The recent snow storms in New York evoked memories of my six years living and working out of the city that nevers sleeps. Until moving to New York snow had been something of a rarity. The nearest snow fields being a three hour drive from my coastal home near Melbourne. To experience snowfall measured in feet was beyond my experience.  The blizzard of 2006 delivered in excess of two feet of snow and my wonder and awe was off the scale. I felt compelled to write about the experience at that time and also took multiple photographs. Poets respond to the world around them. This incredible natural event was not to be denied. My response at that time employed a classic rhyming structure (AABB) with four line stanzas. I only occasionally write in that style these days. I feel compelled to recover the poem and share it before it melts... Snowstorm Scenes in New York The city, wrapped in twilight's quiet glow, Became a blur beneath the falling snow. New York, so loud and restless just ...

  This poetry presentation is all about keeping secrets with siblings, or  rather the inherent folly of such agreements.  My poem is loosely based on childhood experiences.  It is also about form and structure.   I have consciously off set the couplets to symbolize the unsettling sleep experiences that frequently arise around such matters.   Unsettled Sleep As I stumbled through the forest dark A green witch grabbed my hand   I raced upon an open plain Through soft and shifting sand   I stood upon a craggy bluff While the wind began to scream   Then I awoke in tangled sheets From this disturbing dream   I think I know the reason I got wrapped up in this twister   I’m concerned about a secret shared With my loose-lipped little sister. Alan j Wright. Poetry Friday has rolled around again and our host this time is Jane Whittingham . Jane delivers an ode to the chaos that frequently surround...

I have been exploring the theme of small, tiny things. Things microscopic and seemingly insignificant. It turns out to be a HUGE matter to ponder. Living close to the beach, I quickly realized I had an abundant source of tiny material to inform my writing. The Travel Adventures of Sandy Grains   Within the whispers of the shore Where waves unload at beach’s door Lies a tale of grains of sand Gifted by the oceans grand.   In pockets, cracks and corners deep Grains finds a home, a place to sleep A tiny stash of sandy gold A story waiting to be told.   From every shore, sand is shifted To parts unknown, grains are lifted On gusts of wind, they hitch a ride Dispersing beach-sand far and wide.   A reminder of the changing sea Grains of sand spread randomly In nooks and crannies they now sit These tiny specks of ocean grit.   So let us treasure grains of sand In pockets, towels, across the land For in their journey, we m...

This week, I am hungry for poems about food.  Food is such a universal topic to explore.    I have chosen a couple of poems from an unpublished anthology.  These poems take a deliberatly irreverant look at the menu. We all have food experiences -some wierd, some wonderful. Here are  two poems to nibble on as an entree.  Bon Appetit!  ALL YOU CAN EAT There’s a sign above the door At the Maggoty Cat Café Stating, if you can eat the menu -Then you don’t have to pay. The servings are substantial They make that very clear The waiters guide you to your seat As they grin from ear to ear. They start with tuna eye balls Then bring you chicken feet Bird’s nest soup and frog’s legs A gourmandiser’s treat. Next up, they serve wasp crackers And rattlesnake they’ve fried They finish up with jellied eels With a large serve of Spam on the side. Alan j Wright MAVIS DINES OUT Mavis had a little lamb Then,she ate some cakes Some Shepherd’s Pie, A jug of milk, And a bag o...

We write with our ears said, Ralph Fletcher -and Ralph is right. Last week, I overheard a cafe conversation- I do this a lot. They provide classic collectables, constantly stimulating and sparking writing ideas. It  went like this... A woman walks into the cafe where her friend is waiting. The friend inquires- 'Where's Keith?' 'Oh, he's at home. I left him to his own devices....' That was all I needed to hear. My mind came alive with possibilities. I rehearsed words and then I opened my notebook and began to trap some words. Keith morphed into Gordon and everything followed on from that point.  Gordon's Love Of Gadgets Gordon loved his telescope His microscope His gyroscope   Gordon loved his electric mower His leaf   blower His seed sower   Gordon loved his Android phone His trombone His grindstone   Madeline, his long suffering spouse of thirty years Eventually ran out of tears So neglected, so alone Flew the coop, departed h...

 I take much of my inspiration for writing poetry from what is around me. I frequently write about that. When we are on the lookout for material needed for writing poetry, it is in fact, all around us. It seems to be hiding in plain sight... I live approximately 300 metres from the sea. It's a pleasant walk out my back gate, along the reserve that runs between the houses in my immediate neighbourhood. The bay and its environs have provided a rich seam of writing ideas across the years. What is calling out to you? What is begging for a little of your poetic attention? Grab a pen and go for it! Here is the latest poem inspired by the things around me. Upon Fisherman’s Beach -For Robert Louis Stevenson   Soft blue is the ocean Sun kissed wheat, the sand The tide is low at morning Waves ripple, gently fanned   Seaweed strands are drifting The shoreline dressed in foam Boats at the anchor bobbing Fish in the shallows roam   Onward flows the ocean Its waters dark and stil...

I am grateful to fellow poet,  Laura Purdie Salas for alerting me to the work of J Patrick Lewis last week.  In my quest to discover more, I uncovered the fact that as a poet, J Patrick Lewis invented a light verse form he called, 'Careerhymes.'  When writing this form, you need to be aware that the occupation must appear in the first line. It is, as the name implies, a rhyming form. Here is an example of Careerhyme Computer Geek: A square, a nerd A rather anti-social bird Who keeps a mouse; a devotee Of virtual reality. J Patrick Lewis I found myself rising to the challenge. I love new forms of poetry and the chance to explore new possibilities, so I went for it. I urge you to focus on a new career... Grave Digger: Earth mover for a burial plot Who digs the final resting spot Six feet down they dig that shaft Practicing an ancient craft. Alan j Wright Painter: Surface performer, colours galore Inside, outside, ceiling, walls and floor Coats of paint, freshly applied Brus...

It was BOOK Week in Australia last week and while Covid tried its hardest, it couldn't dampen our collective spirits for books and all things literate.  So, while I couldn't visit schools in person,  I was able to contribute and be part of the celebrations with on line sessions reading poetry and presenting a range of poetry forms for young poets to try for themselves. I read some poems from my books and also presented some more recent poems- freshly made, still warm!  The idea was to share the good news that ideas for poetry are all around us. Anything can become the focus of our poetic attention. We must try to become observers and curious explorers! Here are three of my latest poems about a range of matters.  Poems that have bubbled up while trying to remain creative in these Covid times.  Hope you enjoy them... It is once again Poetry Friday and our host this week is Heidi Mordhorst   at ' My Juicy Little Universe .' Heidi's post focuses on a number of ...

Poetry has always provided a way for me to more fully participate in life. It is a siren song. I respond to it with a barely concealed passion. I listen to my world and share what I have discovered. Poetry floats in the air surrounding me- or so it feels. It is an impulse I respond to willingly. This intangible urge to connect brings forth the words. Words have always gained my attention quite effortlessly. To take possession of them and apply them with deliberate and considered purpose has filled me with excitement all my life. All The Worlds I Live In All the worlds I live in All the worlds I see Won’t fit into one mouthful When words spill out of me Sometimes they’re words of fire That emerge with spark and flame Sometimes they’re gentle whispers My worlds are not the same. © Alan j Wright It's Poetry Friday! This week our host is Michelle Kogan . Michelle's post focuses on 'birthdays' and she presents a number of poems and artistic works to highlight this special, o...

Skeltonic Verse is named after its creator, English poet John Skelton (1460-1529), who tutored King Henry VIII when he was just a prince, spent time in prison, was censured by the Church and in general, seemed to have a great amount of fun. If you feel a strong urge to rhyme, this poetry form may be the way to go. Skeltonic verse should not be confused with the Blitz poem format I have shared previously, which uses a series of short lines to work down the page.   Skeltonic verse has a few simple rules: Lines are short with two or three stresses they have irregular rhymes they have irregular rhythms they have no stanza breaks and occasionally include some alliteration.                                                                                          ...

Contemplating actual travel remains a distant consideration at present, so virtual travel, it is for me... I started browsing some old travel photographs -and my mind went racing-back! And because time is not of the essence right now, I rummaged with much delight, reliving those far off realms of my travel experiences. So, this poem owes it origins to travel memories and is loosely an ekphrastic poem, because it is a conglomeration of various seaside related images, not a single image.  I do love to wander through new and exotic locales. Armed with my camera, my writer's notebook and a keen eye, it is easy to spend a few hours exploring. It is good to wander at different times across the day too. I t broadens the view, the perspective. I invite you to wander through your personal catalogue of travel snaps and mine for treasure... Where have you wandered? What do you recall? A Walk through A Seaside Village Breakfast failed to fire ...