Alas, I had to make an abrupt exit from the celebrations when our road flooded, so I’ve very glad the competition ran smoothly. I’m just disappointed I wasn’t there to enjoy it!

<pre>

Australia Day 2012

The day was blissfully
noticably
silent –
an echo of
earlier years before the
road became a thoroughfare
and trees buzzed with
traffic.

In the afternoon
we went to check
the flood waters;
A 200m section of road
still submerged;
still water.   .. 

The 4x4s and the foolhardy were starting
to cross.
We watched a Landcruiser
wade in, closely followed by
a small red car.

The  ‘Cruiser burbled towards us
pushing a wall of water in front.

Slowly and surely the two vehicles
rose out of the water,
attached by a snatch strap.

On dry road, the ‘Cruiser stopped.

Bump. BANG. Crash. Clang.

The little red car stopped.

Stillness.

Silence.

Doors opened.

Did you just drive into the back of me? You idiot!

Two Aussie blokes,
boys really,
met in the middle
with Tooheys in hand
and inspected the union
of 4×4 and
little red car;
wedged as one,
towball to grill,
snatch strap
redundant.

It was hilarious!

Apparently.

<pre>

And yesterday…

baffled
by waves on inland
waterways;
boat crests wake
behind
4×4

.

Word of advice:  Don’t cross flooded roads.

In both these instances, not only did drivers place themselves at risk by driving through road closures, but just 5km down the road they encountered deeper wider floods. Mate, if the locals are telling you to turn around and go back… GO BACK!

.

Myringoplasty

Wake-up 5am…
Departure 6am…

Day Surgery Admissions 7:30am:
Not thinking
watching TV
tennis
news
will
write
a
poem
soon ….. 

Nurse:  Which ear are we operating on?
Left.

Toilet 8am:
Where do I tie these strings?
Do I put these over my shoes?
Stockings!
We didn’t have a long wait…

Cubicle 8:30am:
could sleep
feel sick
so hungry
my shoe things keep falling off
wish I could see
could watch –
I hope he videos it!
those shoe things fell off again.

Orderly:  Which ear are we operating on?
Left

ummmm…
I don’t know what I was going to say
really getting hungry now
half an hour longer and I’ll feel it

still waiting…
I’ve been waiting here for ages.
I hope they don’t forget

Orderly:  We’ve got one up here, don’t forget.

Oh good. They didn’t forget.

I really hope he videos it.
I want to see.

It’d be really funny if I waited
so long and eventually
I went to find the doctor and they
come back in and
the bed’s empty.
Argh!

We’ve been waiting here for ages.
Can you please open the curtain –
just slightly. I want them
to see me.
Don’t want them to forget me.
Is anyone coming?
Oh man!
Everyone who came in after me
has already gone.
Hope they haven’t forgotten me
Are you sure they haven’t forgotten me?
I think it’s me! … I hope.

Cubicle (still) 9:30am:
Ask them if they’ve forgotten me.
Orderly: We’d never forget you.
Doctor just reshuffled his list.
It shouldn’t be long now…

Outside theatre 10:00am:
It’s fun when they push you –
just lie back.

Price is probably going up
just sitting here.

Theatre Noises:  Cough. Splutter. Gag. Gasp.
*eyes boggle*  Nasty! Glad you’re knocked out.
Splutter. Gag. Gasp. Retch.
*shudders*

Still haven’t put my heart monitors on.
Spend the whole time waiting for them.

Anaesthetist:  Now, which side are we operating on?
Left

I’m rolling over so they don’t have to flip me.
so they know
which side.

LEFT!

Mum:  Do you want me to write on
the other ear? {Not this ear} Yes?
No. They’ll probably see writing
and think that’s the one to do!
Mum:  Maybe, {STOP! Not this ear.} Yes?
*Grins* No.

Doctor: Now, which ear am I operating on?
Left
I’ll get my pen and mark which ear.
<-HB

*relaxes*

In theatre 10:15am
Doctor:  What are you doing still awake.
Mum:  I say that every night!
Doctor:  Did you see my new Zeiss lens?
Anaesthetist:  Just a little prick now.

*judders violently*
*blinks*
*slow blinks*
*sleeps* …

Anaesthetist: Okay Mum. You can leave now.

</pre>

Later that night, my son wrote;

blood whooshes
as I hear the pulse
of healing

My Epigram:

An ear for music humours the heart
but hear me and heed me – don’t laugh at art!

.

For those of you who aren’t familiar with the story – my son artistically ruptured his left ear drum in a random accident with a paintbrush, during art class last year. The hole 1/3 the size of his eardrum didn’t repair itself, so a skin graft was necessary – along with an inspection of the tiny hearing bones. We are hopeful that the skin graft will repair the eardrum and restore full hearing… Thankfully the bones checked out okay!

I asked my friend Di Esmond for some pointers. Which she gladly gave in her own inimitable style. You can read Di’s simple sonnet tips on the Month of Poetry blog.

I wasted a day on my first attempt. Tried three different sonnets, on suitably learned topics. Failed. Crushing defeat. Rising frustration. Those five strong beats were a syncopated constipated curse! I quit.

At which point, my anger and frustration bubbled over… (Oops…) and resulted in Sonnet: Finito.  ….. 

Sonnet: Finito

Sonnet! Away you evil, vile thing!
Your syncopated rhythm drives me NUTS
so go! No ifs or maybes and no buts…
Be gone! No satisfaction do you bring.

If venerable poets like the Bard
could scribble sonnets neither weak or pallid
then why – when I can write a rhyming ballad –
do I write a sonnet marred and deeply scarred.

Rue the wretched resolution made
before I even knew what I resolved.
Quit. And I am instantly absolved…
Persist and you must all try to dissuade.

But wait! The end is nigh. This sonnet writ;
a travesty of poetry and wit.

Funny. My laments inspired Karen Collum to write the fiercely passionate sonnet  A Mother’s Love.

My sonnet headache had only just subsided (two days later) when Megan Bickel wrote a stunner sonnet. To me, it ticked all the boxes – beautifully. Scroll down to the comments on Di’s Simple Sonnet post and you can read it for yourself. Then Penni Russon wrote an exquisite Kinglake Sonnet – not in the iambic pentameter rhythm, and I must confess that I find this four-strong-beats style much easier to read and write (!!!) since my lines naturally fell on four or six strong iambs. Then Catherine Johnson used the sonnet format to tell of excitement in her street…

At which point I decided to try again and write a sonnet that wasn’t a lament about a sonnet! In fact, I wanted it to wrangle an emotive issue dear to my heart. And I wanted to conquer that iambic pentameter. Once I got through the obligatory three failed attempts, (to write a sonnet, you must first fail three times and quit – and then…) Sonnet: Money Hungry flowed quite easily – in its syncopated, shuffle-footed style. The last two lines took more work – but I think they stand strong, now.

Sonnet: Money Hungry

Conviction cuts me to the core again –
that we should have so much – and much to waste
while round the globe the millions know not when
they’ll stay starvation with the blandest taste.

The table of the world is bountiful;
no need for any one to go without,
yet bloated bellies feel the wretched pull
of hunger pangs in countries cursed by drought.

Clean water in abundance, we abuse,
to run a river gushing down our drains,
while others labour, precious drops to lose,
never knowing cleansing flush of quenching rains.

It doesn’t take a millionare to care;
in truth, we all have much – and much to share.

I still can’t say I love the form. In fact, I’m even more convinced that I don’t speak or write in pentameters – even IF the many webpages I consulted inferred it was a natural pattern of speech. But I do feel that I have, at last, written a sonnet. And since it was such a struggle to do it, I feel quite… motherly-proud of the finished product. Besides – it ponders a message that is close to my heart.

It doesn’t take a millionaire to care. There are many ways that we can all positively impact on those who suffer much and have so little. Even children can have the joy of making a difference.

These are some organisations that I have loved – but there are many, many more.

World Vision:  Through World Vision we sponsored Dagouma until he was withdrawn from the program.

Compassion:  Through Compassion we sponsor Iragena. It is a joy to know that her life is enriched because of us.

Operation Christmas Child: Children love filling shoeboxes with gifts for children in need around the globe. Fantastic opportunity for schools and parents to foster kindness and empathy, while empowering young children, who love to give!

TEAR Australia:  Giving gifts that give again. You buy a gift to go to a struggling family in the name of your friend or family member. I then also like to give a related gift to the family member – like a chicken ornament or stuffed toy if I’m choosing the ‘give two chickens’ option. Or pen/notebook if giving school supplies. This makes it tangible for your family member, and the family in need.

Turn on the Tap: For safe, accessible water in the developing world.

It doesn’t take a millionare to care;
in truth, we all have much – and much to share.

After my quiet months of no writing in 2011, I’m finding a deeper level of creativity during the #MoP. I’m writing in new ways, and liking it.

#MoP12 poems are posted to locked pages on the Month of Poetry blog, and there is a great community of sharing and discussion each day, which I find inspirational and informative. (Love it!) Remembering past #MoP friends – and the promise of more this month – inspired this poem on Day One;

I Remember You

I remember you;
the way you
weave words on paper,
play emotions
with phrases and pausing,
your voice echoing
through line breaks,
imagery and stark
haunting words.

I remember you;
breathing life
and form into poetry
so that when I read
no credit is needed –
the words whisper
your name
and take the shape
of you.

This is how it is with #MoP. Learning to recognise participants by their individual way with words. Six days in and it’s already exceeded expectations.

In 2011 I experienced the ebb and flow of writing in a different way, with extended family health dramas taking all head and heart space for 6months. When I first heard the word ‘cancer’ I resolved to let my writing go, for unlimited time, to invest in family and fighting this dread disease. There would be no stress on my part if there was no time for writing or submitting. In fact, any writing would be a bonus.

October was a major turning point, with a dramatic increase in tension following a complicated medical procedure, slowly falling away to relief… and hope.  Doctors were confident of a cure, and mid November we began mending bodies, hearts, and minds raw with emotions and prolonged stress.

On the day our loved one was released from hospital, the words that had been locked away, flowed onto paper – a tribute poem to the medical staff who healed with hands and hearts. Though the last week in hospital had seen continual milestones on the road to recovery, it was that moment of release that triggered the words I hadn’t even realised were locked away.

For another three weeks we quietly relished relief of healing and hope, while juggling the busy life of two lads and their many and varied activities. No words. No headspace to compose them. Just healing time…

My week usually involves long drives along relatively quiet, country roads.  On the times when I do these alone, I think. I appreciate the opportunity to ponder and pray, plot and plan. When life was stressful, my head was a mangled tangle of thoughts that clenched and bunched my brain. Even when I wasn’t consciously thinking, I was thinking. But as the stress was released, I was able to drive mindlessly, not thinking, not doing, just passing from A to B. Towards the end of November, I realized I was starting to roll words and ideas around in my head. Phrases and rhymes. Alliterations.  On one particular drive, with lots of roadworks stops along the way, I penned an Aussie Christmas Carol - singing it into my memory until the next stop-&-go man gave me opportunity to write.

From that point on, I noticed that during drive-time, my creative mind came out to play. Characters appeared and cavorted around. Plots simmered potential. I longed for time to write and started rolling words around and around in my head so I didn’t forget them, jotting phrases and ideas into notebooks for later development. A number of picture books started to tell their tales…

With the release of school holidays, I started work on a picture book that got bogged down twelve months earlier. A PB that had a beginning. And a little bit of plot. But no real development. A PB that had been shelved in the bottom drawer of my computer long before the dreaded ‘c’ word touched our family. It was a rhyming picture book, requiring equal attention to rhythm, rhyme and story, and it had proved a complication to write! After the tumultuous year, I wondered if this tangled story was the wrong WIP to tackle… but it beckoned, I took a peek… and started to play.

It took a week to wrangle the words, but what an exciting week that was. Words tumbled around in my head, bouncing off ideas and moving my story along. Many times I thought the story was finished – only to write it better. Each tweak and edit tightening and polishing until every word earnt its place.

After six months of ebb, the words flowed into a jaunty rural rhyming story with a touch of drama, and quirky humour. A story that excites me. A story I’ve been waiting 3 years to write. (And written many others in the meantime.) A story I couldn’t write… that now flowed with relative ease.

So often we are told as writers that we should write every day. But in reality, writing is something we balance with life, and every day doesn’t necessarily have time in it for writing. Sometimes days go by. Weeks. Even months. But the words don’t disappear. Your focus shifts. The letters and words are consumed by life. But they aren’t gone. The passion doesn’t die!

The words will flow again. Crisper, clearer and sparkling with promise. Refreshed. There is beauty in the ebb and flow of writing.

We’ll be singing singing Gifts to the King at our  Carols by Candelight service this year, and you’re welcome to download the PDF or JPG version if you’d like to include it at yours.

Download PDF version – Gifts to the King

'This is the Mud!' - as read by Justine on ABC Play School.

For the month of December I’m offering 20% off  ‘This is the Mud!’, when bought through katswhiskers.weebly.com.  

Simply click across to katswhiskers.weebly.com, fill out the contact form as per the prompts, pay via secure PayPal service (after notification), and I’ll send your signed copies of ‘This is the Mud!’ direct to you.

It’s that easy!

• Dramatised ‘This is the Mud!’ (Prep/Yr1)
• Wrote shape poems (Yr2/3)
• Wrote haiku (Yr4/5)
• And performed poetry (Yr6/7)

Dramatising 'This is the Mud!'

Who knew I could pull a face like that?

George Yr 5

deep water
still and calm
the trees looking at themselves

.

Mackenzie Yr 4

tall trees
still water
reflect the sky

Wearing different poetry personas.

Shaping a cat poem.

I get a real buzz out of author visits – and that’s the truth! Sharing a passion for words and story with children and seeing them catch the excitement, is a joyful inspiration. I’ve got to say, though, those St John’s students were exceptionally well behaved, with wonderful, informed contributions to the discussions, and beautiful creativity. A pleasure to work with.

Today I made an accidental discovery as my fingers dawdled across the track pad…

It is possible to get the MacBook Pro’s OS X Lion equivalent to Show Desktop. 

I’ve googled this a number of times, to no success. I’m not saying others haven’t posted how-to tutorials, I just know that I haven’t found them or followed them accurately, because I certainly haven’t ever done what I did today.

For all those other frustrated Mac users, (Yes, I am being cheeky, so please don’t be offended. ) here’s how I show Desktop using Mac Lion…

Step One. Three-finger sweep up the trackpad.

Step Two:  Hover your cursoron the top right of the screen to show a Desktop thumbnail. Click on the thumbnail.

Step Three:  Voilà! Click on your new Desktop icon and you can indeed show your desktop.

Each time you do a three-finger swipe up the trackpad you will now have the option of Dashboard, Desktop1, or Desktop2. Or you can do a three-finger sideways swipe while on an active desktop, and flick between Dashboard, Desktop1, and Desktop2.

You can even add multiple desktops by following the same process. Who knew?

I’m thinking you could perhaps create different desktops for different applications, to save cluttering your desktop. (Since I usually have about 20 open documents/applications, this may simplify a lot of clutter!) It could be good to have one desktop with my current WIPs open as Word documents, and one desktop for email and internet, maybe even one for photos…

Suddenly the options are seemingly endless.

Moment of truth… Did you know? Or have I just saved your sanity?

We put paint onto foam letters and matched them to the letters on our sheets and then had another look at ‘This is the Mud’ book, at the mess the diggers and tractors made in the mud. We drove some small tractors and diggers into our ‘mud’ and then drove all over our paper with it.

This is the mess that they made in the MUD!

We all had a great time and learnt something about rhyming words and really enjoyed the book.

Joanne Henderson, Prep Teacher