It is said to be out there as a poet, you need to be out there. So I took this literally and earlier in the week ventured out for a coffee. As I at my outdoor table attentively observing the passing parade, a poem gently formed around me. I made a few notes rehearsed some words and sipped my cappuccino. The poem landed as an everyday observational narrative, consciously devoid of any profound turn of deeper significance... Tuesday's Coffee Guests  I choose to sit at the tightly arranged round tables outside the cafe I prefer my coffee with a side of life. A woman passed by walking a small dog adorned in booties. He's got sensitive feet she informs a man who stares intently at the booted pup. At the next table two frosty matrons complain bitterly about the fashion choices of young people, Just as people have done since Plato famously launched a tirade about the lack of respect shown by young Romans. I chose to look skyward and sight a pod of pelicans wide winging across a naked ...

 I am sharing another piece of verse emerging from my recent travel adventure in Vietnam. We were fortunate enough to spend a week in Hoi An, a UNESCO heritage city. It was our third visit to Hoi An. It is a city with an intoxicating charm.  This special place also has much to motivate the writer within me. The daily produce market adjacent to the historic quarter of the city is a bustling space, rich with poetic potential. The market visitor needs to perfect the essential art of looking without betraying their potential retail intentions. Not an easy thing to do among such practiced observers. On several mornings, I strolled through the market, prior to breakfast. My early morning walks provided valuable research for the words that emerged... Hoi An Market 7.00 AM In the steaminess Surrounding Hoi An’s market The palpable energy of local traders Competing for buyers attention Courses daily through this busy corner Of the ancient city Pungent aromas swirl about Amid a ram...

As poets, we take pride in our capacity for close and considered observation. It is a skill we must consciously practice and hone. The senses must also be alert and alive when we venture into our worlds. We do get better with regular practice. All this is tied up in the idea of living life twice, where one experiences a moment, an experience, or an event, and then relives it through writing. The following poem owes its origins to my regular practice of morning walks. An everyday experience that delivered me words I could not deny... Reflections On A Brisk Morning Walk My brisk morning walk Came with some minor revelations Not life changing, Nor, earth-shattering, Merely noteworthy. 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 jauntily Resplendent in active wear And incongruously vaping smoke signals -to track their location,...

It is often said -ideas exist in things, and so we have around us an almost infinite range of possibilities for writing. Emily Dickinson wrote of possibility when she stated, -'I dwell in possibility- a fairer house than prose.' For a poet, anything and everything is potentially treasure. Something that might seem unworthy of attention can be re-imagined by a poet's careful use of words. Chilean poet,  Pablo Neruda, urged us to notice the small, the inconsequential things in our world. He demonstrated his awareness of such things in his anthology,  'Odes to Common Things.' When we begin to pay attention to the small and inconsequential, we unleash the potential for creating something that might be seen as quite grand. Noticing things in our everyday world, improves with practice and close observation. This action, coupled with careful word choice, raises something  initially thought of as ordinary, to a position of reconsidered value. With all these thoughts swirlin...

  As poets we must endeavour to practice being keen observers of our world as well as our personal relationship with things within that world.  We learn much from reading the words of fellow poets and the way they rise to meet these expectations. This poem is for Billy Collins who possesses a masterful ability for keen observation of these critical considerations and has taught me much.  'Good poetry can penetrate your writing like smoke gets into your clothes.' John Poch Adoration of Things In My World - For Billy Collins   Late in the afternoon As I strolled along the beach I found myself infatuated With piece of sun-bleached driftwood. Later on While walking home along the reserve I fell in love with a butterfly Resting on a bougainvillea And the frenzied flight of rainbow lorikeets.   Back home in the kitchen I felt a yearning for a cup of Earl Grey tea And a growing passion for the last Tim-Tam In the pack. I have previousl...