A seasonally adjusted poem is my offering this week. I found a poem I had written during my time living and working in New York called Raw Beauty. It encapsulates a stranger's Christmas gift in the depths of a miserably cold day, in a rather dreary location.  Inspired by Linda Mitchell's mash up poem last week, I decided to mash my poem with a short, evocative Christmas poem by UK poet, Wendy Cope. I enjoyed the weaving process. Season's greetings all. Vanderbilt Avenue bus shelter Raw Beauty - A Christmas Poem After Wendy Cope At Christmas little children sing and merry bells jingle I'm standing at the bus stop On Vanderbilt Avenue Stick trees line the street Silent soldiers on a bleak avenue   In a feeble shelter Three women stand I huddle in my flimsy coat Nearby An icy wind Rampant, raw Slaps my face With a bully’s rage The cold winter air makes our hands and faces tingle Above the wind And the ugly song of the traffic I hear whistl...

  Hi, Alan here to alert you to more support and ideas for the teaching of poetry are available on my web page:   https://www.alanjwrightauthorpoet.com/ A quick click and you can access even more information to make your teaching of writing and in particular, the teaching of poetry more expansive and rewarding. A visit will provide you with information regarding poetry resources and the latest news on all manner of literary related matters. Matters like  my new anthology of short verse, available in January 2026. Here's a glimpse...

I was gifted a small, leather bound notebook and it felt right to designate it as a place to gather short form poetry. I have commenced with haiku. I write in this notebook irregularly. I usually find myself compelled by natural phenomena like weather events, seasonal changes and related observations of the natural world.  I am finding this haiku harvesting contemplative, calming and reflective. It represents a form of limbering up for further writing across my day.  I am in no rush with the addition of entries. They arise when the mood strikes - singularly, or in numbers. My collection stands at 42 and rising.  So, here is a glimpse of my gathered harvest of haikus. I In other news... It is Poetry Friday and our host this week is Linda Mitchell from A Word Edgewise.   Linda offers readers a Christmas Mash Up Poem combining song lyrics and a poem. 

  I share the food shopping rituals with my wife. I take the opportunity to gather and hunt for our needs and because I enjoy cooking. I get the opportuntiy to purchase fresh produce from markets, supermarkets and greengrocers. Greengrocers are a diminishing commodity these days given the stranglehold of the giant supermarket corporations. I support them when I can. Every Wednesday, there is a produce market in the main street of my town. It attracts huge crowds, so the desire for fresh fruit and vegetables has not waned. I consciously avoid processed food items and their questionable additives. The opportunity to create a meal with fresh ingredients is a strong motivating factor. It emanates from my father's passion for maintaining an extensive fruit and vegetable garden when I was growing up. Money was scarce, but we always ate healthy meals.  I adopted the mantra is 'Don't buy something your grandmother wouldn't recognize.' This poem jumped into my trolley as I w...

Solvitur ambulando is a Latin phrase that means 'it is solved by walking.'  The phrase is used to describe how a complex issue can often be resolved through practical action and experience. The term is often attributed to the philosopher Diogenes.  More generally, it means that a problem can be solved by taking action, getting a new perspective, or simply clearing your mind through physical activity like walking.  So, I find walking is perfect for resolving outstanding matters and determining future action, as well as its health benefits. This was the harvest of my poet's walk... Solvitur Ambulando My brisk morning walk Came with some minor revelations Not life changing, Nor, earth-shattering, Merely noteworthy.   While spangin There was a singular encounter with a lone jogger A woman, small in stature Who passed with a laboured gait And a strained face Reminiscent of a failed bowel movement.   Two young women  Passed by jauntil...

 I recall an advertising jingle for toothpaste that was frequently broadcast during my childhood. It went- 'You'll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent.'   Naturally, as kids do, we amended the wording to, 'You'll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with wet cement.' I am sharing this little memory because one day last week my wife Vicki remarked on the spring weather and mentioned its frustrating variability. The day before had delivered welcoming sunshine and a bright blue sky. This new day  had quickly morphed into a drab grey sky with clouds packing the promise of rain. The wind was slicing through the garden.  Sun lover Vicki, remarked, 'I wonder where the sun went.' It was at this point that old jingle sparked to life in my mind. It was an ideal poetic provocation. So I scooped it up and words began romping around in my head. A little while later, a poem began to reveal itself in my notebook. I fu...

 I have had a most productive week of writing. -Some great publishing news on two projects and a couple of school visits where I got to work with several classes of early years writers who blew me away with their brave writing efforts. I also launched a brand  new website  . These events put me in a bouyant mood, so I decided to have a little fun with words and today I am sharing this cheeky, playful poem... Poets need to indulge in wordplay and this poem  goes to that place.  Hideaway Poem I had intended sharing A poem with you But it lost its nerve And has shut itself away Inside a book of poems Refusing to come out. Maybe it’s hoping William Wordsworth Will offer it some daffodils Maybe it secretly longed to be a sonnet Or part of Tennyson's Light brigade.   There’s no rhyme or reason For this… The stanzas stand up The imagery is intact The alliteration aligned   In the meantime Here’s some white space To cast your ...

Today I'm going wild. Wild animal that is...  T he crocodile and the warthog might not rate highly on a most popular animal list, but they do possess some fascinating traits, and so I am sharing poems about these wild things, these far from mild things.  Crocodiles are large semiaquatic reptiles that live throughout the tropics in Africa, Asia, the Americas and Australia. I have made a point of visiting them in Kakadu National Park, from a safe viewing distance. I wanted to obtain some snaps without getting snapped myself.  The Warthog is  a wild, somewhat unsociable member of the pig family found in grassland, savanna, and woodland in sub-Saharan Africa. The world of poetry is no stranger to poems about animals, but I doubt these two are overly represented. ..    Warthogs Warthog, wide jawboned face With dangerous tusks Struts across the open plain All warty and snorty Its tail pointing up Like an aerial.   Warthog, too lazy to hunt munches on the ...

 Often we celebrate the shape of a poem or the patterns it presents. This poem is all about the sounds of the words, in particular the sounds of a host of towns and suburbs in Australia. These rich and varied places owe their names to our first peoples, our indigenous Australians. The names have meaning attached.  Yackandandah for example, means, ' one boulder on top of another at the junction of two creeks.'  The town I grew up in, Monbulk, means  'hiding place in the hills.' The names of these places possess a musicality  unique to Australia. Proud to say I've visited many of them. Come with me now and get your mouth ready to dance with delight. I’ve Never Been to Tumbarumba Australian towns Have memorable names Some of them astounding They dance upon my tongue Delightful in their sounding I’ve always known in Yarrawonga That I should try to linger longer But should I try to chitter-chatter If I find myself in Cabramatta? All the kind folk ...