My earliest memory of writing poetry was when I was in Grade 4. I wrote a poem about springtime. That day we all wrote poems about springtime because that was the expectation back then. That was writing as we knew it back. Teachers handed out the topic and the genre and we the young and inexperienced writers, dutifully responded. I recall my classmates liking my written efforts and suggesting I share my poem with our teacher, Mr Manzie. So, I took their advice and Mr Manzie liked my poem too. He invited me to share it with the class. When I read the poem aloud to the class their reaction was to clap in appreciation. This was a totally new experience. All these years later, I cannot recall the actual words of that ancient poem. They have long vanished. However, I have never forgotten the feelings that washed over me knowing other people enjoyed my written composition, my humble poem. The reaction to my poem ignited a spark energizing me to continue writing poetry, to persist...
The recent snow storms in New York evoked memories of my six years living and working out of the city that nevers sleeps. Until moving to New York snow had been something of a rarity. The nearest snow fields being a three hour drive from my coastal home near Melbourne. To experience snowfall measured in feet was beyond my experience. The blizzard of 2006 delivered in excess of two feet of snow and my wonder and awe was off the scale. I felt compelled to write about the experience at that time and also took multiple photographs. Poets respond to the world around them. This incredible natural event was not to be denied. My response at that time employed a classic rhyming structure (AABB) with four line stanzas. I only occasionally write in that style these days. I feel compelled to recover the poem and share it before it melts... Snowstorm Scenes in New York The city, wrapped in twilight's quiet glow, Became a blur beneath the falling snow. New York, so loud and restless just ...