I am very pleased to announce the release of my third poetry anthology- What The Poemster Found -poems from places poets roam' The poems in this new collection capture real-life experiences while exploring past events and numerous small moments. Among the poems gathered inside the pages of this anthology, I light heartedly reflect upon the untimely death of Brutus the Budgerigar. I also share some  wheel  bad news, the ride of the sky witch, the sad tale of Norman Neets, some secret conversations around a kitchen table, and all the reasons why science rocks. This is just the start of a joyful jaunt through the places poets roam. What The Poemster Found does deliver some fun verse hopefully providing  a rollicking journey through the far reaches of this poet’s inspiration. However, I have also tried to balance the humour with some quite deliberate attempts to provoke thought about issues, for as Nikki Grimes, American poet said so importantly: 'Children are emotionall

Have you ever heard of Nonet poems? No problem at all, because neither had I until I went exploring for a new poetic form to try out.  I have always enjoyed discovering new ways to present my words. Nonent poems are sometimes known as countdown poems. Nonet Poems:  Here are the Rules The nonent is a simple a 9-line poem that has 9 syllables in the first line, 8 syllables in the second line, 7 syllables in the third line, and continues to count down to one syllable in the final (ninth) line. Easy! The poem can be on any subject and rhyming is optional. line 1 - 9 syllables line 2 - 8 syllables line 3 - 7 syllables line 4 - 6 syllables line 5 - 5 syllables line 6 - 4 syllables line 7 - 3 syllables line 8 - 2 syllables line 9 - 1 syllables A Nonet refers to a group of nine. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Yes it is. But what tests your poetic calibre yet again is the ‘syllable count’. I am unaware of the origin of these particular poems, but the word nonet is used f

Oodgeroo Noonuccal was born Kathleen Jean Mary Ruska, formerly Kath Walker) (3 November 1920 – 16 September 1993). She was an Australian Aboriginal political activist, artist and educator. She was also a campaigner for Aboriginal rights.  In 1988 she adopted a traditional name: Oodgeroo (meaning "paperbark tree") Noonuccal (her tribe's name). Oodgeroo was best known for her poetry, and was the first Aboriginal Australian to publish a book of verse. Her first book of poetry was extraordinarily successful, selling out in several editions, and setting Oodgeroo well on the way to be Australia's highest-selling poet. Oodgeroo embraced the idea of her poetry as propaganda, and described her own style as "sloganistic, civil-writerish, plain and simple.' She wanted to convey pride in her Aboriginality to the broadest possible audience, and to popularise equality and Aboriginal rights through her writing. She published two children’s books, Strad

Recipes are written with a precise use of language. The application of action words in the form of vivid verbs is a feature of this form of writing. I love the clear intent of words such as: sift, dice, boil, sprinkle, sauté, blanche, pinch, muddle, chop, whip, slice, bake, season, salt, soak, plunge, dissolve, melt, boil. What if these verbs were applied to a non-cooking topic? Could we create recipes for animals, traveling, feelings and emotions, seasons, learning or many other topics? I recall a wonderful activity Natalie Goldberg presented in her book, 'Writing Down The Bones' (page 87, The Action of A Sentence) that coupled verbs one generally associates with kitchen actions with common nouns in order to create fresh new sentences and to increase writers awareness of the power verbs possess. A further possibility is creating a recipe for some wondrous, new, edible delight… Elaine Magliaro’s poem is a wonderful example of this approach. Elaine skilful

U PCOMING B OOK L AUNCH I am pleased to announce the imminent release of my third poetry anthology- What The Poemster Found. Coming soon... The poems in this new collection capture real-life experiences while exploring past events and numerous small moments. Among the poems gathered inside the pages of this anthology, I  light heartedly reflect upon the untimely death of Brutus the Budgerigar. I also share some wheel bad news, the ride of the sky witch, the sad tale of Norman Neets, some secret conversations around a kitchen table, and all the reasons why science rocks. This is just the start of a joyful jaunt through the places poets roam. What The Poemster Found is a compilation of fun verse that provides  a rollicking journey through the far reaches of a poet’s inspiration. The word 'Poemster' was gifted to me by a small boy in a school near the city of Adelaide. I was sitting outside the main office waiting to be taken to meet a group of young poets, when a boy

This week I had the privilege of talking to various groups of young writers as part of the Knox Network Literacy Festival. Their questions were thought provoking and most pertinent.  As we have come to appreciate, each writer’s process is unique. Revealing that process enables the writer sharing aspects of their process (as well as other writers) to better understand the influences on their writing. A young writer asked me, ‘When did you begin to be a poet?’ and while I talked about how the process of becoming a poet was something that grew across many years and a host of experiences and influences, there was perhaps one particular experience way back in my Grade 3 year that may well have been a catalyst for what has become a life source for my writing. I recall clearly how my teacher Mr Manzie, asked the members of our class to each write a poem about Spring-time .  My words that day caught the attention of some of my classmates, who liked the

Sometimes poets like to compare things. Often they write about the simple and familiar things of this world in order to alert the reader to new perspectives and possibilities. A thing that is familiar might be used to highlight a connection to something else... And so, as I sat in my favourite Italian cafe, 'Il Piccolo,' writing in my notebook while sipping on a morning coffee, I began to ponder on the connection between the work of my friend, Joshua,  the chef and me, the poet. This is what emerged... A TASTE FOR POETRY A poem for Joshua Noonan The chef and the poet are makers The knife and the pen The tools of their creation Each held deftly in the hand The chef adds a pinch of pepper to season the soup The poet adds a dash of word lightning to end the line Each in their own way, Make splendid use of ingredients -herbs and spices -rhythm and rhyme Metaphor, simile Sage and thyme Flavour and tang Infuse the mix

I have been a traveling poet of late. Exploring three islands in the Mediterranean region. Almost six weeks devoted to discovering and gathering on the islands of Capri, Sicily and Salina (part of the Aeolian island group).  With my trusty writer's notebook and camera, I made sure I soaked up as much detail as I could during my time in these special places. Snippets and snapshots were eagerly collected and raw words captured for later polishing... Swimmers on the Malfa Beach, Salina Valley of the Temples, Agrigento,Sicily. Exploring Anacapri, Capri Scala dei Turchi, Realmonte, Sicily Cat in the Piazza, Erice, Sicily The mist covered streets of Erice Here are a few of  the many poems inspired by my time in these beautiful island settings. A Night For Numbers There were ten cats  purring in the piazza this evening Curled up  Small, furry clumps shielded by the shadows of the oleander trees Five Russian sailors sat in the ristorante

It has been exceedingly windy in my neck of the woods the last few days. Cold, icy blasts of wind have blown across the bay and bullied those of us dwelling on the shore. The leaves of autumn have been dancing in my garden.The trees bend and cower. So, batten down the hatches and hang onto your hat, because all this windy weather prompts me to share a couple of wind driven poems.  It also provides an opportunity to reintroduce a couple of poets, previously celebrated here- the wonderful of Spike Milligan and the equally amazing Max Fatchen return to blow you away with their words.   WINDS LIGHT TO DISASTROUS As I sipped morning tea A gale (force three) Blew away a slice of toast Then a gale (force four) Blew my wife out the door I wonder which I'll miss the most She was still alive When a gale (force five) Blew her screaming o'er Golders Green When a gale six blew And it took her to A mosque in the Medanine Now I pray to heaven That a gale (force seven)

Young poets are always asking, 'Of all the poems you have written, what is your favourite poem?' I have trouble designating a particular poem. For me, it's a bit like being asked, 'Of all your children, who is your favourite?  Among a poet's collection there are poems that receive a good reaction, and poems that receive regular requests. There are also poems that have quite special memories attached to them. This makes them particularly special for me as the writer. Then there are those freshly made poems that as a poet I am keen to share. Those poems bring a new energy. Nestled among my favourite poems are some that are more intentionally thoughtful, because poetry is capable of appealing to every emotion. I like it when my poems make a reader, laugh and smile, giggle and guffaw, but I am equally pleased when my poems make the reader pause to think. I am happy to declare quite openly though, the following poem, written by Brian Moses remains a personal favou