sallymurphy.com.au

Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Not Much Poetry Here

by

It’s Poetry  Friday and, like Carol, who is posting the weekly roundup today, one of my goals for the New Year is to participate more in this wonderful  sharing of poetry. And I even sat down to write a poem for today’s post.

But my country is on fire. And, while I did manage to write some lines on this fact, and my feelings, they are not fit to share here because they offer no hope. The poem was part sorrow, part anger at the man elected to run this country and the big interests which have for too long denied that our climate is changing and that action needs to be taken. I wanted my poem to end on a note of postitivity because, believe it or not, I am able to see some positives. The voices being raised by every day people to say ‘enough’, the  thousands of volunteers (and paid workers too) working to fight the fires, to try to keep people safe, to rescue animals, to put pressure on an inept Federal Government to do more,  these are all positives. But when I tried to put that into a poem they sounded like platitudes – and we have heard too many of those.

 

So instead, my non-poetic post is to say that there will be poetry on this blog and in our future. Sad poems, angry poems, and happy poems too. Because we need creativity now more than ever.

From my safe spot on the west coast, I will continue to write, and to live , and even to find joy. I will do what I can, when I can, for those affected by the fire, and for the country I love which will be suffering for a long time. And I will put my anger to good use to join in the calls for change, in Australia and around the world. We need to start treating our earth as the fragile thing it has always been.

Here is to a 2020 filled with poetry and with positive action. You can start with more poetry by visiting Carol’s Corner for the roundup of links. The Maya Angelou poem Carol is sharing is really appropriate at the moment – and always.

Oh, in the midst of my need to share my worries, I almost forgot that I did take the time this week to think about goals/resolutions for 2020. I wanted to come up with one word for the year, but ended up with several.

, poetry quote

Poetry Friday and an Email That Made Me Cry

by

It’s Poetry Friday – a special day of the week but, unfortunately, one I have not had much time to take part in this year.  Life has been hectic -with  a full time day job at Curtin University in Perth, a new book (Bushfire) back  in February, a new verse novel  (Worse Things) scheduled for 2020, a month long residency in Canberra and, of course, lots of other things.

But I’ve been planning to get back to regular postings and an email this morning has given me the impetus.

The email, from a young reader named Ben, was short and sweet but gosh it mad me cry – in a good way. Ben took the time to email and tell me how much he loved my book 1915. It is, he tells me, his favourite book ever. And his favourite part? A poem called ‘Men Don’t Cry’.  I love that Ben especially liked this poem because, tome, it is the essence of the whole book.

 

See, the main character in the book, Stan, is a soldier,fighting at Gallipoli in WW1.  He’s just an ordinary man – a teacher from Bunbury, Western Australia, who has joined up to do what he sees as his duty but is, as so many young men were, confronted by the brutal reality of the war.  He finds himself thinking a lot about courage and bravery.One thing that helps him through is writing poetry and, in the book, we see some of those poems, including one written at a time when he is at his darkest. That a young reader read that poem and loved it means the world to me  and would to Stanley, too, I am sure.

So thanks Ben for your email, which has inspired me to share that poem here today and, at the same time,  jump back into Poetry Friday.

Men Don’t Cry   

Men don’t cry, or so I’ve heard

But here I sit and do

Because, dear friend this damned war

Has done its worst to you.

 

When we first met you made me laugh

You made me smile and more.

We became friends, we became mates

And together we marched to war.

 

Side by side we fought for months

And still you made me grin.

You were brave and tough, your mother’s son

Determined we would win.

 

When I was hurt you lifted me

And helped me toward aid.

That brave decision, sad to say

Was the last one that you made.

 

A shell blast took us both to ground

And you died a hero’s death.

Your only concern your mother dear

Her name on your last breath.

 

Men don’t cry, but if that’s so

Then no more man am I

As on your final resting place

I can only sit and cry.

 

(Sally Murphy, 2015)

 

I’m off to check out the rest of the Poetry Friday goodness which starts at Sloth Reads, where  Rebecca is hosting the round up, starting with a yummy salad poem.

Poetry Friday: A Lucky Home

by

I am so lucky to be part of the Poetry Friday community – poets and poetry lovers from all around the world who post poetry goodness especially on Fridays. I am especially lucky that there are not rules in this community about the regularity of  postings. Every week since my return from Hanoi I  promised myself  this would be the week I finally posted something. But life has been busy – a wedding (my son’s), a new baby (different son), Christmas, birthdays, anniversaries, swimming training. And that’s just the personal stuff. Professionally, I have been busy teaching online, and preparing for a return to oncampus teaching in February, as well as preparing for a new book baby out February 1, running picturebook workshops, and trying to work on the things I drafted in Hanoi.  Phew.

This week, however, I have been espousing the wonders of poetry to my students (future teachers), so it seemed to be the week that I HAD to make the extra effort to get on here and post for Poetry Friday.  Then Friday rolled around and I still hadn’t written anything new and really didn’t know what I would post. Lucky for me, when I went out to water my plants this morning, I found the very inspiration I needed. There, nestled in the branches of my jade plant, was a wasp nest. I grabbed my camera, and took some snaps, and almost instantly had an idea – based on the very reason the jade bush is on my front verandah.  It’s supposed to be lucky!

So, here you have it – a little bit rough , because it’s hot off the press – my first Poetry Friday poem for 2019.

And, because the orange font is a little hard to read, here is the text version:

 

A Lucky Home

Ancient wisdom says

If you plant jade bushes

at your front door

and your back door

good luck will come your way.

But if you are a wasp

and you fix your home

right in the midst

of jadey treasure

all your doors

and all your windows

even your attic

and basement

have lucky views.

And if that jade bush

is on my front porch

you are doubly in luck

as I will let you stay.

(Poem and Image Copyright Sally Murphy 2019)

Now, lucky for me, I get to go and see what my fellow Poetry Fridayers have been up to. You can too, by starting at the round up on Tricia’s Blog, The Miss Rumphius Effect. Trica’s post is a lovely tribute to Mary Oliver, who will be sadly missed by poetry lovers everywhere.

Poetry Friday: Reflections

by

I am in the last two weeks of my Hanoi adventure. Some days it feels like I’ve just arrived; others like I’ve been here forever. Since I last posted I have travelled further afield, seeing  a little more of  Vietnam including glorious Sa Pa,  and three trips to different parts of Ninh Binh Province. I have had a few scary moments and some moments of sheer joy. Luckily more joy than scare, but it’s the blend that keeps life interesting.  Anyway, I have tried to capture some of this in poetry, so rather than rabbiting on, here is what I’ve come up with – firstly on the scary bits:

Moments of fear:     

The only photo I have of the scary cave was too busy keeping my head down – this is a snap just as we exited. the ceiling was slightly higher here.

Crossing a Hanoi road;

Too-fast bus swinging around blind corners

On a narrow mountain road;

Scam taxi driver

Late at night;

Power outage

In a building

Needing electricity to exit;

A boat ride

Through a flooded cave

Where the roof brushes the back of bent head.

 

After each I laugh and say

I’ll write about it.

 

(Sally Murphy, 2018)

 

Secondly, on the  blissful stuff:

What Am I Of?

Beautiful Sa Pa.

I am of the sea.

I like to walk

And breathe the fresh fresh air

Feel the sand beneath my feet

Hear the waves lap on the shore

And feel close to creation.

 

But in the mountains

Of a foreign land

I feel my heart swell

And suddenly

 

I am of the mountain.

I like to walk

And breathe the fresh fresh air

Feel the mud beneath my boots

Hear the waves of rustling green foliage

And feel close to creation

 

And I know

That I am of nature.

(Sally Murphy 2018)

 

And thirdly, because these hands, framed snapped in a  second, deserve a few lines. Thanks to my new Canadian friend, Dave, who these hands belong to.

This time in two weeks I will be on a plane making my way home. I know I will be sad to end this amazing experience – but, of course, can’t wait to get home to my amazing family.

 

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by Michelle at Today’s Little Ditty.

 


PS. This post, and my visit to Hanoi, are made possible by the amazing Asialink Arts Program, and with the funding support of the the Western Australian Government through the Department of Local Government, Sport and Cultural Industries.

Poetry Friday: Poetic Motorbikes

by

One thing I wonder at every day here in Hanoi is the way motorbikes are used – as family vehicles (amazing how many people can ride on one bike!), as shops, as taxis, even – to my amazement – as beds. I have seen many riders stretched out on the back of their parked bike fast asleep.  But the use that amazes me the most is for transportation of stuff. I wish I had started photographing these sooner – photos I didn’t take included a whole single bed innerspring mattress being carried on the seat of the  motorbike and a piano being carried in a tiny trailer behind a motorbike.  I was also delighted to see a boy sitting on the back of the bike driven my his mother. He was not holding on – because he was too busy reading a book!

Anyway, I have started collecting photos of some of what I see being transported, which has made me ponder even more the very exact art of  loading,  and securing that load. And, of course, wondering how often loads come loose or the whole bike topples. I did pass one bike on its side outside a shop, with the shop staff unconcernedly carrying the various scattered boxes into the shop.

 

As I thought about how to put all this into a poem, it occurred to me that the art of loading a motorbike is very like the art of writing a poem. So here’s what I came up with.

Poetic Motorbikes

Loading a Hanoi motorbike

Is much like

Writing a poem.

First you collect

All that you want to include

Then you carefully

Add and layer

Layer and add

Shift things round

Balancing

Balancing

Balancing

Then, when you are done

You take off

Hoping

It reaches

Its destination.

Sometimes it works

And sometimes

You have

gone

too

far.

(Poem Copyright Sally Murphy 2018)

That’s it from me for this Poetry Friday – but don’t forget you can see what other poetry lovers all around the world have posted today by visiting the Poetry Friday Roundup, hosted today by the wonderful Tabatha at The Opposite of Indifference.
PS. This post, and my visit to Hanoi, are made possible by the amazing Asialink Arts Program, and with the funding support of the the Western Australian Government through the  Department of Local Government, Sport and Cultural Industries.

Poetry Friday: Never Alone

by

This week I have been, understandably, a little homesick. Not dreadfully so, but this is the longest I have been without seeing at least one member of my family EVER. And of course I am in a country where I am surrounded by people, but very few of them speak my language, and this is a very new experience for me.  It’s why I came here: because I think it is important to step outside my comfort zone and try new things, and I also think it is good to feel what it likes to be in a minority.

So, my thoughts have turned to commonalities. Because in amongst the strangeness of a foreign country there are many moments that remind me of the universality of human emotions, and the ability to communicate. An exchange with a taxi driver who attempted a little English, with me attempting a little Vietnamese back, lead to us both giggling at our own efforts. A child running with a balloon and squealing made me stop and smile, and the mother following behind met my eye and nodded. A man  on a motorbike was clipped by a bus but luckily was not hurt – but my driver and I both exclaimed.

I tried to capture these thoughts in a poem:

Different but the Same

In a bustling

Busy city

It is easy to feel alone.

But in that busy bustling city

A smile

A giggle

A shared moment

Of shock or horror

Reminds me

That everyone

Is human.

(Sally Murphy, 2018)

And then, after I’d drafted this, three things happened.  First, I decided to go to a meet up of  women, that I heard about through Facebook.But on the way, I got a little lost and, on the verge of giving up and going home, was helped on my way by a stranger, who went out of his way to ensure I got where I was going. Secondly, on my way home from this wonderfully warm morning of chat, I was stopped by a stranger who was lost and, it turned out, I was able to help him (a fellow Aussie!) get his bearings. Thirdly, the discussion in between times lead to us talking about commonalities, and, as a follow up, to sharing of this video from Maya Angelou, all about humanity!

Oh Maya – what a brilliant human being !

Not much else I can say really except have a wonderful Friday.
Poetry Friday this week is hosted by Erin a The Water’s Edge.

PS. This post, and my visit to Hanoi, are made possible by the amazing Asialink Arts Program, and with the funding support of the the Western Australian Government through the  Department of Local Government, Sport and Cultural Industries.