Tautonyms are  words containing two identical or similar parts that share a rhyme (a segment, syllable, or morpheme).  Tautonyms are also referred to as 'rhyming reduplicatives.'   These wonderful word pairs provide a poet with opportunities to indulge in a little word play. They are everyday utterances that deliver delight. So, without hesitation, I dived straight in for some tautonym tomfoolery. May I be so bold as to advise you to read the poem aloud? It adds to the experience of these tautonyms tripping off the tongue. Focus On The Hocus-Pocus Don’t shilly-shally Not even for an itty bitty. In the hurly burly, Just remember to razzle dazzle. Holy moly, It’s easy-peasy. Jeepers creepers, Use your peepers Don’t boogie woogie Or be arty-farty And all higgledy-piggledy. Forget the mumbo-jumbo Avoid double-trouble Don’t be wishy-washy And everything will be super-duper. Just make sure silly-billy Doesn’t get the heebie-jeebies When it co...

I am grateful to fellow Poetry Friday participant, Ramona Behnke for alerting me to Padraig O'Tuamo's podcast, 'Poetry Unbound.'  I undertook some focused listening and just happened to land on an episode highlighting the poem 'When In Doubt' by Sandra Cisneros. Powerful words from Sandra Cisneros, author of the children's classic, ‘The House On Mango Street.' I first became aware of Sandra's work when living and teaching in New York. I was immediately taken by the writer's ability to capture the voice of a young girl living in Chicago's Latino sector. In a series of stunning vignettes, the young girl's story unfolds. So, it was with this background knowledge I found myself keen to explore this promise of a poem...   The very moment I heard Padraigh read Sandra Cisneros's words I felt a compelling need to share the poem. It presents as a roadmap for living. It further enhances my view of the writer and poet. WHEN IN DOUBT When in doub...

  The latest addition to my ever expanding collection of Verse Novels. This one titled, 'The Only Branch Of The Family Tree' is written by Australia's Sherryl Clark and deals with the issue of family estrangement.  Estrangement is a surprisingly common phenomenon in families and each story is different. The thing these stories have in common is grief and a sense of loss.  It's a quick read. I read it yesterday over lunch. An engaging read, thoughtfully written.  The story opens with a teacher asking students to share their individual family history and develops from there.  Published in 2025. Suitable for year 3-6.

  I read Andy Jackson's mash up poem 'Unhomely' in his anthology, 'Human Looking.' Andy Jackson chose to alternate lines with Randolph Bourne's 1911 essay 'The Handicapped.'  Flowing on from this focused reading I find myself keen to also explore this poetic approach. I have subsequently chosen Jaan Kaplinski's 'The Washing Never Gets Done' to do a little word weaving of my own.  Each Of Us Is In A State Of Becoming Alternating lines with Jaan Kaplinski’s 'The Washing Never Gets Done' Bob Dylan contends we are never complete Existing in a state of forever becoming, Always becoming Something new, something different All around Hanoi people continually tinker, install and rebuild, continually- The washing never gets done Resolution and completion seemingly less important than action -Action matters more The furnace doesn’t get heated, Books never get read, Incomplete buildings appear everywhere, Construction in an obvious state of flux ...

 Today is The International Day of Light. Today we celebrate light and its role in science culture, art, education and development. Light is critical to our survival on earth and the survival of animals, plants and smaller organisms. For me, the meaning of life is inextricably connected to shining light into dark places, for it is a sanitizer.  ' There is always light. If only we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.' Amanda Gorman And so I shall enlighten  you, dear reader with a poem to celebrate this special day.   Becoming Lighthearted Don’t hide your light under a bushel -Or down the back of the couch for that matter Gather up all the light you can muster And drive away the shadows of darkness Release it willingly Light’s journey Is endless It penetrates the horror of war zones It visits shattered lives Fractured communities Sharing its restorative grace It delivers solace to fractured hearts Offering renewed hope and a hand up  It...

 Tomorrow, the Australian nation goes to the polls. not all of them I might add, because almost 4 million of us have voted early to avoid the long queues. The election cycle, after almost four years of government lasts a rather merciful six weeks. Voting is compulsory for all those 18 years and over.  Politics in the modern era is quite stage managed everywhere across the world, even in democracies. Little is left to chance. Even journalists are tightly managed and kept guessing. Questions often vetted. Campaigns are becoming vanilla.  Spontaneous speeches have largely been confined to the past, but occasionally speakers do stand on the steps or a soapbox and spruik their beliefs, whether constructive or conspiratorial,valid or venal.  The following poem tries to capture such interactions: Standing On The Soapbox Vinegar laced wisecracks fill the air Some mad with young blood Some stained with weariness and age They spill from the mouths of naysayers Poked bears and ...

  Southern Australia is now deep into autumnal days. We are experiencing what John Keats eloquently described as the 'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness.'  Our mornings are slightly cooler, the air crisp and clear. Afternoons, warm with gentle sunlight and the absence of wind. Flocks of white cockatoos have returned to feast on parkland grasses and the ever fitful twittering of rainbow lorikeets resounds from surrounding treetops, while lemons and olives ripen slowly in the garden. The ocean's surface at nearby Fisherman's Beach is smooth like freshly ironed sheets.  Over the next week, as we close in on Easter, April will deliver five consecutive days of above average temperatures. More to savour. Autumn is my favourite season as you might well notice.  So here are my autumn offerings. I'll leaf it there... Notes From Inside Autumn   We are sitting inside Autumn's edges The light,less harsh. The sun, Warm for the season, Delivers a block of mellow days. Au...

Today I'm highlighting the poetry of Peter Dixon. Peter Dixon was not just a poet. He was a performer, educationalist and artist.   He grew up in London during WW2, and as a boy his schooling was far from successful. He struggled with spelling and the understanding of word, form and grammar, so he tended to write secretly at home, drawing and writing of things largely ignored by schools.   Despite this difficult phase of his life, Peter eventually became a school teacher and then a senior lecturer in education. It often mystified him as to how all of this came to pass. As a teacher, he strived to be unbiased and did not neglect the children who experienced learning challenges.   Peter Dixon became a full time children’s writer and educational consultant. His first book was published in 1978. Whilst living in Winchester, Hampshire, with his family, he   contributed to over 100 poetry anthologies and had seven collections of his own work published including Grow Your O...

 During Covid when my home state of Victoria entered a protracted lockdown I started some personal poetry projects. One was 'Covid Chronicles,'  a collection of short poems of personal reflection which eventually were submitted to a time capsule intiated by Australia Post.  I also started posting poetry over two week intervals on a tree on the reserve behind our house. The reserve runs for approxiately 400 metres, between houses, before ending at Fisherman's Beach. People, families and dog walkers walk its length each day. I hear them from my writing cave. The poems were initially displayed under the banner- The Poet Tree . This humble project commenced in August 2020 and continued until September 2023, clearly immune to Covid. A huge storm completely blew away one of the posts and I took it as a sign to bring the project to a close. I was also looking at fresh projects to pursue, so it was timely.  Feedback indicated people missed the regular posting of poems, so in...