sallymurphy.com.au

Sally Murphy, Australian author

Poetry Friday: Small Things

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Last  Friday I wrote about the big thing I was getting ready to do – swim the 3.6 km around the Busselton Jetty, in an annual race.

On Sunday I did that big thing – and came out of the water feeling accomplished and pleased that, in spite of having an

After the race.

interrupted preparation/training this year, I still did a time I was really happy with.

But, that big thing, while it was lovely, was topped off by a seemingly small thing.  After the swim, I ran into a friend (hello Julie!)  I hadn’t seen for at least two years, who had also swum in the event. That was lovely in itself – but she told me that she had read my poem last Friday, and that while she was swimming it was in her head.  Isn’t that just a lovely thing – to think of my swimming poem being in another swimmer’s head as she swam?

Later that day I had a text message from my mum (hi Mum!), who lives two hours away – and she wanted to tell me that she’d dropped in on my Poetry Friday post too, and that she’d been thinking about the poem – and me – while I was swimming. So there was my poem swimming around in Mum’s head too!

On Tuesday I posted my weekly Teacher Tuesday post, which was, perhaps unusually, not about poetry this week.  But on Wednesday, at a work meeting, a colleague (and friend – Hi Jane!) told me how much she loved that post – and wished she’d had such a practical strategy when she was a classroom teacher. What a generous piece of feedback.

And later on Wednesday, a swimming friend (who probably isn’t reading this) stopped me after another meeting to make sure I was going to come swimming this morning – which I will be doing just as soon as I get this post up.

Four small moments – small things – that each, for me, meant a lot.  People taking the time to say ‘I see you ‘ or ‘I see your work’.  Maybe those small things meant so much because in the midst of all that loveliness I was  swimming through a super busy week, with some tricky things to navigate. Or maybe those small things meant so much because, actually, small things are really big things in disguise.

I don’t know. But when I sat down to think about what to post today, I decided that small things could be encapsulated in small poems.   And I remembered hay(na)ku – which I also call six word poems, and which I have shared before. So here are two hay(na)ku  dedicated to those people who brightened my week with their small gestures:

A

poem swims

across lyrical seas.

2.

Your

unexpected  compliment

made my day.

 

And then, because I had written two, I was on a roll and couldn’t help but write two more, about other small things that made me smile this week.

3.

A

stranger smiles.

Two tiny butterflies

My heart fills.

4.

Butterfly

flutters by:

a living flower.

If you haven’t guessed it , a hay(na)ku is a poem with really only one rule – it has six words (1 word, then two then 3). Small poems, butt hey can say an awful lot.

Now I’m off for that first-thing-Friday swim. How lucky am I? And later I’ll be swimming across the Poetry Friday waves, checking out what my poetic friends have to offer this week. The round up is hosted by  Molly – swim on over and ride those waves.

 

 

Poetry Friday: Me and the Sea

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It’s Poetry Friday and I am thinking – a lot – about swimming. This is, in part, because in two days I will be participating in the Busselton Jetty Swim, an annual swim around a mile-long jetty.  I’ve written about that swim before here. This year will be my seventh time.

I’ve always been a swimmer – I learnt to swim on family holidays by the beach, and in our local swimming pool which, conveniently, was in the street where I lived in a town called Collie.  As soon as I was old enough I joined the Collie Swimming Club – starting in Tadpoles and working my way through to being part of the  main group and even, at one stage, club captain.

I was a good swimmer – never the best in the club, nor in my age group, but good enough to compete. And I loved it. I loved the feeling of being in the water, and I loved belonging to a swimming club.

When I left school I thought I was too old to be in a club, so my swimming changed to being for leisure, but when I moved back to to the country, I went back to lap swimming whenever time allowed.  Then, six or seven years ago, I realised that if I was ever going to fulfil a goal I had of swimming in the annual jetty swim, I’d better get serious.

So I joined the local Masters Swimming Club, put an entry in for the race, and got training.  One of the best things I ever did! Since then I have swum each year in that race, but I’ve also  rediscovered the absolute joy of swimming. I train with the club when I can, at the pool or at the beach, and I swim by myself other times.

Do I break records? Nope. Do I come out of the water with a big smile on my face? Almost every time. Because for me swimming is not just exercise – it’s therapy. It doesn’t matter how busy I am in my work life, or how worried I am about my family, or how  many rejections I’ve had for my writing, or how many deadlines I have – when I am in the water, there is only me, and the water.  Of course, when I’m swimming with my clubmates and friends, I’m not truly alone – and when we stop I adore being with them, and laughing and talking about life or empathising about sore muscles – but when I’m actually swimming, it’s just me and the sea (or the pool, but that doesn’t rhyme so well).

I’ve been trying to capture that feeling in a poem.  Here’s it’s current form.

Me and the Sea

Splash!

I’m in

And

Stroking

Stroking

Stroking.

Turn head

Breath in

Turn back

Breathe out

And

Stroke

Stroke

Stroke

Breathe in

And out

And stroke

And kick.

There is no one else here

Just me

And the sea

Washing tension from my body

Washing turmoil

From my brain

Stroke

Stroke

Stroke

I am free.

I am me.

(Copyright Sally Murphy 2023)

And here’s a poem I wrote about the jetty (and shared here before) that I wrote before I ever swam around it. You can see just what a magnificent structure it is.

 

Not every one’s a swimmer – but I think most people have something they do that really gives them joy, even if it isn’t always easy. I’d love to hear about yours!

In the meantime I am off to find more joy by reading the poetry of my Poetry Friday friends. Carol has the roundup this week.

 

A Cover Reveal: Queen Narelle is coming

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Can you hear the trumpets sounding?

Da da da daaaaaaa.

Can you hear the drums drumming?

Bom bom bom bom bom bom bom bom

Can you hear the people cheering?

Hurrah hurrah hurrah hurrah hurrah

(You can’t? Well you’ll just have to imagine then!)

Please rise and welcome…

Queen Narelle!

Who is Queen Narelle? Well, as well as being the title of my upcoming verse novel, she is also a rather delightful, clever, and very regal cat. And today she is here because it is cover reveal day!

And, rather than keeping you (and Queen Narelle) waiting, here it is:

Isn’t it lovely? Simon O’Carrigan has done a beautiful job of bringing my little cat to life. And the design team at Walker Books have then worked some extra magic to make the cover simply scrumptious.

You do have to wait a little longer to find out what’s inside that cover – release date is June 3 – but I look forward to sharing Narelle’s story, as well as that of her human, Maddie, with readers of all ages.

It’s extra fitting that I am revealing the cover today, because Queen Narelle is a verse novel, and, of course,  today is Poetry Friday.  So, to top off the celebration, I thought I’d share a couple of cat poems. One of my own –  Marmalade and Marmaduke – published in the School Magazine and then brought to life with a reading by Geoffrey McSkimming, and artwork by Matt Ottley.

 

and another, a favourite from my childhood, by Eleanor Farjeon

Cats Sleep Anywhere

Cats sleep anywhere,
Any table, any chair
Top of piano, window-ledge,
In the middle, on the edge,
Open drawer, empty shoe,
Anybody’s lap will do!
Fitted in a cardboard box,
In the cupboard, with your frocks-
Anywhere! They don’t care!
Cats sleep anywhere.

by Eleanor Farjeon

I do love cat poems – and, while my dog George is less impressed, I cannot wait to share Queen Narelle with you, in paperback and in ebook format   in June.

Want more poems? Come with me – I am off to pounce on the delights of Poetry Friday, with the Roundup hosted by Jan at Bookseed Studio.

Poetry Friday: A Spam Poem

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It’s Poetry Friday and when I came to my website to decide what to post, the first thing I noticed was the number of spam comments waiting for my approval – or, in fact, my non-approval, because I really do not approve of spam comments, especially ones which I know are going to lead the reader to some nefarious website.

But, because I have been enjoying writing found poems, and especially black out poetry, lately, I  couldn’t resist a quick scan of some of these messages, looking for some gems to craft a found poem. So, here you have it – a found poem crafted from my spam messages – which have now been carefully deleted.

Spam

Watch movies

before anyone else

foreign movies

master movies

every day!

Nurturing campaigns

cheap auto insurance

private advancement:

a completely new marketplace.

Congratulations!

 

Not my best ever poem – but at least I found a use for some of that spam.

As I said, I’ve had a bit of fun with found poetry lately – and a future verse novel (slated for 2024 release, so there’s a bit of a wait) makes use of the form. I’ve also been writing found poems using words from some of my reading, and sharing them over on my  Instagram account. This one came from a page of the classic book Heidi.

A little more satisfying than spam, I’m sure you’ll agree.

You know what else is more satisfying than  spam?  A midnight feast of leftovers. Jama is hosting this week’s roundup, and sharing a fun thanksgiving poem, too.  Head over there to join in the feast.

 

 

Poetry Friday: We Will Remember

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It is Poetry Friday and it is also Remembrance Day.

If you have ever attended a Remembrance Day service or, if you’re Australian, an ANZAC Service, you will have heard, and perhaps even recited these words, as the Ode of Remembrance:

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them…

But you may not have realised these words come from a much longer poem, beautiful and poignant in its entirety. So, for today, I give you the full poem, read  as it should be read by  Sir John Gielgud:

 

I also wanted to share the war poem that had a profound impact on me as a teenager – The Ball Turret Gunner – shocking, brief and utterly devastating – but because it is not in the public domain, I’ll just share a link to where it is shared with permission. That last line is shocking, which is why it is so very powerful.

This Remembrance Day I’ll be thinking of those who have fought and died, but also of all those around the world who are still experiencing war – as participants or as innocent victims. And I’ll keep hoping that one day peace can be  a real, enduring thing.

Today’s Poetry Friday Roundup will be hosted by Buffy

Poetry Friday: Wordy 30s

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Last week, I smiled when I read Molly’s post, where she shared her efforts writing Wordy 30s, a poetic form shared with her by another Poetry Friday friend, Mary Lee Hahn, who found it, I believe, here.

In short, the form is simple: write a poem with exactly 30 letters.

Wait, that isn’t really simple – to share a complete thought in just 30 letters? And there’s one more rule. Every line must have exactly the same number of letters. So – 6 lines with letters each, or 5 lines with 6 letters each, or even three lines with ten letters each.   If you are a Wordle-devotee like me, you will possibly see that this is a bit like wordle-poetry – except instead of guessing the five letter word (or six, or whatever), you need to find a way to make the words say something. And, because it’s poetry, they should be considered, organised and, well, poetic.

It took me a while to get started, but eventually I came up with a 6 x 5 about the thing that has been most on my mind this week: my new furbaby George. And why wouldn’t he be front and centre on my mind, having been with me only since last Friday? Anyway, here’s what I came up with

George

brings

warmth

wisdom

gaiety.

  © Sally Murphy 2022)

But, once I’d written a 6 x 5, I knew almost straight away I had to try a 5 x 6. I  also (nor surprisingly) spent a great deal of this week thinking about poetry – and, wouldn’t you know, it – poetry has five letters.  And  poetry makes me feel as happy as this guy, so why wouldn’t I write about it?

Bug

Write

poems

share

poems

smile

relax.

 ( © Sally Murphy 2022)

Okay, job done. Except, just like Wordle, this form is a little addictive and I couldn’t stop. I started wondering whether it would work for a 10 x 3. Could I actually use 10 3 letters words in a row and still make sense? You can decide:

Top

hat

and

bow

tie.

Off

for

tea

and

jam.

(  © Sally Murphy 2022)

I dunno – but maybe this is someone setting off for a Poetry Friday tea party?

Not done yet, I figured I’d try a 3 x 10. I knew this one would be hard, but maybe my little bug friend was dancing in my brain my then because this is what I came up with (after scouring a list of 10 letter words, looking for connections:

 

Quicksteps

Hokeypokey

Joypopping!

(© Sally Murphy 2022)

And then, of course, my mind wandered to the final combination – 2 x 15. Possible? Again, I’m still not sure, because again, all I could do was scour a list of 15 letter words and look for connections. I found one in books:

Journalisations

bibliotherapies.

(  © Sally Murphy 2022)

Not sure it’s a poem – but it was good exercise.

Lastly, I knew there was one possible last way of doing this: to find a single 30 letter word, which spoke all by itself. A search found only 1 30 letter word. And it’s a medical term. So, the only way I could  try to make it poetic was to add a title, which I guess is cheating, but here goes:

1 Thing I Hope I Have not Inherited

Pseudopseudohypoparathyroidism

( © Sally Murphy 2022)

And of course, this search led me to consider just how long a word can be. According to Wikipedia – the answer to this question is ‘it depends’. It depends on whether we accept medical and technical words, or nonsense words. If we accept both, the longest word is – wait for it – 189,819 letters long. Which I can’t even fit into this post, let alone ever attempt to use in a poem.

Another thing to watch is all the other amazing posts for Poetry Friday. This week’s roundup is hosted by Matt. Head over to his blog later today to see the full list of Poetry Friday goodness. 

 

Oh, in late-breaking news, George has decided he wants to be part of Poetry Friday too. He’s posted a Georgeku on Instagram. Clever George!

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Guru George (@georgesguidetolife)

 

 

 

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