Poetry Box Challenge: t r a v e l p o e m s

 

Awhile ago I saw Lonely Planets held a world-wide poetry competition for children to write travel poems … poems about favourite places (it’s over now).

So this month I challenge you to write a poem about another place (not the suburb you live in).

It might be another town or city or country. It might be another suburb. It might be a tourist attraction. A mountain, a river, a forest, a paddock, a street, an ocean, a museum.

It might be what you ate there or did there or saw there. The best pasta or ice cream or noodles.

It might be somewhere or something you would like to show a visitor in your own place.

 

You might have been there and can use your experience.

You might not have been there but can do a little research/reading/asking. In this case you can use your imagination to play with what you discover.

How can you give your poem that extra zing?

 

  1. use good detail
  2. imagine you are taking a photo with words
  3. hunt for surprising things about this place
  4. write your poem as though you are telling someone about the place
  5. use your senses
  6. play with how you set the poem out
  7. try writing a poem postcard about the place
  8. write about the place as a poem letter
  9. write two words that sum up the place then don’t use the in the poem. Find other words to show how the place is beautiful and fun for example.
  10. think about the ending. Try three then pick your favourite.
  11. remember children of all ages read this blog (I don’t publish poems that might disturb young children)

 

 

Have fun! Read your poem out loud. Don’t send it to me straight away. Keep it for a day or two then see if you want to change anything.

 

SEND your poem to paulajoygreen@gmail.com

DEADLINE Wednesday September 28th

Include your name, age, year and name of school. You can include your teacher’s email if you like.

P l e a s e    p u t   ‘Travel poem’ in the subject line of your email.

I will pick some favourites to post on the blog and have a book for at least one reader and maybe even a book for a class.

I will post on  Friday 30th September.

Poetry Box – some of my favourite story poems

My story-poem challenge was so popular because I have spent hours reading though all my poem mail.  Thank you!

I loved the way your stories made me laugh, surprised me and sometimes made me a bit sad.

That is what poems can do.

I picked poems that told stories.

Sometimes there were very good poems that I loved but the subject was too strong or old for my blog. You need to remember that 5-year-olds read this blog!

 

I am sending a copy of The Letterbox Cat to a class entry this time: Mr Duncan‘s seven-year-olds at Seven Oaks School.

I am also sending a copy of The Letterbox Cat to Daniel from Fendalton School.

 

Congratulations if I picked your poem to share but remember every poem was a joy to get.

Do try my new challenge tomorrow.

 

Pickle cat goes to the Olympics

As Pickle cat woke up bright,
He got a large giant fright!
It was the day of many events,
“The Olympics!” he said. “Where are my tents?”
And when he found his camping gear,
He brushed and combed and tidied his hair.
And he set off in his car,
Which he called Avatar.
He arrived and he got into his running shoes,
He was certain he wouldn’t lose.
And when his race came he sprinted to the start,
Just quick enough to miss being hit by a dart.
3,2,1! Said the starter,
And he sprinted but people shouted re start her!
He sprinted across the finish line,
The gold medal is all mine!
But Pickle cat only got silver,
He was beaten by a cat called Builder!
“Wait wait, we have made a mistake!
The first place winner was that cat by the lake!”
And Pickle cat glanced up,
To see the starter handing him the golden cup!
“Oh, my luck!”
Exclaimed Pickle cat.” I thought I would be stuck!”
So Pickle cat drove home,
To where he could roam,
Without have pressure on his head,
So Pickle cat hopped into bed
He read the daily news paper,
With a massive heading The Great Olympics Muddle Up Caper
With a sigh he fell asleep,
As the newspaper dropped at his feet.

Scarlett, Y4, age 8, Chelsea Primary School

 

 

Grandma

Her old cottage,
sits cold and still.
I stare through
the fogged up window.
Grandma is lying
on the hard aged couch .
My family sits
around her with
red puffy eyes.
A loud rumble
coming from under
her house.
EARTHQUAKE!
Grandma sits up
and says goodbye.
She had a grateful heart.

Maddie S Year 8  12 years old Selwyn House School

 

Ski Day

Get up before the sun

Hop in the car

The mountains seem so far.

 

On the magic carpet

Up the hill we go

Then down the hill we go.

 

Time to go now

Hop back in the car

Now the mountains aren’t so far.

 By Isla Neale Age 7 Seven Oaks School

 

The saucepan man

The saucepan man
Has a clatter of pans
So when you see him
He will clatter and bang

The saucepan man
Has a clatter of pans
So when you see him
He’ll have his hands on his pans
And his pans on his hands

He hears things wrong
So he sings a funny song
“Two bees for a flower,
Two streets for a town.
Two showers for an hour.
Hi diddely gown.”
And that is the saucepan man!

Nell M Y4, age 8, Home school through Alpha. ‘I wrote a poem about my favorite character – the Saucepan Man from The Faraway Tree – it tells a story about how he likes pans and is a little bit deaf and sings funny songs.’

 

The Cat

The cat, the cat
It spits and spats.
Beware she’s a dangerous cat,
She spits and spats.
The cat sees a mouse in the middle of the kitchen floor.
She caught it, ate it and spits and spats

Teresa is a Year 3 student at St Andrews College, Christchurch

 

 

The Bread that Talked

I was having breakfast
And I buttered the bread.
I heard a voice.
What was that?
I realised it was the bread!!
It magically made me a king
With a bread
Suddenly my friend came
And said to me “My Lord”
And I was happy.

Soeren W Ilam School 7 years old

 

My Brother’s Tournament

Next weekend

Packing already

So excited

 

Let’s go now

We will miss you

I hope I don’t have to kiss you

 

I wish him luck

I love you

So much

By Emily Murray Age 8 Seven Oaks School

 

The Netball Game

Arrived at the courts
Puddles three inches deep
Seven minutes until we start
How are we going to warm up?
Shivering like an ice cube
Started now
Worst game
Numb body
Saturated from bottom to top
Everything gone dark
Fuse broken
“CLEAR THE COURTS”
Didn’t get to finish
Cut short
Netball.

Alexis 9 years Year 4 Stanmore Bay School                       

  

                       

Tomorrow  is Today

We know that tomorrow
Is always just today
from the sleeping on the ground
to the moping around
Our lives will never change
They will always stay the same

But there’s me and there’s you
And together we will make it through
From the illness
To the stillness of our lives
Sometimes it seems a little scary
And how you’re always really weary

You struggle to eat food
But I try to improve your mood
People in our shoes
have nothing to lose
And we will always have a say
In what will be our day

Except for the way
We survive and live
People are always willing to forgive
But not to give
No not what we need most
Not even like a piece of toast

But there’s me and there’s you
And we know that even if
Tomorrow will always just be
the same as today
We will always try
to make it our way

Amber J 12 years old Northcross Intermediate

 

Going to the Movies

Get in line

Smell the butter

What are we going to watch?

 

Say your choices

What seat are we sitting on?

Screen bigger then a jumbo jet

 

The movies are fun

I want to go again

Such an awesome treat

 

By Cooper Bunting Age 7 Seven Oaks School

 

Who Knows?

On the Way to School

Frost tickles the grass

Like little chunks of diamond

Maybe it is,

Who knows?

 

On the Way to School

Jaky’s little brother

Sticks his head out

Of their car

A mischievous grin

Scrawled on his face

As if he was

Devising an evil plan

Maybe he is,

Who knows?

 

On the Way to School

A boy with a

Bright blue backpack

Trots his way to school

Trottity-trot

Like a pony

Maybe he is one,

Who knows?

 

On the Way to School

Laughter fills the pathways

As if a clown was parading

Down the street

Maybe one is

Who knows?

 

On the Way Home

From school

The smell of baking

Wafts out of the house

Like cake

I bet it is cake

Trust me, I know!

 

Jasmine L 10 years old Year 5 Gladstone Primary School

 

 

Lost

One day I went to the river.

I found a piece of gladwrap and an old toy car.

I found a snail shell and two broken kites.

That night I wondered if I could find a seagull shell.

The next day I went to the river and found a seagull shell.

I noticed anything is possible if you BELIEVE!

By Daniel W Age 8 School Fendalton Open-Air school

 

 

 

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Sarah-Kate S, Age 11, Year 7, homeschooled

My poetry presentation for IBBY International Congress 2016

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To celebrate National Poetry Day I am posting this. It was an interactive presentation and we made up a beach poem that had us all laughing. Joy Cowley said it filled her with a warm kind of glow. Maybe we should be making up poems together on Poetry Day to head off into the day with warm inner glows (especially as the forecast is for rain).

H a p p y  P o e t r y   D a y !

 

 

 

 

Josephine likes lyric poetry

 

Josephine likes the way a poet will pull in a bird or

a ladder or an old coat and the bird and the ladder and

the old coat will tremble and shiver and ebb and flow

just like the sea so you will fall upon the fullness of each

and it will make you shift on your chair and almost stop

breathing.

 

This poem is from my new collection, New York Pock Pocket, a book that is as much about my travels in poetry as it is NYC. Poetry is music. It is encyclopedic. It is telling stories. It is leaving gaps. It is home, it is not home. It is pulling at the moon and digging dirt channels. Poetry is counting buttons, making patterns, feeling cold, letting the kite go free. There are no rules. There are no rules that cannot be broken. Poetry is the squelchy, shiny, rough edged, smooth piped, whizzwhirl, slow curve, exhilarating playground.

Children love it.

I love it.

I am the little girl on the stair reciting AA Milne to her siblings

Begin with the ear. Begin by listening because poetry is music. Each word a musical note that strikes so sweetly in its melody along the line. A poem, a book, an audience, and the poet begins with the ear to pull the listener in closer. Ask a child what a poem is and they will always say rhyme. A poem is rhyme and that rhyme is a source of both comfort and delight.  Rhyme makes your body move. It might be Dr Seuss rhyme where the goat in the boat can’t float because she wears an extra coat.

Or near-miss rhyme where the goat in the boat can’t hope to float because her chauffer and swimming coach are making cheese toasties.

 

The poet lays down rhyme on the end of the line like a plummeting waterfall, spray flying, or hides rhyme, salt and pepper style, throughout the poem.

 

Which Jack?

 

A Jack in the box

a Jack in his socks

a Jack in the moon

a Jack in tune

a Jack on the grass

a Jack’s gone past

a Jack on a camel

a Jack and his flannel

a Jack climbing rocks

a Jack in a box.

 

What happens when the rhyme is outside the poem and the children have to go hunting with their ears?

 

 

 

Where the Mild Things Are!

 

Last night I heard the wind in the meadows

talking to the lion in the willows

about Captain Holeypants

and the Lord of the Rungs.

The wind said he had found

a chamber of sea crates,

a very hungry cat

the caterpillar in the hat

and Georgia’s marbley medicine.

The lion said she had found

elastic Mr. Fox, an iron

an itch and a bathrobe,

and a series of fortunate events

over the pea and under bones.

 

 

 

I am fond of the word moon. I am fond of moon poems. The poet is always looking for an electrical connection when she places this word next to that word. Poems don’t have to rhyme. We know that. The aural spark is like a sizzle, a cackle, a whisper, a crackle, a wind bent pine in the ear. If I am with an audience of children, we are going to make poems on the spot so that the child becomes poet and itches to pick up a book or a pen and make words sing.

So.

Find me a word that sparks with moon.      ___________ moon

Find me two words that spark with moon.

So.

We are making chords and the musical note is the word and the word as sound makes your ankles twitch and your back wriggle and soon we will all be shuffling in time to the moon.

 

 

Poets like to repeat themselves. The comfort of repetition is a way of laying down anchors, a way of remembering, a way of building and then switching like a dart to make a change. Children love this. The way you can surprise yourself when you repeat your self.

 

When I Am Cold

 

When I am cold

I get goose bumps.

 

When I am very cold

I get tiger bumps.

 

When I am very very cold

I get rhinoceros bumps.

 

When I am very very very cold

I get elephant bumps.

 

When I am very very very very cold

I get whale bumps.

 

When I am very very very very very cold

I drink hot chocolate and wear thick socks.

 

 

Poets like taking walks when they write and sometimes the rhythm is di da di da di da di da di da di da but there are no rules and we don’t need to adhere to iambic pentameter because when we walk we might stop and stare or race to get to the oak tree or leap over the mud puddle or drop our sunglasses in the long spindly grass. When I am walking or running on the beach in the morning I sometimes stop and gaze at the Tasman sea. I might see a sleek black seal or a white cap sneezing.

 

Children start playing with syllables and the rhythm of the line dances and cavorts.

So.

Think of the wind. Find one syllable words to go with the wind.

Think of the wind again but use words with longer syllables

 

Think of the wind for one last time and mix up one syllable words with longer words.

 

If I am mixing up rhyme and rhythm and repetition, I also like mixing up things. The ear always goes hand in hand with the eye.

 

The Bonnet Macaque: An Omnivore

 

What does the bonnet macaque

keep in her cheek pocket?

Does she store the rocky shore

a dining-room table and the horse’s stable

comic books and clucking chooks

basket balls and outlandish fools

DVDs and TVs

snowboards and Aunt Maude

lollipops and circus flops

snorkelling gear and a grizzly bear

sharp scooters and football hooters?

 

There’s no couch in her cheek pouch

for in her larder for a starter

she hoards a one stop shop —

luscious food for every mood.

 

 

Poets have an inbuilt telescope, microscope, set of binoculars because they are looking through windows and doors, real or imagined, stretching necks to reach tree tops or slithering chins along dusty tracks to see how ants move. Something catches the eye and we are off. Something catches the child’s eye and he or she is off. I can tell the story of my dog that needs swimming lessons every time we go to the beach and the way she can swim like a fish. Her black tail flicking. Her little paws gliding. Every morning she is the churning chunking concrete mixer.  Until she gets that swimming lesson. The child can picture my dog and laugh.

Your eye catches something and it can lead anywhere. It makes you feel something, think, discover, recognise. When you write from that physical detail, it is as though you hold a stethoscope to the world. You hear the heartbeat of the leaf or the balloon or the dripping ice cream and you just need to write. Like when I stood in from of a pair of boots at the immigration Centre on Ellis Island in New York.

 

 

The little boots

 

To see the little brown boots

—scuffed at the toes

from kicking stones

and falling over,

with soft red lining

and laces left long ago

goodness knows where,

oh dear empty boots—

is to fall into the hollow

your child’s head once left

on the pillow

as she dreamt of

secret things, and to fall

yet again, deeper still

into the mysterious hollow

of her adolescence,

with the moon overhead.

 

 

Your eye catches something and your imagination goes sailing. Children love that. Your eye catches something and it feels very ordinary like the red tractor in the yellow field with black birds squawking. Or the cold blue sea rushing through your toes. Children love that. The physical detail pulls you into what is comfortable and familiar and loved and when you put it in a poem it seems shiny and new. Then again the physical detail lets you leapfrog into daydream so that the cold blue sea curls like ivy up your cold blue legs. The cold blue sea writes a letter to the cold blue moon in the wet sand. Or the red tractor is so hungry it eats a mountain of nails and a river of tin cans and a glacier of cooking oil.

This could be story, poems love story, but I am saying it is a poem.

After rhyme children love similes and they are the kings and queens of finding good ones. A good simile is like a little flare in a poem— a bright light that gives the poem life. It flips the shoe so you see it in all its orange beauty. It somersaults the sun in all its raging heat. It skyrockets the cat in its breathtaking leap.

 

 

 

A Slow Sky Tonight

 

The clouds are moving

across the sky like tiny snails,

the trees whisper tiny secrets

that nobody can hear

and a pink light lights up

the faraway hills.

Dinner is nearly ready.

 

 

Let’s have a go. Let’s make up a poem on the spot.

Let’s say we are at the beach. Let’s say we are standing on the sand dunes looking at the beach. What will we see? Excuse the pun.

 

Three words at least one thing

Five words at least two things

Four words at least two things

Two words

Three words at least one verb

Three words at least one verb

Four words at least one thing

Three words

 

 

A last poem.

 

The Statue of Liberty

She pauses and lets her imagination go

because she is standing under the Statue of Liberty

next to a leaf that flutters.

 

Is it a religious experience, to pause

with your imagination drifting and count

your freedoms and notfreedoms?

The freedom to work and the notfreedom

to work, the freedom to love and

the notfreedom to love.

 

There, the little leaf is on the boy’s shoe.

He doesn’t move an inch, even when his

mother calls and calls. ‘Dance little leaf

dance,’ he whispers.

 

Two sisters stand in different poses smile

and wait for their photograph to be taken.

 

 

‘What if I were that person in the bright green suit

or this person slumped in the shade

of that person talking like a megaphone?’

Josephine whispers.

 

 

The poems are all mine and either from my NY book, or  The Letterbox Cat or the anthology I edited A Treasury of NZ Poetry for Children.

 

 

Inside the Wild

Te Henga, December 2013

 

 

You see the grey clouds kiss and the ocean

go flying, the grey-cloud eiderdown and the metallic wild.

The old man bends forty-five degrees

 

into the west-coast wind, his golden Labrador

falling behind. A dotterel puffs out

to block your path. It stamps and trembles.

 

Then there is the abandoned umbrella splayed

liked piano fingers. The washed–up crate from Moana Fisheries.

Broken bottles. Even that. The black sand glint

 

and the cotton frocks that shimmy. A mad tui tries to devour a sparrow.

Kishawk. Kishawk. You are dazzled by the gull’s slow landing

and the knee-high foam. This is morning.

 

The grey ocean twists and the southerly slaps, and amidst

the rockaby collisions, you fall upon a blissful quiet.

 

Poetry Box says ‘Happy National Poetry Day’ – some ideas for you and a brand new poem

Happy Phantom Billstickers National Poetry Day

 

There are poetry events all over NZ today. I am in Wellington and going to at least three!

 

What can you do?

 

Send a poem to a friend – on a postcard, in an email, by snail mail.

Read your favourite poetry book to someone.

Make up a poem using no more than twelve words. Or no less than fifty!

 

Talk  about a poem that you love in class. Send me a letter about your favouite poem and I will post some. paulajoygreen@gmail.com

Chalk poems in your school playground.

Hang poems in a tree. In your class window.

Tell me what you ar doing for poetry day.

 

Write  a poem together with friends or your class – each take a line. I will post some. paulajoygreen@gmail.com

 

here is the poem I wrote when I woke up:

 

Flying to Wellington (for Gemma and Daniel)

 

The plane sliced through the cloud

to the bright blue day

I had left my dog sleeping by the fire

the rain pouring like cats and more cats

she is dreaming of seagulls

I am dreaming of a the tiniest

poem in the world,

so tiny an ant could squash it,

 

but under a microscope

it would glitter

and hop.

 

 

Upstairs Gallery children’s animations on the BIG SCREEN !

This looks amazing!

 

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We are proud to present the Upstairs Gallery children’s animations on the BIG SCREEN ! Come along and be WOWED by their creativity and animation skills taught at the recent WORD CIRCUS workshop, run by Martin Sercombe.

Where: Flicks Cinema, (basement of Lopdell House)
When : Thursday 8th September
Time : 7.30pm

BOOKINGS ARE ESSENTIAL

Please email: gallery@upstairs.org.nz

or call on 09 817 4278 to confirm your seat.

IBBY International Congress 2016 in Auckland- a very special event


 

 

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IBBY is the International Board for Books for Young People and has very noteworthy aims. Chiefly IBBY believes it is the right of all children to hold a book and read regardless of their status (gender, economic, ability, ethnicity, disability and so on).

Around 500 delegates from over 60 countries attended the four-day event. I had no idea what it would be like but it was quite extraordinary.

The representations, whether keynote or parallel, were terrific. I drove back to the coast each night buzzing with ideas and a keenness to write and read new things. Good food, good conversations and exciting new connections.

 

Thank you Dr Libby Limbrick and Rosemary Tisdall, and your visionary team, both locally and from IBBY, for creating such an astonishing event. You both deserve a huge round of applause from our nation of readers. We are in your debt. Thank you. You are stars.

 

In his opening address, IBBY President, Wally De Doncker talked about the aims of the organisation in view of human rights and common goals. He said New Zealand had a fine record in terms of gender but there were areas of concern such as our immigration policies. Some delegates were refused entry into New Zealand for the Congress. This also happens with some writers invited to our literary festivals. What can we do about this?

The graphics were sublime.

 

I didn’t get to everything but here are some selected highlights for me (one regret was I couldn’t see Leigh Hobbs, the Australian Children’s Laureate).

 

1   The key note session included  Joy Cowley, Kate De Goldi and Witi Ihimaera and the combination was genius.

Joy Cowley talked about the way her country never appeared in her early reading. Children saw themselves in the School Journal but that was not a book. Three decades later, it had become a passion for Joy that children could see themselves in the books they read. I was delighted to hear Joy say that children’s literature is no longer an occupation for those who have failed at ‘real writing.’ I still see an unfortunate hierarchy here (we have no Children’s Laureate, children’s books get less reviewed, no Prime Minister’s Award, less time on the stage at festivals talking to adults for a start) but the Congress underlined the vitality of heart and thinking on an international scale. I particularly liked the way Joy challenged us: ‘to pause and remember a time in your childhood when you felt you could do anything — keep that inner child along with the learned adult. I first thought we aged like apples, grew ripe, wrinkled and fell off the tree, but I think we grow like onions adding layers.

Kate De Goldi asked if there is room for nuanced, contemplative writing for the middle reader – writing that is both meditative and intellectually playful. Kate talked about running her way into a new project with Gecko Press: an annual for children that will be out later this year. She interviewed her eleven-year-old self to find out what is needed. The annual is based on commission rather than submission with many adult writers (James Brown, Jenny Bornholdt) invited to produce work according to a governing idea. I like the way there is a desire to open different realities, different forms, adventures. I came away wondering what an eleven-year-old child in 2016 will stick to like glue.

Witi Ihimaera talked about the genesis of The Whale Rider and the importance of family. I didn’t make notes and wanted to push replay when he finished talking. It felt like he had soothed us into the comfort and necessity of storytelling and then pricked that state of comfort with provocative questions for a world ill at ease. Galvanising for those of us who write and read within a state of privilege.

 

2  A kapa-haka group from Mainfreight School in Auckland. Magnificent.

 

3   There is No Such Thing as a Children’s Book: Kate De Goldi with Leonard Marcus and Julia Eccleshare.

Marcus was a remedial reader but his break through moment was poetry. “Why don’t you write that poem for me and then read it to me?’ he was asked. Poetry was his way into reading! I am constantly harping on about the way poetry is a tool of liberation for children.

Kate juxtaposed two questions: ‘Is there usefulness?’ as opposed to ‘Is there play?’ In my view, poetry is first and foremost the playground for children writing and reading.

Julia juxtaposed ‘commentators’ talk’ as opposed to ‘writers talking.’ And this gold nugget: You don’t read, as a child reader, a children’s book for what adult critics say you are reading it for.’

Julia also asked if children’s authors are disrespected by adult authors. She suggested Philip Pullman gave children’s literature intellectual respectability and JK Rowling gave financial viability. And on the reading reward: ‘if you read Tom’s Midnight Garden, the whole of life is in there.’

Tellingly from Julia: In the past, children’s authors wrote the book they wanted to write with time and authorial autonomy but it is not like that now. She added, ‘it takes time to nurture authors and reach the classic book. Now the ink is hardly dry from the publisher’s pen and the book is out.’

Kate provocatively said she had found the YA form interesting and mysterious but now she loathes it.

Julia said the YA market has lost true commitment to the young reader. She said the central place from which you tell a story makes it different from adult books. You get a view of the world from a child’s eye.

Marcus could understand the teenage love of dystopian fiction because they have a sense of adults no longer able to control things in the world.

Julia is most gleeful about the book she picks up that sweeps her away (one in 10,000) and for Marcus, graphic novels.

 

4. Cultural Diversity in Children’s Literature: Nadia Wheatley, Gavin Bishop, Nahoko Uehashi.

This was a standout session for me but sadly the speaker before borrowed over 20 minutes of their time slot. It was fascinating hearing the stories behind some of Gavin Bishop’s stories and the way he provided books that are a kind of mirror. His show and tell was a direct response to his Māori ancestry and his Pākehā upbringing.

Nahoko was a revelation. She spoke briefly in English and then a translator  read an English version of her presentation. Nahoko accompanied it with sign gestures. She began by saying she has only ever worn a kimono twice, loves Japanese food but also Korean BBQ and pasta. No one questions her Japanese identity. Here are some bits I gleaned from her talk that sent me in search of her books:

Outside Japan, I am an exotic minority  – I wanted to write a book that could only be written by a Japanese writer.

I am swept along by a torrent or words – if readers find a trace of Japan it is because my unconscious is permeated with Japanese.

We are not left forever divided – one element that allows us to understand each other is story.

I am Japanese but can become a Celtic slave. I can live within a book penned by an English woman.

The ultimate proof we can all understand one another is we can all share stories.

No person is truly free from cultural limitations. We can reach out and grasp each other’s hand. Stories empower us to do this. Stories empower us, creatures of imagination, to become others.

Nadia was also a revelation. Like others I raced down to buy a copy of Flight but it had sold out. My copy is now on order!

 

5. Identity in YA Literature

With her IBBY Honour Book acknowledged at the festival, Mandy Hager was a standout for me: ‘Stories are a safe way to explore things.’ ‘Participants walk along with the protagonist.’ ‘You must do things you think you cannot do.’ I was disappointed not to see her book in the Penguin Random House stall.

 

6. Imagination in an Age of Reason: Julia Eccleshare with Kate De Goldi, Ursula Dubosarsky and Kathleen Paterson.

Julia suggested we need to keep imaginative literature alive and flourishing if we want to keep children readers. She asked the panelists to name a talismanic book for them (Kate, Harry the Dirty Dog and Katherine, The Secret Garden).

I loved Ursula’s claim that you need to keep somethings completely secret from the reader; things that give you the energy to write the book.

Kate: I can only set books in Christchurch.

Ursula: I don’t describe in my books.

Katherine: I have done very little describing of Terabithia. Children do their own describing.

Ursula: Children are quite happy with a state of unknowledge.

Katherine: Children tell you things about your book you didn’t know.

Kate: I have burglarised though disguised my family’s lives. I can do a male POV but never try to inhabit another ethnicity or culture.

Katherine: When I was first learning to write and I was an adult it was ‘write what you know’ but I didn’t know anything.

Katherine: Movie people couldn’t believe money wouldn’t buy a sequel to Bridge to Terabithia.

 

7 Verse and a Diverse World

I was in this session but came away with a long list of YA novels in verse I am itching to read. Chris Crowe from USA talked about the genesis of his verse novel, Death Coming Up the Hill, and it was riveting. He spoke about how a story he thought was really badly written was transformed by his love of the number 17, some mathematical equations and a sequence of haiku. He gave me a copy so I can speak further on this.

 

8  Marcus Zusak

Marcus stood on stage and told a long knotty snaky personal story on how The Book Thief came to life. Then read from a new novel,’Bridge of Clay,’ he has been working from. His storytelling started with the family anecdote of the alarm clock where his dad smashed Marcus’s beloved clock on the floor because the alarm went off in the middle of the night. Marcus was in the lounge hoping to watch Christmas cartoons (he was obsessed with them!).

After reading the new extract, Marcus returned to the image of the alarm clock: ‘As writers we are always digging things up. I am always back in the bedroom picking up the pieces of the alarm clock and realise it is still ticking.’ Wonderful.

 

9  The Hans Christian Anderson Awards Dinner at Shed 10

Every two years this award is given to a writer and to an illustrator.

This year: Cao Wenxuan (China) and Rotraut Susanne Berner (Germany)

Susanne sent an animation from Germany as she could not be there and Cao made a glorious speech in Chinese with an English translation beautifully inscribed on the screen. I had read and loved his  book, Bronze and Sunflower, over summer,so it was very special to hear his speech.

Here is a sample of favourite bits:

I can’t sacrifice my life experience to make children happy.

Literature is another form of house building.

Certainly it should not be any empty house.

I no longer use clay, twigs or building blocks. Instead I use words.

On some occasions, I feel like a bird with its wings clipped of but at least I can go back to my house of words and have a rest.

Writing comforts our hearts which are consistently beating for freedom.

 

National Poetry Day: from today Havelock North pops out poetry – cool idea

Havelock North

Pop out poetry
Poems will be let loose throughout the Hastings District Libraries to celebrate NZ Poetry Day and Havelock North is in on the action. Poetry will pop out of the collections the week of 22-26 August; anywhere from sports to general fiction. You could spot them anywhere!
Entry Details: Free. All ages.
Date/Times: Mon 22 August – Fri 26 August, 9am – 6pm
Locations: Havelock North Library, 30 Te Mata Road, Havelock North
Contact: libraries@hdc.govt.nz
Further Info

 

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National Poetry Day in Wellington: Mākaro Press does parks and buckets

 

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Poets in the Park
A panoply of poets perform their work for passersby and prescient perchers. Bring a packed or purchased lunch to hear poets of Mākaro Press and Steele Roberts, whose offices peek over the park. Come and hear: Harvey Molloy • Kerry Popplewell • Tim Jones • Maggie Rainey-Smith • Keith Westwater • Pete Carter • Robyn Cooper • Peter Stuart • Stefanie Lash • Polina Kouzminova • Jamie Trower.
Entry Details: Free. Open to all ages.
Date/Times: 26 August, 12-1.15pm
Location: Glover Park, Ghuznee Street, Wellington city.
Contact: makaropress@gmail.com

Buckets of Poets
Poets busk their poems beside the ebullient bucket fountain of Cuba Mall. Bring your lunch and be prepared to be blown away by the poets of Mākaro Press and Steele Roberts, whose offices are in the Cuba precinct. Come and hear: Harvey Molloy • Kerry Popplewell • Tim Jones • Maggie Rainey-Smith • Keith Westwater • Pete Carter • Robyn Cooper • Peter Stuart • Stefanie Lash • Polina Kouzminova • Jamie Trower.
Entry Details: Free. Open to all ages.
Date/Times: 26 August, 2-3.15pm
Location: The bucket fountain, Cuba Mall, Wellington.
Contact: makaropress@gmail.com

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National Poetry Day in Wellington: next up Unity Books and it looks very good indeed

 

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Six Poets In Sixty Minutes
Celebrate National Poetry Day by heading to Unity Books to listen to Hera Lindsay Bird, Harvey Molloy, Bill Nelson, Rachel O’Neill, Kerrin P Sharpe and Tim Upperton read from their work.
Entry Details: Free. Open to all ages.
Date/Times: Friday 26 August, 1-2pm
Location: Unity Books, 57 Willis Street, Wellington
Contact: Dylan Sherwood wellington@unitybooks.co.nz

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National Poetry Day in the Herald: some thoughts, a favourite poem and ten poems that have stuck to me

The NZ Herald invited to share some thoughts on poetry for National Poetry Day. Here is my contribution in full, including a favourite poem and a list of poems that have stuck to me.

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Paula with Courtney Sina Meredith’s fabulous Tail of the Taniwha

 

Josephine likes lyric poetry

 

Josephine likes the way a poet will pull in a bird or a ladder

or an old coat and the bird and the ladder and the old coat

will tremble and shiver and ebb and flow just like the sea

so you will fall upon the fullness of each and it will make

you shift on your chair and almost stop breathing.

 

From New York Pocket Book Seraph Press, 2016

 

 

Poetry is a form of music. There are no rules you can’t break. Poems can tell stories, make lists, leave things out, share secrets, make things up, confess things, protest in a loud voice. A good poem can take you out in the world and turn you upside down so everything looks different. It can push you down a steep slope that is really exhilarating or put you in front of something strange or wonderful so you just have to stop and linger as though you are in a bush clearing or on an unfamiliar street or peeking through a door ajar. Sometime the hairs on the back of your arm might stand on end, especially when you hear a good poem read out loud (Bill Manhire, Michele Leggott, David Eggleton). Good poems can sometimes misbehave (Hera Lindsay Bird) or make you suck your cheeks in because they tang with life (Emma Neale) or make you swop shoes (Sarah Jane Barnett, Anna Jackson, Helen Rickerby). We don’t have to get everything in a poem. A good poem is where a poet takes shoes and socks off and stands in a southern stream in the middle of winter. Anything is possible. Some poems don’t suit us and some poems are a match made in heaven (Tusiata Avia, Bernadette Hall, Joan Fleming, Ian Wedde, Chris Price, Gregory O’Brien, Murray Edmond, Elizabeth Smither, Steven Toussaint).

 

 

A favourite poem

I love Rachel Bush’s ‘Sing Them’ because she is singing out of near death, unfolding lines until they ‘float,’ and there is love and memory, even at ‘the cold leftover end/ of the rind of winter,’ and I feel sad as I read but she lets the world shine and each phrase is extraordinary.

 

 

Ten New Zealand poems that have stuck to me (sticky poems)

Jenny Bornholdt ‘The Rocky Shore’

James Brown ‘The Bicycle’

Anne Kennedy ‘Sing-Song’

Michele Leggott ‘Blue Irises’

Margaret Mahy ‘Down the Back of the Chair’

Bill Manhire ‘Hotel Emergencies’

Selina Tusitala Marsh ‘Fast Talking PI’

Cilla McQueen ‘Being Here’

CK Stead ‘Auckland’

Hone Tuwhare ‘Rain’

 

 

 

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Best Books I never wrote – Mahy Manhire, Neale and McQueen

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To celebrate my new poetry collection, Fairfax invited me to share some book titles for their regional papers. It is very fitting the weekend I am at the glorious IBBY Congress in Auckland, my first pick is by Margaret Mahy.

 

The Lion in the Meadow, Margaret Mahy

No matter what I write, Margaret Mahy’s fiendishly elastic, daringly inventive way with words is like my phantom grandmother. Take a lion, a matchbox, a boy and a mum and you get a classic story to which New Zealander writers are all in debt. The ending is genius and still gives me goosebumps.

 

for the other three  … see here

Poetry Day Wellington: second up – The National Library

Poetry Day at the National Library

  • Date: Friday, 26 August, 2016
  • Time: 12.10pm – 1.00pm
  • Cost: Free
  • Location: Te Ahumairangi (ground floor), National Library, corner Molesworth and Aitken Streets
  • Contact Details: For more information, email Peter.Ireland@dia.govt.nz

Poetry at its best with Wellington poets Anna Jackson, Magnolia Wilson, Ashleigh Young, James Brown and John Dennison in a lunchtime reading at the National Library.

The poets will read their own work and poems by poets they like. Bring your lunch if you wish, and be early for a good seat.

 

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:)

August Challenge on Poetry Box – telling little poem stories

Poems that tell little stories can be really fun to read. Your challenge this month is to write a story poem. It can be really short or medium.

Here are some tips for you:

 

Use something that happened to you or someone you know as a starting point.

You don’t have to tell the whole story! Tell the bits that interest or fascinate you.

You can keep it real or add a dollop of imagination. Or do more than one version.

 

Retell a story from a book you have read

You might keep bits the same and you might add your own twists but you will have to miss things out – it is a poem after all.

 

Retell a myth or legend

Which bits matter and need to be in your poem? You might write from the point of view of one of the characters.

 

Take a book title as a starting point for your poem and then write your own story poem.

 

Take a newspaper headline as a starting point and then write your own story poem.

 

Take a favourite character from a story you like and invent a little poem story for them.

What changes about them?

 

What changes in your story poem?

Is there a surprise? There doesn’t have to be!

 

Try different beginnings and endings.

 

h a v e     f u  n     ! * ! *!

 

SEND your poem to paulajoygreen@gmail.com

DEADLINE Saturday August 27th

Include your name, age, year and name of school. You can include your teacher’s email if you like.

P l e a s e    p u t   ‘Story poem’ in the subject line of your email.

I will pick some favourites to post on the blog and have a book for at least one reader and maybe even a book for a class.

I will post on Wednesday August 31st.