what came from that lightning storm, here’s a little footage:

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by A Teaching Life. Head over there to see what other poetry offerings are on this week’s menu.

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: Too Many Sleeps

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It’s Poetry Friday and verrrrrry close to Christmas – but sometimes it seems Christmas will never come. This week I’m sharing a poem that I wrote for the Poetry Tag blog, in response to the two words Rebecca gave me, which were ‘envy’ and ‘run’.

Too Many Sleeps

Run, days, run!

Stop dragging leaden feet

And scurry, hurry, flurry

To Christmas Day.

 

Hop, days, hop!

From one to next to next

Quicker, slicker, ticker

To Christmas Day.

 

Skip, days, skip!

With speed Santa would envy

Racing, pacing, chasing

To Christmas Day.

 

Glide, days, glide

Like runners on a sleigh

Dash, slash, smash

To Christmas Day.

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy 2015)

reindeer

This week’s Poetry Friday roundup is being hosted by Diane at Random Noodling. Enjoy all the poetry goodness, and Merry Christmas to you.

Poetry Friday: An Aussie Christmas

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It’s Poetry Friday and it’s only 2 weeks till Christmas, so to celebrate I thought I’d share an Australian Christmas poem I wrote several years ago.

When I was growing up, all the Christmas stories, songs and television shows focussed on cold, and snow. and hot meals. And every Christmas where I was it would be hot and sunny, and we would try to keep cool with cool drinks and swimming exepditions. It seems a huge contraditicon.  Luckily, in recent years Australian publishers and creators have worked to produce more Australian Christmas content, but still there’s lots of talk of snowmen and icicles and such.

So here’s my Aussie Christmas song:

Aussie Christmas

We sing of jingle bells and snow,

of warm red suits and ho ho ho;

but none of this is quite the way

when it is Christmas here below.

Downunder in good old Aussieland

it’s time for sun and surf and sand.

It’s hot, not cold, it’s summertime

and summer treats are in demand.

Hard work for reindeer in this heat.

Hot roofs would burn their tender feet

and racing through the summer skies

would soon leave them feeling beat.

And as for Santa in fur and such:

he’d soon feel overdressed a touch.

Being snug and warm in blistering heat

isn’t likely to impress him much.

He also needs roos for the job

of sleigh-pulling – an Aussie mob

to get him moving all around

from Sydney town to Iron Knob.

His suit, too, needs an overthrow:

a new outfit, from head to toe.

Some boardies, a singlet and some thongs

would seem to be the way to go.

So let’s not sing of snow and ice,

instead I’ll give you this advice:

roos, utes and summer are the go

for Christmas songs that sound real nice.

So ripper, bonza, beudy, strewth!

Though you might think my song uncouth

it’s true blue and it’s ridgy didge

to sing a song that tells the truth.

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy)

Enjoy the countdown to Christmas – and enjoy more Poetry Friday goodness by visiting  A Teaching Life, where all the posts will be rounded up later today.

Poetry Friday: I Own Poetry

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Welcome to Poetry Friday. Poetry Friday, as a day which celebrates/promotes/savours/espouses poetry, is always special. But this one is extra special for me because I now officially own poetry. Don’t believe me? Well, I have the certificate to prove it:

Poetry Ownership

Of course, as magnanimous as I am, I am happy to share poetry with whoever loves it – and whoever doesn’t yet love it, too. If I kept it all to myself, the world would be a poorer place.  But, to celebrate my acquisition, here’s a poem about poetry (a meta-poem) which I wrote earlier this year for the Poetry Tag blog I share with my friend Rebecca.

Poetry

If you’d like to own a word of your own and support chidlren’s literacy, head to Own a Word.

And, if you are are looking for more poetry goodness, today’s Poetry Friday roundup is  at Buffy’s Blog.

Poetry Friday: My Country, and a Parody

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Welcome to Poetry Friday. It is a beautiful time of year here in Australia, with blue skies, days warm enough to swim, flowers blooming, birds singing, and school holidays and Christmas rapidly approaching. Makes me glad to be alive – and to be Australian. This week, as I’ve been walking, the words of Dorothea Mackellar’s poem about the country, have been going through my head, so I thought I might share two extracted stanzas today:

My Country

by Dorothea Mackellar
Stanza 2

SUnset over backbeach

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of sweeping plains,
Of ragged mountain ranges,
Of droughts and flooding rains.
I love her far horizons,
I love her jewel-sea,
Her beauty and her terror –
The wide brown land for me!

Stanza 6
An opal-hearted country,
A wilful, lavish land –
All you who have not loved her,

You will not understand –
Though earth holds many splendours,

Wherever I may die,
I know to what brown country
My homing thoughts will fly.

(You can read the full poem here. To learn more about the poem and the poet, you can visit the official website).

As is often the case with very famous poems, My Country has been used as a model for new poems, and parodied over and over again. Is this a bad thing? Not in my book. When we tak something familiar and use it as a writing exercise, or to make a statement, we connect with readers with an additional layer of meaning, My favourite parody of My Country is Oscar Krahnvohl’s version, which begins:

I love a sunburnt country,
A land of open drains
Mid-urban sprawl expanded
For cost-accounting gains;
Broad, busy bulldozed acres
Once wastes of fern and trees
Now rapidly enriching
Investors overseas.

and conlcudes, in a stanza I find fitting given recent racist rallies in Australia:

A democratic country!
Where, safe from fear’s attacks
Earth’s children all are equal
(Save yellows, browns and blacks).
Though Man in Space adventure,
Invade the planets nine,
What shall we find to equal
This sunburnt land of mine?
(You can find the whole poem here.)

Do you have a favourite poem parody? I’d love to hear about it.

In the meantime, if you are looking for more poetry goodness, today’s Poetry Friday roundup is being hosted by Carol’s Corner. poetry-friday-logo