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Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Turtle Joy

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Don’t you love coincidences? On Sunday I was lunching with two lovely new friends – Mary Wilson, Patron of the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust (which brought me here to Adelaide), and fellow writer Elizabeth Hutchins. We had a lovely lunch, but I did find myself slapping away more than one mosquito and found myself reciting a rhyme from a childhood favourite rhyme: ‘She snapped at a mosquito.’

Mary asked what the line was from, and I recited the whole rhyme which, I was surprised, neither of my friends knew:

There was a little turtle.
He lived in a box.
He swam in a puddle.
He climbed on the rocks.
He snapped at a mosquito.
He snapped at a flea.
He snapped at a minnow.
And he snapped at me.
He caught the mosquito.
He caught the flea.
He caught the minnow.
But he didn’t catch me.
And that would have been that, except that very next day I strolled through Adelaide’s parks, and came across a little fenced garden. When I entered I found a tranquil oasis, with paths and plants and grass, and a large pond. I sat for a moment – and then realised the pond was inhabited – by not just one or two turtles, but dozens of them.
What a surprise and how mesmerising to sit for a very long time and contemplate their gentle  movements and the way they appeared and disappeared.
And, of course, this led to me pulling out not just my camera, but also my notepad. And, after a while, a  poem draft.
Turtle Pace

Sometimes it feels

like you must

Madly paddle

just to stay afloat.

Others as if

each stroke

moves you

s l o w l y

in the right direction.

Either way

just remember

once in a while

to pop up for air

or to check out the scenery.

(Sally Murphy, 2023)
I’ve certainly been checking out the scenery here in Adelaide, but have also been making really good progress on my  two novel projects. Life is good. You know what else is good? Poetry Friday.  Catherine will be hosting the roundup today, and I’m off to see what other poetry goodies are on offer. See you there.  Before you go, if need more turtle moments, here’s a little collation of my photos and videos.

Poetry Friday: Dear Herbert

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Hello from Adelaide!

I am really fortunate to be here as the guest of the May Gibbs Children’s Literature Trust, on a Creative Time Fellowship. These fellowships are amazing: each recipient is given the gift of time and space to write, or illustrate, for a whole month.

And what a gift that is. Like so many other creators, I have a day job which keeps me busy, and has kept me especially busy over the Covid years. So the gift of a month out of the daily routine, with accommodation and a change of location so that I don’t slip into usual routines, is amazing. Couple that with the loveliest support from the volunteers at the trust, to ensure I have everything I need, and I could well be in heaven.

While I am here, my goal is to complete drafts of two books – a verse novel and a historical. Both are projects I have planned for some time, and I am really excited to have time to get them down.

The verse novel actually started out as a picture book manuscript, which I just could not get right and so kept putting aside. But, no matter how much I neglected it, for several years the main character Herbert has been whispering to me that I needed to write his story. And, eventually, I realised that Herbert, and the other characters, were going to need more space than a picture book provided, to each tell their stories. They needed a verse novel.

So when I sat down here in Adelaide I had a plan for this story, and was ready to start writing. But something very unexpected happened. Herbert, it seemed, was not going to behave himself. While the other characters were very aware that verse novels are usually written in free verse, Herbert seemed to have other ideas. In fact, he seems to have a poetic mind all of his own!

So, it seems, I am writing a verse novel where the main character just breaks out into rhyme like a Winnie the Pooh sidekick (I half expect a tiddly-pom to appear at any moment). But, oddly, it seems to be working, so far, and I am just going with the flow. And, while I don’t generally share drafts of my work in progress here on my blog, it seemed a good exercise to write to Herbert and tell him what I think about his penchant for rhyme.

Dear Herbert

You’ve been whispering to me for years
telling me your story
dropping little reminders –
like the beautiful daffodils
that bloomed so delightfully
this Spring
and the homeless man I encountered
on my walk this morning.
You have made sure
that I won’t leave your story
to rot
in my ideas folder
or notepad.
You have whispered
plot points
at random times –
some of them most inopportune.
And I have listened
and set aside this time
to get your story into shape.
But why
oh why
oh why
did you not ever tell me
that you must speak in rhyme?
Yours in bemusement
Sally

It didn’t surprise me that Herbert decided he must write back.

Dear Sally

I have a story

that much is true

which  I’ve whispered and muttered

and shouted to you.

You’ve taken your time

to pay me good heed –

the years have gone by

since I planted the seed.

I’ve waited, impatient,

for my day to come

and meantime it seems

I have mastered the drum

of rhythm and rhyme

and all it can do

so pick up the pace

and carry it through.

You’ll see that my story

will work out this way

with your free verse sincerity

and my sense of play.

Love, Herbert

 

Somehow, I think Herbert is right. The little pockets of rhyme are very fun to create and, hopefully, will give a sense of play in the midst of more serious moments. Time will tell.

I’m getting back to work now, but not before I  head over to see what my fellow Poetry Fridayers are doing today. The roundup is hosted by Matt. And, if you’d like to keep up with what I’m doing in Adelaide,  I’m posting daily  glimpses on Instagram .

What I Read in September 2023

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September is done which means it’s time for another round up of what I read last month. I managed nine books,  with old treasures being a recurrent theme here. Here’s what I read.

Books for Children

        1. Farmer Schulz’s Ducks, by Colin Thiele & Mary Milton (Walter  McVitty, 1986). Look at this stunning cover! The inside is just as lovely.  I love Colin Thiele, and was delighted to pick up this first edition hard cover from a local second hand booksale.
        2. Cover shows chidlren playing in school playgroundPlease Mrs Butler, verses by Allan Ahlberg, illustrated by Fritz Wegner (Puffin Books, 1983). Another treasure from the booksale. Ahlberg’s verse is funny, clever and sometimes poignant.
        3. Staying Alive in Year 5Staying Alive in Year 5 , by John Marsden (Piper Books, 1989). Another from the booksale. You can see what a real treasure trove it was! A fun, but also touching story, about the excitement of a teacher with seemingly magical abilities.
        4. How Does Santa Go Down the Chimney? How Does Santa Go Down the Chimney? by Mac Barnett & Jon Klassen (Walker Books, 2023). Not from the booksale – this one came in the mail as a review copy from the publisher. And how glad I was. I LOVE Christmas books, and I love the illustration work of Jon Klassen. Funny text, funny illustrations, sure to be a favourite with my grandies and with you.
        5. Raging Robots and Unruly Uncles (Puffin Books)Raging Robots and Unruly Uncles , by Margaret Mahy (Puffin, 1981). Yes, you guessed it, another from the booksale.  I thought from the title this might be a collection of short stories but is indeed a junior novel about the children of two twin uncles – one who is as saintly as can be, and the other who is wicked and villainous. A whimsical read that I really enjoyed.
        6. The Aboriginal Children’s History of Australia, Written & Illustrated by Australia’s Aboriginal Children (Rigby, 1977) . Another second hand book, though not from the local sale, but tracked down and bought online after I saw a reference to it somewhere. I wanted to see what  how first nations children who were at school when I was a child saw Australia and its history. Well worthwhile reading and contemplating.

Books for Adults

  1. YellowfaceYellowface, by Rebecca F. Kuang (The Borough Press, 2023).  A critique/satire/exploration of the publishing industry through a dark drama.   June Hayward, the viewpoint character and struggling author, steals the unpublished manuscript of the far more successful Athena Liu when the latter dies suddenly. When June rewrites the manuscript it is snapped up by a major publisher – and her career takes off. Except that she is accused both of cultural appropriation and of stealing the manuscript – and events start to spiral out of her control.   It feels kind of meta to even review this book, as it is largely played out through social media from reviewers, readers and others, but I both enjoyed the read and  found myself thinking about the issues it explores.
  2. Mao Tsetung Poems (Foreign Languages Press, 1976). An interesting find at the booksale – a first edition of the poems of Chairman Mao .
  3. Rottnest Island Sketchbook, drawings by Paul Rigby, text by Kirwan Ward (Rigby, 1969). Another second hand book – though I bought this one online.  Doing a little research on the history of Rottnest (more appropriately named Wadjemup, as that is the traditional name)  and while this only a brief overview, it still makes for interesting reading, in spite of its oversight of both the pre-colonial history and some of the terrible history during its time as a penal settlement.

That brings my total for the year to date to 87 books.  Far fewer than last year, but the goal this year has been to read more for pleasure, and less for getting through them. I think I’m managing that.

What have you been reading? I’d love to hear.

 

Poetry Friday: Kookaburras Revisited

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Last Friday I shared, among other things, an image and  poemling about kookaburras. At the same time, I felt a twinge of regret because I knew that when those kookas had visited me, not only had I snapped some quick photos on my phone camera, including the one I shared last week, but I had also got my bigger camera out and taken some better shots. But, as I prepared my blog post, I could not find them no matter how much I searched my computer. So, I gave up, and used the photo I had.

And I told myself it didn’t matter if I had lost those photos – the memory was magical, and it was real, and I didn’t  need photographic evidence.  I even wrote a little poemlet to explore this  realisation:

Who’d have thunk

a  memory

does not need to be captured

on camera

to have been real?

(Sally Murphy, 2023).

But, as is often the way, a few days after I had stopped looking, the photos turned up – while I was looking for something completely different on my computer. And the photos were as lovely and clear as I remembered. There was this one:

and this one

and also, one that was almost a perfect shot – a snap of one kooka flying away.  I love the detail of the feathers, but wish I had got more kookaburra, especially the top, and less fence.  Except, maybe I don’t really wish that – because  the perfection isn’t in the image, it’s in the memory of these three birds visiting me in a way I had never experienced before. Who needs a photo? Still, I wrote another little poemlet about this moment.

Fleeting moment

almost perfectly captured.

(Sally Murphy, 2023).

Speaking of fleeting moments, I can’t hang around today because I am off to a wedding. My lovely niece and her fiancé are to be wed this afternoon, and so I am flying off (see what I did there) to get ready.

Before I go, here is an excerpt from a bush ballad titled The Kookaburras, by John O’Brien, published in 1921:

Fall the shadows on the gullies, fades the purple from the mountain;
And the day that’s passing outwards down the stairways of the sky,
With its kindly deeds and sordid on its folded page recorded,
Waves a friendly hand across the range to bid the world “good-bye.”
Comes a buoyant peal of laughter from the tall, white, slender timber,
Rugged mirth that floods the bushland with the joy of brotherhood,
With the rustic notes sonorous of a happy laughing chorus,
When the kookaburras bless the world because the world is good.

(You can read the rest of the poem here).

And, if you have never heard a kookaburra chorus – or if you just need cheering up today – there’s this:

Jama will be hosting today’s Poetry Friday Roundup. Check it out here.’

 

Hooray for Australia II

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I have been trawling through lots of memories and memorabilia from my childhood, looking for items from a particular year for a book I am planning (more on that another time) and came across a poem I wrote in 193. Coincidentally, today marks the 4oth year of the event which inspired me to write the poem.

I was 15 when Australia II won the America’s Cup, very early in the morning of September 27 Australian time. – and I have a confession to make: while my poem shows just how excited I was by this feat, I actually slept though it. My mum tried to wake me to watch it on television, but, while I did wake up, I also decided against getting up – partly because I had got up for at least one other race in the preceding weeks and, most likely, the cancelled decider a few days earlier.

Of course when I DID get up, much later, it was too late and i was disappointed that I hadn’t made the effort. But I was still just as excited as, seemingly, the whole of Australia that ‘we’ had won the cup.

Anyway, here is the poem I wrote in honour of this event. Note especially that the boat and crew are ‘they’ to start with, but the closer they get to winning, the more I, apparently, was part of it and ‘we’ won.  Story of my life when it comes to sport!

The great Australian hero:

The boat so highly praised –

Australia II who won the challenge,

And left the Americans dazed.

 

They left Perth filled with courage,

Determined they would win,

Needing to fill the yearning

They were feeling within.

 

They made it to the final round

By defeating the English crew,

Then began racing Liberty –

Hooray for Australia II!

 

After only four finals races

Us Aussies were down, three to one,

But still there was courage left

In the hearts of everyone.

 

We fought back, bravely, strongly

And levelled the score three to three,

And fear was beginning to spread

Among the crew of Liberty.

 

The final race grew closer,

The Atmosphere was great,

For all true-blue Australians

September 27 was the big date.

 

We proved that we could do it,

We beat the Americans well,
As Australia II crossed the line

American spirits fell.

 

Great joy spread throughout Australia –

The cup was finally won!

John Bertram and his crew were satisfied,

Their glorious deed was done.

(Sally Adam, 1983)

If you want to know more about the story behind the win, visit the post at the National Museum Website here

 

Poetry Friday: A Look Back at Summer’s End

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It’s Poetry Friday where I join with fellow poetry lovers to celebrate all things poetry. This week, Carol has challenged Poetry Fridayers to find an end-of-summer photo and use it as the inspiration for a poem.

In my part of the world it is not the end of summer. In fact, it is Spring here, and the first hints of Summer are starting to show.  But I love a challenge, so I looked back at the photos I took at the end of the Australian summer, in March.  Additionally, since I am very much a Summer person, and feel a little sad when Summer ends, I thought it would be good to only look for moments of joy.  Turns out, this wasn’t so hard.

Firstly, every year towards the end of Summer, swans visit  the lake in my street. I’m told that they drop in because they are flying from somewhere South of here, to their breeding grounds North of here. Not all stop by – but, when they do, they are usually there for a while.  I love watching them, and they always make for good photo opportunities.  So, here’s my first effort at Carol’s challenge:

When friends drop by

it’s a good time

for a toast.

Bottoms up!

(Poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2023)

Some other friends who visited me in March this year were some kookaburras. I often hear and see kookas around here, but I had never had them so obligingly sit on my (slightly scruffy looking) fence. It was a moment of awe, and of joy.

Summer may be over

but the laughter isn’t.

(Sally Murphy, 2023).

And then there’s George. If you follow me on Instagram you may be very familiar with George (who also has his own Instagram account).  He doesn’t care less about what season it  is, as long as he gets a walk,  and his favourite walk is on the beach –  though to be more accurate it’s a frolic rather than a walk. His more sedate owner does the walking.  Here’s my third effort:

Summer might be over

but that’s okay.

the beach is still here

and so am I

reflecting

on life’s wonders

as I walk each day.

(Poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2023).

All of this reflecting on the end of Summer has been good for me, but I have to confess I am still looking forward to the coming of the new  Summer, and the chance to swim and snorkel and other Summertime pursuits. So I am cheating a little on this challenge and sharing a photo taken just this week. My leucospermum is flowering and, as each little pincushion starts to open, my smile grows.  I love the way my pool fence intrudes into this photo, framing the flower, but also reminding me that soon the pool water will be warm enough for a dip.

Summer is coming!

Golden orbs

herald changing season

filling me with joy!

(poem and photo copyright Sally Murphy, 2023)

Thanks so much Carol for the challenge, which made me smile at memories, and moments to come. Speaking of which, I am off to look at the Poetry Friday roundup, to see what my fellow Poetry Fridayers have to offer on this lovely day.  You are welcome to follow along.

sallymurphy.com.au