Storytime

To start the year with a bang, albeit a small bang, I signed up for the Month of Poetry.   My idea is that it will make me write some of those poems that I want to ---that by the end of the month I will have 31 poems to work on. So far, on day 30 I have 29 poems (one to write this afternoon) and I have written nothing that I thought I would write. I had a list of ideas- niggly notions that I want to capture- and thought this would be the ideal time to cement them down. Instead I seem to have spent a month freewheeling and writing about life in general. After my NewYear's Day Odd Sock Throw Out- (and strange conversation with my Uncle) I wrote a poem about a sock orphanage. I wrote a poem about the trouble with being on the end of a camera...and missing what really is happening.  I wrote a poem about the attempts to declutter. The heat found it's way into a few poems (cliche I know but it has had a starring role down here- heat plus bush fires makes for writin...

Hands up, I can't juggle. I even have difficulty throwing one ball up to catch on it's downward spiral. I'm just not co-ordinated or flexible enough. So imagine the trouble I have trying to do everything I want, or think I should do (and of course avoiding the guilt). Working part time means I have two days off a week - unless I'm called in - which happens more times than I care to think about. When someone in the youth area goes on holidays for a few weeks, I know I will be asked to work most of her days (because I can jump in and do her Storytime etc)....so a few weeks ago when someone went on holidays I forgot the art of balance. There was a writing workshop I was interested in...but it was to be held on one of those days....I ummed and ahhed. Work, as yet, had not asked me to come in, should I book, should I wait a few more days? Well I waited a few more days  then decided 'no, my writing is important to me and I do get a lot out of workshops,' so I ...

Last year, while reading various poetry collections, I was inspired by the poet's ability to capture their landscape. The majority lived in cities, so their scape was urban and rigid, full of noise and movement. It inspired me to try and capture, not the area I live in, but the road I live in and walk. I wanted to try and put down what I felt, heard, smelt, what was 'different' about this place. And I then gave myself the challenge of writing a 'walking' poem about my road in the four seasons.  I began in the autumn- a night walk. As you can see my road is not a paved main arterial road, it is an unmade road (although recently was graded and has that oil screen on top to try and suppress dust). Our house is at the bottom and as you walk along the road becomes narrower and steeper. The 'regimented' gardens of exotics such as masses of agapanthus and laurel hedges give way to native forest.  It is a good walk, an invigorating walk. ...

Last night I went for a picnic in the park with some writers. It was the end of a hot day....trees gave welcome shade...birds flitted and twittered... and then the cool change hit. Bark and leaves fell like hail, wind whipped tableclothes, and the sudden cold made people grab for jackets and blankets (anyone's jackets and blankets) for warmth. Like most picnics there was food and talk, laughter and 'so what's been happening?' We talked of writing, a few read their work out, and as we packed up I realised in those few hours how much inspiration was all around us. I must admit to not using my picnic basket a lot these days- but as I packed it I remembered all those Boxing Days when we would pack up the kids, their few favourite 'new' toys from Santa, a picnic lunch made from all those 'leftovers' and head out for the day. Someplace where they could play and run, where we could recharge after the hectic days of Christmas. Remembered my own chi...

DECLUTTER! And yes it deserves capitals...in fact I'd write it on the sky via jet plane if I could. Not that I'm one of those secret hoarders that you hear about on the news once they are dead because  no one can walk into their house because of all the crap. I'm not that bad...it just feels that it's time. I will state I'm not a born neat freak, cleanaholic or even tidy person. I like clutter. Like bits and pieces around me...they inspire, they motivate, they help me create.  However when part of your bookcase looks like this... (and that was the tidy section) you know it's time to do something about it...bookcase, life, and all. I dream of having a work area looking like this.... with shelves looking like this.... Dream I repeat because it won't happen...not for me. However I'm intending to make this year the year of declutter- of removal- of taking away- of getting rid of---of throwing out. I've began in a small household way- out...