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Mud And Flowers Poem

 I always enjoy a challenge and last week fellow poet, Linda Mitchell issued a list of 'Clunker Exchange lines' and invited everyone to take up a line from the list and see where that might lead. we were also invited to exchange a clunker line of our own.  Upon making my choice, I immediately saw potential in the words on offer. I took them and played with the possibilities in my notebook. I gently surrounded them with new words, assisting my chosen line to nestle comfortably in to this new poetic location.  The resulting poem is in the form of Ars Poetica  which I have featured previously.   The Mud And The Flowers Words trip and stumble onto the page Leaving the pen unsettled Leaving the writer pondering the next hesitant action The fate of the very next line.   Those words, There, on the paper No doubt appear as A weedy patch of writing -should never see the light of day But they are there nonetheless Resting uncomfortably Awaiting possible erasure, A pen stroke, Revision, A
Recent posts

Amelia's Frantic Atlantic Crossing -Docupoetrry

Last week attention returned to docupoetry in some of my discussion with fellow poets. That prompted me to return to the poetry vault and unearth this docupoem paying tribute to the brave and fearless, Amelia Earhart.  Docupoetry puts a bit of twist on information text. It contains a dose of fact and wraps it in a protective layer of supportive words. I read recently that marine explorers may have located the crash site of Amelia fatal flight. It currently remains as an enduring mystery. Let's take flight with the brave and daring Amelia as she ventures out to cross the Atlantic ocean, solo.   Amelia’s Aeronautical Achievement In a flight filled with danger wild, icy weather And a broken altimeter Amelia took off early one morning From Newfoundland In her Lockheed Vega -a frantic Atlantic flight unfolded. A copy of a local newspaper tucked under her arm Confirming her departure date And sharing local news far and wide. -No fake news for Amelia.   Along the

Music Moves Poetry

  This week I delved into my extensive poetry vault of unassigned pieces of verse and plucked out a pair of poems connected to the central theme of music. Sometimes it is about poetic form and sometimes it is about topics and themes. This time it is about both.  The first poem is an etheree poem and the second poem is an example of docupoetry. The unifying theme is music. Music is a life long thread in my life, so it is understandable that it should emerge in my poetry. I have a notebook dedicated to the musical memories that have constantly arisen in the course of my life. Music is so entwined in my history. Consider your links to music, your musical history and the influences on your listening tastes. It might surprise you...  Here are two of my music related poems.  Upon Hearing A Song For The First Time   First A note Softly calls Drawing me near Melody unfolds Captivating my heart Each verse a warm, sweet embrace Beguiled by tonal beauty Entranced by the sound of rising notes A ne

When The Circus Leaves Town -Poetry Friday

 Every summer Silver's circus comes to our town at a time when the numbers of visiting holiday makers and locals are at their zenith.  They stay for about a month over summer drawing crowds from all across the peninsula. Then suddenly, they are gone-off to their next location.   I have been inside the bigtop. Here is my poem to these annual circus visitors. I enjoyed the opportunity to indulge in a little wordplay... When The Circus Left Town When the circus left town  And the tent was folded away -The clowns cried The trapeze artist struggled to come to grips with the matter The fire eater contacted an old flame In search of a little warmth While the man they called the human cannonball Left with undue haste As if shot from a - For parts unknown The jugglers Couldn’t handle their despair  And all the while The ringmaster Walked in endless circles Intent on being stoic But still talking in a decidedly loud voice To anyone who would lend him an ear. ©Alan j Wright It is once again P

I Don'T Want to Write A Poem About Cats! -Poetry Friday

I have been this young poet. I have experienced the frustration that descends when topic choice is not offered and you are writing merely to please the teacher. This was me in Grade 5. In the interest of honest disclosure, this poem has autobiogrpahical underpinnings. It is a poem for all those quiet subversives. Names have been changed,  withheld to protect people, ants and cats... This poem is for all those young writers who want ownership, need ownership, in order to write with a sense of authenticity and voice.   I Don’t Want to Write A Poem About Cats Our teacher Ms Hydracklu Has insisted we write a poem about cats. Ms Hydracklu loves cats But they’re not exactly my favourite animal, or topic Since my sister’s cat –Princess Alice Peed in my track shoes. I sit in class Chomping on my pencil And staring at the floor under my seat It seems inspiration has run away to hide It’s turning into a –catastrophe… Suddenly, Ms Hydracklu announces- It doesn’t have to rhyme! I haven’t got a sin

Trinet Poems Revisited

In this post I am turning my attention back to the Trinet, a seven-line poetry form based purely on  its word count. Trinets are terrific! Here are the guidelines for writing a Trinet Poem: 7 lines Lines three and four have 6 words in each line All the other lines have 2 words per line The Trinet has no restrictions for rhyme, subject matter, or syllables. The trinet is pretty straight forward as a poetry form. Here are two examples of Trinet poems- Cake On A Plate Shall we? Should we Have another slice of orange cake? It would be shameful to waste We would Enjoy it I'm sure. Alan j Wright Fly By Night The fly spins constantly in those buzzing, death throe, circles A break dance of mortal magnitude Summertime pest Never welcomed Not mourned. Alan j Wright It is Poetry Friday and our host this week is Irene Latham. Irene's post is all about community Poetry Project and includes the composing of a progressive poem. Check it out at Irene's blog.

Mysterious Mourner Poem

I love the randomness of poetic sparks. I embrace them with enthusiasm. They are a vital life source for poets.  This idea burst upon the scene while scanning through my twitter (X) feed earlier this week.  Social media can be mirky water to navigate, but if we move quickly past the toxic waste, there is treasure to be found.  I came across an extensive rolling conversation where contributors were suggesting possible scenarios for a funeral. Humour and quirky darkness kept me engaged. The inventiveness of the contributions was most evident. Brainstorming at its best. Ideas dripping with potential. So what has emerged from my reading that day is partly found poetry further enhanced by improvisation on text and woven into a brand new poem. I could not have foretold what would spark my poetic juices that day, but that twitter feed has sparked a poem. I am most pleased to have composed this rather subversive ode to wicked intrigue. It reminds me that we must remain open to possibility at

Dansa Poem -Whistler In The Winter Wind

Hold me closer tiny dansa! Today I am devoting my energies to the dansa poetry form. It owes its orign to the Occitan language of Catalonia.  Here are the guidelines for writing the dansa: Opening quintain (or 5-line stanza) followed by quatrains (or 4-line stanzas) The opening line of the first stanza is the final line of every stanza, including the first Rhyme scheme in the opening stanza: AbbaA (capital A represents the refrain) Rhyme scheme in all other stanzas: bbaA There are no rules for subject, length, or meter. So here's my attempt at a Dansa...                     Whistler In The Winter Wind Winter is a bully An unfriendly wind slapped my face An icy blast devoid of grace I wrapped my coat more tightly around me Winter is a bully. The bus shelter offered little respite The prospect for refuge out of sight I willed the bus to arrive Winter is a bully. Then I heard whistling rising up It reached my heart, filled my cup A whiskered man, whistled defiantly Winter is a bully.

Run Roger Run- A Docupoetry Delight

I have featured Docupoetry poems in previous posts. They combine primary source material with poetry writing. A number of sources may be accessed to inspire docupoetry. Sources include: news articles  letters  photographs  diaries, journals  court transcripts  medical records  public records  non-fiction texts reports Poets can therefore access a wide range of documents brimming with poetic potential in the pursuit of such writing.  When writing docupoetry, the poet may arrange lines or phrases from the source texts to create poems, convey their interpretation of the documents through original poetry, or write poems that fall on somewhere between these various objectives. I find this form of poetry  instantly appealing.  Yesterday in a debriefing session with a group of teacher at a nearby school, I mentioned the subject of docupoetry and they expressed interest and curiosity in this poetry form as an alternative way of conveying information. So, here's another docupoem charting Ro

A List Of Poetry Titles Curated By Alan j Wright

 This post is in response to a request arising from an on-line poetry workshop I conducted recently titled- 'Poetry-Graffiti For The Heart.'  I was asked if I had a list of recommended poetry titles. I am often a little reticent to share such lists as I believe it is important for educators/ teachers of poetry to curate their own lists. The titles that spark my passion and interest in poetry may be different to those that inspire others. That said, I have updated a previous list of titles I hope might set the ball rolling for others. I see it as a possible starting point rather than a definitive list. I further suggest that as a teacher of poetry set aside a little time to wander through your school's library and cast an eye over the poetry collection. Have a really good look at the assembled books. Take some books from the shelves and open them and examine the poetry within the covers. If what you are seeing is a  collection of dated, unattractive titles and there doesn