Exciting New Developments in 2008

The WordsFlow group resumes on February 1st, 1-3.30pm
at the Neighbourhood Centre, Elizabeth Street, Pottsville Beach.

All welcome. Gold coin donation. Afternoon tea provided.
Don't forget your notebook and pen!

February Workshops:

And we're kicking off first term with a real treat! One of our members has been studying with the backpain relief association, a registered charity, and has started teaching exercises and breathing techniques that help with healing the body and mind. Her teacher is an extraordinarily talented man known to his students only by his nickname of "Elvis". He's an international speaker and presenter, a retired naturopath, a meditation teacher, a singer/songwriter, has a post-graduate degree in professional writing, has been writing for 40 years and published over 100 books – and he is willing to do a workshop with us free of charge on "writing health". (How to get better at writing, deal with writer's block, and so forth.) If you happen to be in the neighbourhood, please drop in! You are welcome to ask friends and family along too. Feb 1st is his only available date in the near future, so we grabbed it!

Then on Feb. 15th we have a young performance poet and magazine editor, Stefanie Petrik





Stefanie will run a workshop on

(1) innovative methods of creating poems
(2) literary magazines – submitting work / creating your own lit. mag.

Don't stay away if you think you're not a poet – it will all have broader ramifications. I know her work and have seen her in performance, and she's dynamic! She's also a real sweetie. AND she is going over to Texas in April for the poetry festivals just as I did in 2006.

Because people were so generous in fund-raising for me, I want to pass on the favour. Again, if you're nearby, please bring any interested friends. Donations will go to Stef for her Texas funds. She will also have books and merchandise (badges and things) for sale.

We request $5 donation if possible for these events (or as near as you can manage) to reimburse the presenters for their costs.

Other projects this year are:

1) a Seniors' Week project to interview long-term residents about their reminiscences, scan any photos people care to lend us, create a display for Seniors' Week and look at producing a book later.

2) the production of a community newsletter.

3) a book for children in hospital. We're hoping to combine with the new art group at the Neighbourhood Centre, so that we can have it illustrated.

4) and of course, as always, lots of writing and lots of fun!

- Rosemary (Facilitator)

Poetry Workshop, Thom-style

Thom's poetry workshops, like his performances, are characterised by his infectious energy. He's very up-beat and barely seems to stop for breath. And yet you don't end up feeling frenetic but inspired. He's light, gentle, fun, non-threatening – and he never for one moment entertains the idea that anyone present 'can't do it'.

Apart from that, like myself he uses the Natalie Goldberg technique of timed writing (outlined in her books for writers, Writing Down the Bones and Wild Mind) the first rule of which is 'Keep your hand moving'. She adds, 'Don't pause to reread the line you have just written. That's stalling and trying to get control of what you're saying.' In Wild Mind she says, 'When you sit down to write, whether it's for ten minutes or an hour, once you begin don't stop. If an atom bomb drops at your feet eight minutes after you have begun and you were going to write for ten minutes, don't budge. You'll go out writing.'

There are other rules, such as don't cross out, don't think, don't worry about spelling, punctuation or grammar and 'you are free to write the worst junk in the world'. The idea is to bypass the internal censor or editor and break through to what she calls 'first thoughts' which is where the energy is – and therefore, I would add, the originality. It doesn't mean you never edit your work, but you don't keep stopping to rewrite your first draft; that comes later. First of all go for it and get it down.

Her final rule is 'go for the jugular'. That is, if you find yourself writing something that scares you, that's too rude or too revealing, don't inhibit it. Chances are, there's something powerful there. (And hey, you can always edit it out later if you really must.)

Most writers who read Ms Goldberg find her very inspiring, and if we lead workshops we use her basic method which we have found to work for us. It's a foundation for our own methods.

If you're writing alone, working on your own novel, poem or whatever, you might decide to go for an hour. In a workshop setting with a number of different people, naturally each exercise lasts only a few minutes. (It's wonderful how much you can get down in two, if you keep your hand moving etc.)

In the workshop Thom gave us in Pottsville, I think we had about 20 participants. Thom used all sorts of things as triggers or topics for writing. He was demonstrating to us that we need never be blocked or stuck. We're all endlessly inventive really, and can produce interesting writing on any subject, instantly.

He had a whole stack of pictures he passed around. There were postcards, personal photos, pictures from calendars, advertisements…. He had a number of copies of each, and it was fascinating that people would come up with very different interpretations of the same image.

He also used words as triggers. I was shocked to see him rip pages from an old volume of Robert Frost's poems, and hand them out to people with instructions to read, and then write whatever came to mind. I was brought up to believe books are sacred. You don't highlight passages, you don't annotate the margins, you don't turn down the corners of the pages to keep your place, and you certainly don't tear them up! Even worse, this was Robert Frost, acknowledged as one of the greats.

Then I realised it was a tattered, second-hand copy; it was the classic Penguin edition, unlikely to go out of print; I have the same edition on my bookshelf at home and Thom is not offering to come into my house and rip that up … and maybe he was conveying something important. To love and admire the work of great poets is one thing – to hold them as sacred icons may be self-defeating, leading us to feel there's no point in attempting any writing of our own.

There are some points to attempting it, though.
• Everyone, even Robert Frost, has to start somewhere.verdana;">• We all need self-expression.
• Your own voice may be more valuable than you think. When we write like this in WordsFlow sessions, it's notable that we are all different and that each one of us has fascinating things to say. We each tend to think our own writing is the least accomplished and least interesting – but to the rest of the group it's brilliant and enthralling, and may be exactly the thing that someone else needs to hear.

- Rosemary (Facilitator)

Thom the World Poet

Thom after poetry workshop

Thom, an Aussie now based in Texas, travels the world presenting his own poetry and promoting other people's. His commitment to this is partly derived from a belief that "spoken word poetry" (the current name for what I've always called performance poetry) is the last bastion of truly free speech, and gives a voice to those who might not have such ready access to other outlets.

In August 2005, his last visit to Australia, he did a poetry tour of various States, which took in the "Rainbow Region" of northern NSW, and even Pottsville, where he gave an exciting workshop as well as performing. He was one of the people who encouraged me to start the WordsFlow group, seizing on the idea of transforming Pottsville into Poetsville.

We're working on it! In fact, the group encompasses writers in all genres including poetry. And today, in honour of one of our – er – instigators, I share with you one of his most recent poems.

DISCOVERING GOLD

in the silver creek of liquid dreaming
in the chilled reminders of seasons
in the warmth of friends and family
in the kindnesses of strangers
in the rock of reality
in the cloud of unknowing fantasies
in the times stolen between time
in the affirmation and negation
if these days are dark,these lines are Light
if these nights are deep,these sounds skim skin surfaces
if outside seems static and screech
inner is temple and sanctuary
if other does not understand
another overstands
precious unfoldings-lips,flowers,touch,caress-
dance of spark in throat of next-red fire warm (good health!
winter auditions our green needs to see if we are worthy of our springs..
WHERE U FIND Jan 17,2008


© Thom the World Poet 2008

Rainbow Thom in performance

Some Haiku

By Margie Moore

[Margie sent haiku and senryu to her friends for Christmas. Below is a selection from them. We have also included the explanation of these poetic forms, which she wrote for her friends. - Rosemary (Facilitator)]

My Christmas gift to you is this smattering of mixed haiku & senryu – uncommon poetry styles – which originated in Japan but are blossoming in the English-speaking world, too. They look simple, but are harder to write than you realise until you have a go.

The focus of most English adaptations of haiku is on syllable counts: specifically, 5 syllables in the first line; 7 in the second and 5 again, in the third line.

The main objective is to show something important in a simple way, evocatively and without too much detail.

That is to say, the whole meaning that’s conveyed will be something greater than just the three small lines each poem fills.

Another way of explaining these styles of poetry is to say “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts”. You might simply say that the aim is to “show and not tell”.

Some poetry along these lines rhymes, but many – including my own – don’t.

The main difference between haiku & senryu – as I understand it – is that haiku speaks mainly about the writer in relation to the outer world.

Traditionally – but not exclusively – haiku is written about something a particular season evokes in the writer.

Senryu, on the other hand, connects with the writer’s inner or intrapersonal world.

The poems may, or may not, be titled. Here goes!


SEASONAL HAIKU

SUMMER

Arnhem Land

Stunning clouds gather
Restless, listless, comfort-less
Fabulous downpour!


AUTUMN

I come upon them
Down every street I wander
Delightful colour


I no longer need
An evening rug to keep me warm
Anticipation


WINTER

…in Canberra

Thin white covering
Crisp crackles under foot steps
Hot chocolate heaven!


Comfort food is good
- hang the extra weight put on -
I must be warmer!


SPRING

Gardening

Hopefully watching
Rejoicing eventually
At the small green things


The Sea

As my bones thaw out
My restless body, again
Yearns to float in Her


Soft caressing, as
You gently carry me
I love you, ocean


Moths

They fly in frenzy
On their rapturous journey
To their bright heaven


MISCELLANEOUS [not seasonal]:

Anniversary

On a sunny day
It’s raining inside my skin
As grief permeates


As I miss you again
I buy this treat you favoured
It tastes sweet and sad


Desert

Hating the Dark Night
Surprised by bloom in desert
Suddenly hopeful


Disability 1

Interrogation!
Pretend it’s not there, my chair
We’ve only just met


Disability 2

Pretend it’s not there,
My chair, and I won’t quiz
you, about your health


Dusk

Drawing my curtain
Sudden eyeball with gecko
Wonderful wildlife!


Grief

Still numb with sorrow
Shall I then play sad music
to hasten healing?


Haiku

Some folk can’t see it –
how three lines can excite us
Sometimes less is more


Loving Differently Now

Incrementally
Learning to stop loving you
What a waste it is


Love springs eternal
Despite many betrayals
Even so, good bye


A Result of Chronic Pain

Abundant time now,
Learning to be a “human
be-ing’” not do-ing


Photography

Oh, that’s riveting!
Click – the moment is frozen
My heart is singing


Sparky 1
[Sparky is my friend’s cat]

Soft paw pats my cheek
Loving purring in my ear
A new day is here


Sparky 2

Completely mute
Yet you speak so eloquently,
beloved feline


Snorkelling

Translucent swimmer
I watch you through my goggles
Tiny jelly-fish


Last, but not least, this is not haiku or senryu but I’ve got a bit of space and I like this little poem of mine, so here goes:


Re-creation

If I could form myself a form
a fish I’d be
No gravity, free


All these haiku are © M A Moore 2007.

Benjamin Barnaby Brown

By Nan Doyle

Benjamin Barnaby Brown sat on the front step of his mother’s shop.
He was bored. He had nobody to play with and his Mum was a very busy woman.
“My name is Benjamin Barnaby Brown,” he announced as an old lady approached.
She was tall and rather bony. She had a long nose and wrinkly skin. She had blue eyes that twinkled.
She smiled. “My name is Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom,” she replied, and went into the shop to buy her morning paper.
He went out the back to his toy box and fossicked around until he found his cowboy hat.
He went to the broom cupboard, untied his trusty steed and walked into the shop.
“Good-bye Benjamin Barnaby Brown,” said Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom.
He frowned. “I’m not Benjamin Barnaby Brown. I’m a cowboy.”
“Oh! Is this your horse?”
“Yep.” he replied “You can have a ride if you want. Hop on behind me. Hang on tight.”

They rode through the shop. Up and down the aisles.
Past the breakfast cereals, round the soaps and detergents, and galloped by the tinned food.
Benjamin Barnaby Brown waved his hat and yelled “Yee Haa!”
Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom waved her hat and shouted “Yah Hoo!”

Benjamin Barnaby Brown sat on the step waiting for Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom to come for her paper.
‘Hello Benjamin Barnaby Brown,” she said.
He frowned. “I’m not Benjamin Barnaby Brown. I’m Superman.”
“Oh! That is interesting! Can you fly?”
“Yep.” he said, flourishing the towel that was attached to his shoulders with two large safety pins. “Would you like to come for a fly with me? You’ll have to be an aeroplane. You put your arms like this and go Z000ooom!”

They flew through the shop. Past the pet food. Past the toiletries and landed in the hardware department.
“That was fun. Thank you Superman,” said Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom. She paid for her paper and went home.

Benjamin Barnaby Brown stood on the steps.
His hat was on sideways and he wore a black patch over one eye.
“Goodness me, Benjamin Barnaby Brown! Have you hurt yourself?” asked Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom.
“I am not Benjamin Barnaby Brown. I’m a pirate. You can be one too. Pirates only have one leg and you have to hop like this.”
They hopped by the ice cream department, past the soft drinks and the sweets and fell laughing on the floor near the papers and magazines.
“I like being a pirate.” Said Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom.

Some days they were butterflies, flittering and fluttering through the shop. Sometimes they were birds, or Red Indians, or slithering snakes.
One day they sat on a nest while Benjamin Barnaby Brown tied to hatch a chicken from an egg he had taken from the fridge.
That took too long, so his mother cooked it for his dinner that night.
They sat in a rocket ship and flew off into the universe to visit The Man In The Moon.
They passed through The Milky Way and many unknown galaxies.
Benjamin Barnaby Brown and Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom played a game every single day.

One morning Benjamin Barnaby Brown stood on the steps with his mother.
He wore socks and shiny black shoes. A blue shirt with buttons and grey shorts.
He looked sadly at Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom.
“I am Benjamin Barnaby Brown, and I have to go to school. Will you come with me?”
“I’m afraid I can’t to-day.” she said “I am Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom and I have to look after the shop for your Mum.”
She bent low and smiled at him. “You have a good day, young man.”

On Saturday Benjamin Barnaby Brown sat on the step, looking miserable.
When Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom came to collect her paper, he said, “I am Benjamin Barnaby Brown and I want to go to the park to play with my friends from school.”
“Well, why look so sad?” asked Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom.
“My Mum is too busy to take me and I’m not allowed to go by myself. Do you have time, Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom?”

She raised one hand above her head and pointed to the sky.
She extended her other arm to the side and pointed that way.
“I am not Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom,” she declared. “I am a clock and I have all the time in the world.”

Benjamin Barnaby Brown raced into the shop to grab his hat and tell his Mum.
Benjamin Barnaby Brown and Miss Rossington hyphen Rosenbloom walked to the park.
Tick Tocking all the way.

© Nan Doyle 1999