In my most recent rummaging through family history documents I came across a collection of letters my mother  exchanged with family and friends in the 1960's and 70's.  Lifting them out and into the light of day, I found myself fascinated by the language of the letters. Snippets of detail and flourishing turns of phrase were lighting up my reading. I was intriguied by the content of these letters. I began jotting down lines I loved and began to weave them into an arrangement that sounded like it had some flow, some connection.  This is Cento poetry, a derivative of found poetry. These old hand written letters have alerted me to an even broader range of possibility when it comes to the search for inspiration...   Jottings -a clutch of old letters At last I am writing a few lines Having taken up the pen -I have done it mentally many times…   Just to let you know we now have a Chihuahua puppy We feed with an eye dropper She’s a real imp of mischief.   Your mos

Pleased to announce two of my poems will be appearing in the upcoming edition of 'Spelt.' Spelt is a UK magazine celebrating poetry and the rural experience.  The magazine celebrates experiences in the natural world and aims to encourage children's participation in wild, slightly untamed places. I'm all for that.  Today, I am sharing a couple of other poems with connections to the environments in which we wander and explore. Night Sky On The Gibber Plain Standing next to an artesian bore In the Simpson desert Looking across the gibber plain at night A carpet of small stones Reminiscent of snow under the moon's generous spell Stretches into the endless heartland  beneath intense reflected light The only sound that registers Is my own soft, breathing. Far removed from the city lights The neon flashes, -the constant noise, And gritty air, The stars of the night sky Shone with unrestricted intensity A sparkling star garden of luminous light Mesmerising beauty in a remot

The notion of what sparks an idea for activating the writing of a poem are many and varied. Mercurial in fact. The poet must always remain alert to possibility. Quite often the essential spark ignites when you are engaged in an activity that has no immediate conection to the act of writing. You must remain an active receiver! I recently had cause to check an instruction manual to solve a small, yet irritating issue with a new electric oven. I quickly resolved the issue, but I also found myself pondering the unique language of the document I was reading. Instruction manuals are rather pedantic in style. There is no room for light and shade in their presentation. The reader is expected to faithfully follow the outlined instructions.  I then delved further into the sextensive library of operating manuals we have assembled across the years. Manuals related to household appliances, computer and technical gadgetry, cars, furniture, garden equipment, and the like. I'm sure everyone has a