Tag Archives: Paula Green poem

Hello new season! The First of June is time for a winter poem and some photos

I love going to the beach early. Will I still swim in June? The water is definitely brbrbrbr colder but not too cold! Check out my poem and my photos. The sun had only just come up when we got back as you can see in the photo. Check out my challenge below.

 

Winter

Dark when you start running

and you hear the slap lap of the lagoon,

light when you get back

and see oyster catchers flying.

 

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ps That’s our dog Mollie!

If you want to try a winter poem send to me by June 12th (I will do another Winter Challenge next week and give you some tips). Send to paulajoygreem@gmail.com. Include your name, age, year and name of school. You can include the the name and email of your teacher. I will post my favourites and a book prize for one! Say it is for the Winter Challenge.

Using my eyes on an aeroplane

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Usually I write a poem with my head in the clouds and my feet on the ground.

Last week I flew to Wellington and wondered what it would be like to write a poem with my head on the ground and my feet in the clouds.

I used my eyes to hunt for a poem through the aeroplane window.

What strange place can you go hunting for a poem? And use your eyes to spot things?

 

F l y i n g

I am flying through a blue

that falls all the way to the ground,

but my feet are in the clouds.

I can see Mt Taranaki

with no winter clothes,

and white caps of foam

waving on the sea.

I wave back.

 

Have a go at writing a poem from somewhere different. Use your eyes to help you.

You can enter your poem in the Eye-Poem Challenge.

DEADLINE for your Eye-Poem Challenge: Thursday March 27th

Send to paulajoygreen@gmail.com. Include your name, year, age and name of school. You can include your teacher’s name and email. PLEASE say it’s for the eye-poem challenge.

I will post my favourites and have a book prize for one poet.

storm at the beach

Yesterday the wind was wild at the beach (yes! it often is on Auckland’s west-coast beaches).

I used my poetry net and used my eyes and collected this poem as I ran:

 

Storm

The sea white

washed the sand with foam,

flosh flash flosh.

 

The sea took

driftwood and weeds

halfway up the dunes,

swash swish swash.

 

Molly chased the foam

and chewed the wood.

My feet were icy cold.

 

The Grey Day gets a second draft … hmmm

Yesterday I wrote my poem using colours. Today I want to write another draft of it because it didn’t sound right to me as I read it.

Here are some things that I like to try when I edit my poems:

1. Is the first line doing its job? I try out others and then pick my favourite.

2. Is the last line doing its job? I try out others and then pick my favourite.

3. Does every line sound good? If not I play with the words a bit more.

4. Are there too many adjectives?

5. Is there something I could take out and leave the reader to guess?

6. Am I happy with the title?

 

Here is the first draft of my poem. I have put in bold the bits I am not happy with.

 

 

The Grey Day

 

out of the day glazed with grey

a black rooster with a red comb

a horse wearing a pale blue coat

a piece of orange rind on the black sand

a shrivelled yellow ball that will never bounce

footprints like stitching across the wet sand

two walkers dressed like black rocks

black rocks shivering like walkers in raincoats

purple jellyfish opening out like Japanese fans

little bluebottles that look like blue pebbles

a rusty pinecone and a pink hairclip

 

the misty grey racing in from the sea

is not like concrete, it’s like hairspray

 

there is a gull flying over me high

squawking, squawking, squawking

as if to say hello and good morning

unless they squawk and squawk

even when the beach is empty

 

 

 

Here is the draft I have done. I will look at it again next week to see if I am happy with it. Let me know what you think.

 

The Grey Day

 

Out of the day glazed with grey

there’s a black rooster with a red comb

a horse with a pale blue coat

 

On the sand, a piece of orange rind

a yellow ball that will never bounce

footprints like stitching across the wet sand

 

Two walkers dressed like black rocks

black rocks dressed like walkers in raincoats

purple jellyfish opening like Japanese fans

bluebottles that look like blue pebbles

a rusty pinecone and a pink hairclip

 

The misty grey races in from the sea

and it’s not like concrete, it’s like hairspray

 

There’s a gull flying over me high

squawking, squawking, squawking

as if to say ‘hello’ and ‘good morning,’

unless she squawks and squawks

even when the beach is empty

 

 

Italia è bella! and the I-was-a-truck story

I have always loved other languages.

When I was at Secondary School I studied Latin for two years and I especially loved finding out about Pompeii the city that was buried under ash. I have been to Pompeii now and it is an astonishing place to visit. I also studied French, but also only for two years.

When I left school I went to night school to study te reo Māori for awhile. I loved the sound of it, and it really connected with growing up in Northland (as I did).

Much much later (I went and lived in London for a long time) I went to The University of Auckland and I studied French (again for two years),  and I spent so MANY years studying Italian I am scared to write down how long (twelve years?). I did a Doctorate in Italian and that took me ages! I loved learning a language so that I could talk to people and read books in that language. Like Māori it is a language that sounds good. It is like poetry, I reckon.

Now when I  visit other countries that don’t speak English I always take a phrase book so I can say things in the other language. It is fun and it helps you meet the locals.

A funny story: You always make mistakes. When I was first learning Italian I had to sit an oral exam and I was asked to tell a story about when I was little. I decided to tell everyone that I was the champion sack racer in my school from Year 3. Nobody could beat me however old they were because I had a cunning technique. I would put my toes in the corners of the sack so I never fell over (everyone else did) and I ran like a rocket! But instead of saying champion (campione) I said truck (camion). So I was saying when I was at school I was a truck. I was the best truck in the school. I was really good at being a truck and nobody could beat me. When I realised later I was so embarrassed!

Last year I went back to night school to learn te reo Māori. That is the one language that I want to keep learning. I have a long way to go.

Here is a poem I wrote using some Italian words. You might be able to guess what some mean and some you will know. At the end of the line you will discover the names of Italian towns and cities.

 

Italy

I drove my apple-red macchina in Italia

I ate cheesy panini in Roma

 

I ate stretchy pizza in Napoli

I swam at the icy spiaggia in Rimini

 

I took a swish swash gondola in Venezia

I climbed the leaning Torre di Pisa

 

I ate strawberry gelato in Milano

And I got lost in car-tooting Turino

 

Italia è bella!

 

 

 

 

My bird-poem diary: This morning when I went to the beach I saw the strangest bird

This morning when I went to the beach I saw the strangest bird. I didn’t expect to see this when I started my bird-poem diary.

 

The Strangest Bird

Blue and yellow feathers that shine like metal

Silver plume on its head that spins in the wind

Clumpy feet that squat on the sand and the grass

This is the noisiest bird I have seen at the beach

and when I hear it coming I duck for cover.

It’s a working bird, it’s a searching bird

it’s a filming bird, it’s a helicopter bird.

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