I grew up with adults who frequently made up names for items when they couldn't recall the official name of the said item. Colourful terms have arisen across time for naming these puzzling items. I use them myself, I must admit... Do you hear adults using such words? So, I share this poem, celebrating some of those colourful words.  Remember, sometimes poetry gets its spark from wordplay.   Dooverlackie When my Dad fixes things Around our house He sometimes asks me to help He calls me his apprentice He calls me his fetcher He calls himself Mr. Fixit He asks me to pass him the things he needs Pass me the dooverlackie Says Dad Dooverlackie? Yes, beside the whatchamacallit Watchamacallit? Yes, under the thingamajig Thingamajig? That’s right, I need to unscrew the doodad on the gizmo Oh… So I hand him what I think might be the dooverlackie And just hope I’m right No, says Dad That’s a… That’s a dohickey I only use tha...

Poetry at Brighton Primary School, Adelaide, South Australia Recently I had the special treat of working with Year 7 poets from Brighton Primary School in Adelaide. During the day we closely examined a range of poetic structures and devices and applied them to our writing of poetry. With one group I introduced Suzanna Marshak’s  powerful book ‘I Am The Ocean’ to alert these enthusiastic poets to the potential power of writing through a mask and using personification. Another group looked at personification through their connection to things in the world around them.  Pre-writing discussion followed by intensive writing. Using the poem,  ‘I Am These Things And More’  as a model.  Students were challenged to think about these important connections. A particular focus of the writing was to try to incorporate effective use of repetition, line breaks, simile and white space in their composed pieces. These young poets talked in groups and ident...

It is said writers often tell a story many times before they get around to writing them down. Well, that is certainly the case with this early childhood experience. I have told this story many times across the years and now I have finally taken the step of writing those words down in the form of this narrative poem. It is important to realize that events in our lives can spark ideas for poetry.  The events that are written about here happened quite some years ago, so they are my version of the truth as I recall it. Just like so many of life's experiences, it contains both happy and sad moments.  We must never forget writing is about both the mud and the flowers, the good and the bad, and sometimes we write about our embarrassing moments too... Enjoy! K i ss Ch a s e y   All the kids in the street Gathered in Alan Prebble’s Front Garden Bikes on the grass A gang of eight Milling around the shrubbery Talking Just talking ...

Sometimes a single word can trigger a writing idea. Well, the word Sputnik did just that for me. This poem is based on historical fact.  Searching the Sky For Sputnik Sputnik Say it quickly Sounds like a wet sneeze Dog slobber wet Sputnik- World’s first ever satellite Launched from Russia In the year 1957 Circling the earth Racing through outer space Visible in the night sky A small boy In striped flannelette pyjamas Stands in his front yard On a cool October evening Staring up into the night sky Eyes searching the far away spaces For a moving light The light of Sputnik -And suddenly he sees it The flashing light of the satellite Orbiting the earth A man made wonder Zooming across the night sky Above his front yard Sputnik Sounds like a wet sneeze If you say it quickly  Alan j Wright

The inspiration for this poem came from idioms. In this case, I used idioms involving people's names. My father's generation frequently used such idioms in everyday language. Clearly my exposure to such idiomatic language had an influence. It was fun to play around with these wonderful old terms. Hope you enjoy the word play... Name Dropper My Dad knows lots of people I reckon He often tells me Bob’s your uncle But I don’t know any Bob’s He believes Scott is great He’s always saying Great Scott! He wants to rob Peter to pay Paul and I’m not sure why He thinks Fanny Adams is sweet And someone called Nelly is nervous Last week he told me to run like Billy O How does Billy O run? That’s what I want to know Dad does a lot of things for a fellow called Pete Sake And he thinks Alec is smart because he’s always saying What a smart Alec he is He thinks Ann is raggedy And Simon is simple Freddie is blind But even he can see Which ...

Poetry of Place Think back. Think about a place you have felt really comfortable. Think about a place you may have called home. A cluster of clouds in Cancun, reminded me of when I was boy and would lie on my back in our backyard and stare up at the sky...  George Ella Lyon responded to this challenge when writing: Where I'm From I am from clothespins, from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride. I am from the dirt under the back porch. (Black, glistening, it tasted like beets.) I am from the forsythia bush the Dutch elm whose long-gone limbs I remember as if they were my own. I'm from fudge and eyeglasses, from Imogene and Alafair. I'm from the know-it-alls and the pass-it-ons, from Perk up! and Pipe down! I'm from He restoreth my soul with a cotton-ball lamb and ten verses I can say myself. I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch, fried corn and strong coffee. From the finger my grandfather lost to the auger, the eye my father shut ...