What got me started was that I had the time to write. Writing a poem was an act of self realisation There was the excitement of writing Writing wasn’t always an easy act for me; it sometimes felt quite dangerous

What do I write about ? I have written a lot from my experience, and my memory of experience My experience of family, relationships with family members, events like moving house, watching my niece learn to read, my experience of Japan, travel. The topics of other poems have been more urgent and worldly. For example, racism and prejudice.

How did I start ? I started to write short poetry. I responded to a challenge to write poetry to fifty words. I wrote these short poems to recapture an experience. Sunnies and New Orleans

Lady Orleans A thief steered a bike at me, and seized my purse. O’ thieving city, New Orleans. She captures my youth. I seize her jazz, her neons, her lovers, her food. The Mississippi sails sly. Her abundant berth beckons, Adventuress. A Southern plantation Courts magnificence. Stands for the lady, New Orleans.

Sunnies Sunnies glitter and sparkle, Accessorise thirteen sweet years. Fair hair and eyes of green blue. Sit in the passenger seat, Flirting with summer destination. Mesmerised by chance of you. Vagaries cajole our silence, Anticipation hugs bends of road, Sun and hills chart our journey. The bliss of me and you.

Writing A Short Poem If you were writing a short poem, what would you write about ? can you think of a particular experience you might like to rewrite in a short poem ? How would you start this short poem ? What is an image that you would capture ? What is a figure of speech you might include ?

Writing a Longer Poem Hallo Good – bye Grounds for Friendship Alterations Birds of Paradise It’s All in the Edit Pirate Girl Walking Molly

Writing A Longer Poem One of these poems I have left to run wild on the page. For example, It’s All in the Edit. Others I have accepted for their honesty of tone youthful exuberance in Alterations, whimsy in Alex and Me hope in Meeting Massi Others I have tussled with for perfection of shape and form Birds of Paradise

Alex writes a story ‘about us’ in her book, She fetches her book and her feathered pen. Feathers cascade from a fairy pen. They tickle her chin, and two little girls conspire in a giggle. She lies upside down. Her toes dance across the ceiling, her head plush in its cushion of daring. Changeling letters work their impish charm A ‘b’, an inside out ‘d’, an ‘h’ cut down to ‘n’ AUNTY sits in emphasis on the page. I dream her future as I read my magazine, Alex in fashion spectacles and pinstripes, Enthroned behind a glass table. This higgledy piggledy story of Alex and me As chewed and loved as Mollie’s ear is finished. I cannot help but wonder at this fairyland penned to life by a five year old in a living room. Alex and Me

Walking Molly Run Mollie run, Gorgeous abundance of black, curly fur. Scatterbrain Mollie who runs like a hound Her lean body intent on pursuit of a stick. Boy hurls the stick high into the air, Mollie lunges for the stick. A gigantic leap of panting and running and care. Running in circles, her nose in the air. Boy pretends to throw stick. Mollie hunts the stick that is not far thrown, Her joy in her sport not easily confused, “Tell her, tell her where it is”, said from the stands. Boy throws stick and boy and dog chase stick, Dog runs fast, man pursues fast running dog. Retrievers stop to pick up a stick at the river edge. A gathering watches from the path, gaiety in the air. Jellie Bean joins the fray with her owners in tow, She is a brown velvet dachshund who wants to play. She chases Mollie, smells Mollie, lays beside Mollie who has the stick. Doggone Jellie Bean is here to stay. Mollie lies down tired and admired by all kindred. We laugh in each other’s arms, worn Macintoshes and hats. This drizzling Christmas Day on a Waikato riverbank.

Pirate Girl My one earring dangles when I leave the café, And, this lopsided look makes me feel adventurous and eccentric like a pirate girl who skips treacherous wooden planks all day long. I remember the trays I load full to the ceiling, The ice creams I serve in orange, red, and lime, The lady with the calliper I escort to the table, The children counting out grimy monies in tens and fives. I think my earring might be under the freezer, washed down a plug hole with sauce and spaghetti. When my boss says goodnight, a right molar glints. I celebrate a birthday on top of chocolate cake. My one earring dangles when I leave the classroom, And, this lopsided look makes me feel, Adventurous and eccentric like a pirate girl, Who skips treacherous wooden planks all day long. I remember the aye aye captains I share in the staff room, The students I cage when they mimic like parrots, The treasure we ransack with metallic swords, And, the wisdom I hurl into the depths of the ocean. A damsel finds my errant earring in the staff room and return it to my ear like Cinderella’s shoe. She works a small miracle and seals my fate for a series of tomorrows to walk a thousand planks, a pirate girl.

Things I have tried with my Writing Writing from a secondary source, such as my experience of a book or film Finding Henry Pre- writing, writing from journal entries Writing in the style of a poet I have read Anna Jackson, James K. Baxter * Writing from a sense of rythmn

Finding Henry Henry, the golden retriever bounds from my book. A gentle and companionable dog, friend and saviour to Dale. A boy with autism. His Mum is a shrewd and unrelenting teacher to her son. I remember Cara at school, Cara who carries a large, brown soft toy dog. A German Shepherd, she says. I wonder if I too can be compassionate, wise, and strong. A teacher to the children. As my parents were to me.

Help that I have enjoyed along the way Poets I have read Song lyrics Poetry readings Teachers who have let me write Poetry tutors Friends People who have asked about my writing Publishers, Kevin McIvor and Alistair Paterson

Working With Feedback Feedback from publishers very much raised issues around: Who am I writing for ? How should my poetry read ? Ways that I can improve my writing Poetry techniques that I observe in my writing Editing processes

Selecting Haiku In a pond Cragged rocks Bearded with moss Sparrow song Dancing on stones A summer’s day A tall stem Bares its glory A crown blooms purple Green shoots below Whakapapa

working with haiku Frog sunning on lily pad as dragonfly darts by. Thrapp! questions What is a word with a long, slow sound in this poem ? Find me an example of alliteration from the haiku. Find me an example of onomatopoeia from the poem. What experience do you think the poet is writing about ?

Haiku Copy down the following short poem into your books. At the back Of grandma’s wardrobe A fur coat …. Metal buttons Clouded with mould Andre Surridge Poetry from Kokako 10, Edited by Patricia Prime and Joanna Preston, April, questions Count the syllables What is at the back of Grandma’s closet ? Why do you think it is at the back of her closet ? What do you wonder about this fur coat ? What happens to metal buttons when they cloud with mould ? What is at the back of your closet ?

Haiku Copy down the following poem A pukeko Flashing scarlet legs Checks out the swamp I was once that bird – midnight Blue mini ….. red stockings Margaret L. Grace (Aus) Questions Count the syllables in each line What are the two things being compared in this poem ? What do they have in common ? Is it an effective metaphor ? What is an example of language that you like in this poem ? Why ?

Writing From Pictures

Student Haiku * Rippled through the red clouds Colours of the coming night Moon and sun share the sky

Haiku Formula line 1 - five syllables, 5 line 2 - seven syllables, 7 line 3 - five syllables, 5 IN TOTAL seventeen syllables, 17