sallymurphy.com.au

Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Sealing a Friendship

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It’s Poetry Friday and this week I have been lucky enough that, in a week of lockdown, I  have been able to keep up my beach walks in the one hour of exercise allowed.  My beach is always beautiful, and always different – no two visits are the same.

This week, there were some special surprises. On Tuesday I had an amazing dolphin encounter (you can see some footage in my post below). And then, because I thought that couldn’t be topped, Wednesday brought an even bigger surprise – a seal! 

Yes, there s/he was, just a couple of metres offshore, splashing and fishing and generally being amazing. Again, you can see some footage in the post below.

So, when I sat down to try to draft a new poem for Poetry Friday, it isn’t surprising that at least one of these creatures had to feature – and, this time, it was the seal.

 

Sealing a   Friendship    

I walked

you swam.

You waved

I waved back

the waves waved too.

I splashed for a closer look

you splashed

with joy.

You caught a fish

I caught your moves

on camera.

I strode

back along the beach

lighter for our meeting.

You swam away

heavy with fish.

I like to think

the  smile beneath my mask

mirrored your smile

beneath the water.

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy, 2021)

 

Today’s Poetry Friday roundup will be hosted by Jone. Swim over there to see what goodies my poetic friends have shared today. I’ll pop in there too – after I’ve had my Friday walk where I know there’ll be more wonders. 

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: Drowning in Poetry

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I love January. As you might have guessed if you visit here regularly I am a beach person and a water person  and January here is peak summer. It’s hot and fine and I can walk on my precious beach every day and swim swim swim, in beach or pool.  If you haven’t seen my beach, here’s a reminder of just how gorgeous it is:

And yes, its often that deserted, though this morning I encountered perhaps 20 other walkers, fishers and swimmers.  When we were in lockdown last year I was lucky to be able to keep up my walks, because this beach is a kilometre from my house, and I continue to share glimpses  and videos through Instagram, in the hopes others who perhaps aren’t so lucky  find some of the joy I feel.

The other thing I love about January is time. My day job, at a university,  is less full-on in January and I have extra time to devote to my writing and research. And, this year, that means poetry – and lots of it! I am working on trying to get an annotated bibliography of Australian verse novels for children and young adults finalised. This project, with three other wonderful volunteers (including Kat Apel), will, when it’s done appear on the NCACL site as a resource for  teachers, parents, researchers and anyone with a passion for verse novels. As part of this most of my reading so far this year has been verse novels – some new to me, some revisited.  It’s felt luxurious to spend so much time reading poetry, and considering it work.

I’ve also been writing new poetry, and working on a new verse novel, as well as  revisiting some of my unpublished poems with hopes of finding homes for them.

In short, I’ve been swimming in poems, and loving it. Which leads, of course, to my poem for this poetry Friday (you did know this was going somewhere, didn’t you?).  I wanted to bring together the two things my January has been all about – the water, and poetry – and here’s where I ended up:

Drowning 

 

I’m drowning in poetry

onomatopoeia

bubbles and burbles

through my lungs.

 

I’m drowning in poetry

rhythm

beats and sways

through my veins.

 

I’m drowning in poetry

rhyme

keeps time

with my heart.

 

I’m drowning in poetry

metaphor

is my life force

my every breath.

 

I’m drowning in poetry

alliteration

measures my  movement

swimming saves me

 

I’m drowning in poetry

and that’s okay with me.

Pound me with poems

make me a victim of verse.

 

(Poem copyright Sally Murphy 2021)

 

I was pretty happy to see that this week’s Poetry Friday host is the amazing Sylvia Vardell and that she is sharing a sneak peak of poetry to be published in 2021. I can’t wait to swim though more of those titles.  Head over to her post to also see what other poetry goodness is being shared this Friday.

 

 

Poetry Friday: Halfway Down

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It’s Poetry Friday and I am thinking, not for the first time, about stairs. This time, I’m celebrating that MY stairs  – the stairs that take me down to the beach – are reopen, after being closed for months and months because of storm damage. Although I could still walk on the beach by driving about ten minutes down the road and accessing the beach from a different point, I have missed my spot, and have never been more happy to climb a set of stairs than that first time last week.

Thinking about stairs almost always leads to me this childhood favourite, from A. A. Milne:

Halfway Down

Halfway down the stairs

Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn’t any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I’m not at the bottom,
I’m not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.
Halfway up the stairs
Isn’t up
And isn’t down.
It isn’t in the nursery,
It isn’t in the  town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
“It isn’t really
Anywhere!
It’s somewhere else
Instead!”

(by A. A. Milne)

I had forgotten this, but when I searched for a link to A. A Milne this morning, I found Robin the Frog’s version of this poem, and had to share. I remember loving this as a child – although Robin sounds so sad, and I feel the poem is more joyful.

Looking at the picture of my stairs you might forgive me for stopping and sitting half way, but I don’t. Sometimes, though, on the way back up, I do stop and stand and take one last deep breath of that air and that view – there isn’t any other view quite like it.

The Poetry Friday Roundup is live now at Teacher Dance. Head over there to step your way through more poetry goodness.

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.

 

 

 

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