Hello everyone. This week's Poetry Friday roundup is hosted by Amy VanDerwater down at The Poem Farm. Next week is the first time I'll be hosting on this blog (eep!). Better make sure I plan ahead for that one.
For today's exercise, I thought I'd try an erasure poem. I guess it's kind of like trying to make a sculpture. I don't know if it held up in the end, but I at least I don't have to come up with the words and it provides an interesting challenge.
Arranged from some text from Monocle magazine
She just wanted
a simple solution
from the paper that keeps
pristine.
She settled on
minimalism.
Each stamped in
colourful stickers.
Perfect.
Hope you guys have a good weekend. & see you next week!😅
After last week, I started perusing some of the poet/poetry book recommendations and came across a familiar illustration style on the covers of a couple of titles from the late Nancy Willard like Pish, Posh, Said Hieronymus Bosch and The Sorcerer's Apprentice. They were illustrated by Leo and Dianne Dillon, who I think is my favourite illustration team. In their interviews they talk of the idea of the 'third artist', where both of their contributions would culminate into something completely different from what they could come up with individually.
Cover for Mansa Musa (2001) /Published by Harcourt Children's Books
Illustration from Pish, Posh, said Hieronymus Bosch. Published by Harcourt
1991. Published by Harcourt Children's Books
The third artist thing reminds me of an episode of Hidden Brain, where it explores the 'edge effect' which is traditionally an ecological concept. It's the point where two different ecosystems meet, and often allows for greater diversity in an area. It's an idea that inspired Yo Yo Ma's musical group Silk Road Ensemble, an eclectic mix of sounds from around the world. How often are we utilising collaboration or taking two contrasting ideas to make something different?
This weekend I'll probably start reading some of the books that arrived from the hold queue at the library. To have a more direct poetry link for today, here's a bit of a poem from the back cover of one of the books A Strange Place to Call Home by Marilyn Singer.
Where it's dark
Where it's deep
Where it's stormy
Where it's steep
Where the rain rarely falls
or the water always races
They survive
strive to thrive
in a world of risky places.
It sounds like I'll have an interesting time learning about different places that animals live in. For the rest of youse, check out the Poetry Friday line up at Carol's blog Beyond Literacy Link :)
Friday already? I was encouraged by the response to last week's post and my entertaining an idea to create more nonfiction poetry. I've put a few books on hold at the library for research and in the meantime thinking about ideas for a possible PB about beaks/or other appendages and maybe a collection of poems on a broader topic. So thanks to you guys for the extra motivation :)
In looking at the craft, I'm trying to keep my eye out for texts that may be useful in exploring aspects of writing poetry. With a little bit of money coming in for my birthday last weekend it's tempting to spend it on books! Any recommendations?
This week's poem was inspired by when I had chicken pox in the 5th grade. My dad stayed home with me during the day and I remember calamine lotion, taking oatmeal baths to alleviate the itching and just hanging out in bed watching old TV programs.
Speaking of youth, I was watching something the other day and they had a story on now 13-year-old Solli Raphael, who last year was named the youngest slam poetry champion at the National Australian Poetry Slam Championships. Imagine having to compete against 1,000 other poets! Here's a recent clip of him from TEDxSydney.
This week's Poetry Friday is kindly hosted by Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge. Check it out and share in the poetry goodness.
Usually when I have the mundane chore of washing dishes in the afternoon and my son is distracted by kids songs on YouTube, I try to find a podcast to get me thinking. Recently on diyMFA the host interviewed author and poet David L. Harrison about writing science poetry for kids. Pretty timely considering last week's Poetry Friday host challenged those participating to write a poem about birds. I tried to do a small amount of reading on some aspect of birds and starting drafting a poem about different kinds of beaks. I couldn't get my act together for last week so I'm posting it now.
Beaks are Neat
Though some have points
and some have hooks,
the beaks of birds
aren't just for looks.
A woodpecker chips
away at bark
to find insects --
hey, that's smart!
Owls have beaks
for eating meat,
and hummingbirds drink
their nectar sweet.
Some use their beaks
to find a mate,
feed their young,
make their nests look great.
There's so many things
a beak can do
There's probably more,
can you name one, too?
- e. mauger (c.) 2018
One of these days I'd be interested in giving my own non-fiction poetry project a go. Is anyone else working on or contemplating their next poetry project?
This week's PF is hosted by Margaret at Reflections on the Teche. Go check out some poetry for your final weekend in August.
Welcome back for another week. I was finally getting over the cold I caught while on holiday, when last night I noticed another one coming on. Maybe my strange hours and random eating habits have caught up to me.
Anywho - I was scrolling through Facebook and saw a post listing phrases popularised or coined by Shakespeare and thought about using a few of them to compose a poem. It reminded me of last week's offering by Mary Lee who cooked us up a blitz poem. This isn't quite that but it's kind of a fun exercise to see how you can arrange something instead of having to come up with something completely new.
Untitled
Knock knock!
Who’s there?
It was a brave new world calling,
And in one fell
swoop
its eaten me out of house and home.
Well,
good riddance!
The old world was cold comfort at best,
like the devil incarnate.
But, let's give the devil his due.
Inside he does have a heart of gold
When he kills,
he only kills with kindness.
This week Molly Hogan is hosting PF. Go on over and say hi!
It's been about a week since coming back from holiday in Perth. We're all finally at the tail end of the colds we caught while away. Thankfully my toddler was asleep when we landed back in Adelaide, as my own head was doing me in because of the congestion!
Despite all of that the change of scenery was good. The winter rain made everything green. I loved the Mediterranean type climate, the Indian Ocean (which I forgot actually does extend to this side of the world) and even the little things like going to the usual supermarket and seeing slightly different things on offer. On the other hand, it didn't always seem far enough away - not with regular access to phones and emails creeping in more than you'd like. Such is the modern dilemma.
Beachy sunsets
This week I was struggling again to get in the mood to write or figure out what to share. Despite the blog being such a casual space, sometimes doubt creeps in and blocks progress. But I was saved by a small hit of inspiration as I looked outside to see a couple of regular visitors to our yard - a pair of Rosellas. Today's little poem is for them.
Rosellas
One bright pair
'neath an olive tree.
Red heads, round bellies
foraging.
From my window,
such a sight.
I watch till they,
at last,
take flight.
- e. mauger
Take a look at the rest of the Poetry Friday round up over at A Year of Reading. 😊 Merry weekend.
Is it the weekend again? It's not Friday here in Australia anymore, but in thinking about poetry to share I suddenly thought of a scene in one of my favourite movies L.A. Story starring Steve Martin. In one attempt to try and win over his would-be love interest played by Victoria Tennant, he starts to recite the following poem:
O pointy birds O pointy pointy, Anoint my head Anointy nointy.
It's Steve Martin, so of course it's silly. I'm going a bit silly myself thinking about packing for a trip to Perth on Sunday. It's just visiting some family and friends so nothing too exotic. But it is the first flight for and with my two-year-old son. I've been telling him all week that we'll be going on a plane -- we'll see if that excitement translates into a fairly uneventful flight. It's not a twenty-something hour journey overseas so we'll survive anyhow. In anticipation, I started to jot down some first draft poetry-like goodness around flying. I'll probably get more inspiration in transit, but for now this is what I've come up with.
In Flight
I wonder how we stay afloat. Is a plane like a boat? Or maybe it was a catapult that sent us up so high. Are we moving? Are we not? I can only feel little bumps and hops. The captain says soon we'll stop I wonder how that'll be. I guess for now we're in the sky, like a buzzard flying high. ****
This week's Poetry Friday host is Sylvia over at Poetry for Children! See everyone next week.
