This is another example of prose poetry. The poem owes its origins to real events that occurred during an Australian summer when I was a teenager. It is strange to be recalling a summertime event in the middle of an Australian winter, but it was an unforgettable time and it often resurfaces, particularly when I revisit my old home town.  During that long ago summer, a string of hot summer days -a heat wave was ours to endure. A summer that left the landscape parched and dry and communities exposed to the potential of devastating bush fires. And so it transpired...  The poem is presented in two stanzas; blocks of texts representing the before and after aspects of the event. A Summer Blaze   During my fourteenth summer a January bushfire tried to erase our small town. It poked its flaming head above the ridge line, consumed a pine plantation then down the slope it raced, hot and voracious. Acrid smoke surrounded our homes, our streets, our every tiny space. Live e...

  Prose poetry is written as prose, without the line breaks associated with poetry. Prose poetry often makes use of devices such as fragmentation, compression, repetition, rhyme, metaphor, and figures of speech. It can express the lyricism and emotion of poetry, and lends itself to exploring a variety of themes. I noted its use in a number of anthologies in my personal library with some interesting variations in structure and presentation. I immediately felt compelled to rummage deeper. I have been experimenting with different formations and in coming weeks will share a few.   I willingly own up to enjoying the exploration of diverse poetry forms and it with this in mind I share this recently 'made' example of prose poetry. A satisfying process to polish and refine my intial raw words. Close Your Eyes And Step Into The Unknown At Essex Street subway interchange I am walking up the stairs when a small girl and her mother approach from the opposite direction. As they desc...

The Dodoitsu, is a Japanese poetic form that doesn't have meter or rhyme constraints but they do have syllable constraints (like many Japanese forms). This 4-line poem has seven syllables in the first three lines and five syllables in the fourth--and final--line.  The Dodoitsu often focuses on love or work with a comical twist. I have featured these poems previously, but I found them seeking more time in the limelight... I am standing at the corner Watching the traffic stream by Willing the red light to change -Any green will do. Alan j Wright Love is a like a red red rose Tangled like a garden hose Flowers help to smooth the rough -But diamonds sparkle.  Alan j Wright It is Poetry Friday and our host this time is Tanita S Davis at 'Fiction Instead Of Lies'  .  Tanita shares news about a July writing challenge involving 'Sedoka' a short form of poetry that follows syllabic rules. 

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...