So Adelaide’s Writers’ Week has been and gone but not without plenty of book-buying, meeting poets and attending the odd session here and there. The first was ‘Searching for Sylvia Plath’ facilitated by the fabulous Felicity Plunkett.

With around 10 biographies about Plath already, why do we need another? Well at a 1,000 pages, this appears to be the definitive one. Written by Heather Clarke over 12 years, Red Comet covers every aspect of Plath’s life, from when she began writing her first poems at 5, through repeated medical trauma and self-medication to her somewhat fraught relationship with Ted Hughes, its a culmination of endless hours in the Plath archives trawling through her journals, letters and photographs. It’s only since her untimely death that Plath has been recognised for the trailblazer she was, a professional writer with a strong work ethic who immersed herself in a world of words, including these rather profound ones when feeding back on the work of her mother’s friend:

Let the wind blow in more roughly.

The next session I went to was ‘Poetry in the Age of Absolutely Everything’ with UK Poet Laureate Simon Armitage, again in conversation with Felicity.

Appointed in May 2019, Simon talked about how the role of Poet Laureate changed after the death of Ted Hughes to more of a working role spanning 10 years rather than a lifetime, establishing the Laurel Prize for eco and nature writing during his. Simon shared entertaining stories from his 256 mile Walking Home project in 2010, which involved walking the Pennines the wrong way giving readings and surviving on whatever was given by his audience, as well as some of the poems he wrote, often with rhyme and rhythm synonymous with a purposeful trek. Simon also held the Oxford Professor of Poetry for four years, publishing a collection of essays during his time to explore how this form takes new directions down old roads, with some debating:

poetry’s constant anxiety about its own existence.

In between these sessions, I joined award-winning author Ellen van Neerven‘s ‘Desire in Poetry’ Masterclass, which examined the different ways this can be expressed through example poems, insightful discussion and a series of writing prompts. And of course, Writers’ Week isn’t complete without a visit to the book tent where I bought a few somethings to keep me going.

There have been a couple of Canadian publications I’ve been trying to get into for a while and it just so happens both accepted a poem of mine within a month of each other. Coincidence or luck? Perhaps a bit of both.

Juniper is an online poetry journal based in Toronto, publishing three issues a year since 2017 and edited by Lisa Young. I find much of the work has a haunting quality about it, with a focus on place and connection, and it’s here I discovered the stunning poetry of Ayehsa Chatterjee and Lorna Crozier, both Canadian with several collections between them. My poem, ‘Earth turn‘, is in the current issue alongside many fine others and interestingly required little editing.

Arc Poetry Magazine has been running for a number of years with its 100th issue up next, which will celebrate previous work through the curation of new in the form of ekphrasis. Publishing a diverse variety of poetry and art, it’s an eclectic read and my poem, ‘Weathering’, responds to a piece by Winnie Truong, a Toronto-based artist who renders exquisite work. This will be my first published ekphrastic poem, so I’m excited it’s appearing in such a prestigious magazine.

And then of course there’s Margaret Atwood with her extensive repertoire, whose latest collection Dearly I’ve yet to read, but whose outlook on life and work I find fascinating having listened to many of her interviews and readings. Anne Carson and Rupi Kaur are also Canadian, but whose work I’m currently unfamiliar with.

Visiting Canada is on my to do list. With its spectacular landscape, perhaps it’s easy to see why there’s a plethora of brilliance flowing from there.

at The Wheaty Wednesday night was epic featuring a stellar line up – Bronwyn Lovell, Alison Flett and Dominic Symes – who helped launch each other’s new collection.

First up was Bronwyn whose work I’ve long admired and her collection, In Bed with Animals from Recent Work Press, is possibly one of the best debuts I’ve ever read.

Bronwyn is a novelist and science fiction scholar as well as a poet, and her work has been shortlisted for some big poetry prizes, including the Dorothy Hewett Award. These poems speak of one woman’s experience of gender discrimination in an ecofeminist voice, calling attention to the exploitation of the environment and animals too. ‘Bitching’ is a fine example, in which Bronwyn draws comparisons between herself and her beloved dog Carmela, both in terms of treatment and temperament:

We domestic animals are still wildly

frightened. If a man mauls me,

they will look for the predator’s DNA

carved in crescents under my claws.

from ‘Bitching’ in In Bed With Animals by Bronwyn Lovell

Alison followed next with her captivating collection Where We Are published by Cordite Books, evocative of home wherever that may be.

Originally hailing from Scotland, Alison travels back to her roots in these raw, visceral poems of longing and belonging, of here and there, conjuring memories along the way interspersed with the delectable Scottish dialect. Alison’s poetry is simply brilliant and I was so pleased to see her infamous fox poems in this collection, (which form a chapbook by themselves published by her own imprint Little Windows Press), a symbol of this fleeting life that shines with her brilliance:

the rain runs in rivers

through its red-black fur

and the pavements are thick

with its foxy scent

and the rain rises

to meet it as it runs

and the pavements run

with rivers of its redness

from ‘Semiosphere’ in Where We Are by Alison Flett

Last but by no means last was Dom reading from I Saw The Best Memes Of My Generation also from Recent Works Press and with a title that sticks.

Dom founded the monthly No Wave poetry readings to try and fill the gap left by the Lee Marvin ones, brain-child of Ken Bolton who is another fine Adelaide-based poet, both of which I’ve had the honour of reading at. Dom’s work is both tender and funny, can make you laugh out loud or nod in rapt agreement, and he had a clever technique; letting the audience choose which poem he shared, that cheered for a Cher poem louder than a Prince one:

I’ve been instructed by The Guardian –

which I pay for now

after being guilted by that widget which kept telling me how

many free articles I’d read & which I’ll admit

feels kind of like paying a bully at school to stop you from

getting beat up (I believe that is called a ‘racket’)

– to feminise the cannon

from ‘Queering the Cannon’ in I Saw The Best Memes Of My Generation by Dominic Symes

Adelaide has a thriving poetry scene, much of which buzzed in the room that night, and with this being the final No Wave coupled with the heartfelt words shared, emotions were high. And it was a festive celebration too, with Alison supplying delicious home-baked treats and party hats, each with a line from a poem and it’s author on the back. Everyone was invited to select one that speaks to them; this was mine:

And the days are not full enough

And the nights are not full enough

And life slips by like a field mouse

Not shaking the grass.

from ‘And the days are not full enough’ by Erza Pound

So if you’re looking for stocking fillers, buy these books. Brimming with confessions, heartbreak and wit, they will not disappoint because their appeal extends beyond poetry. It reaches you.

Poems are like homing pigeons. You send them off and more often than not they come back. But sometimes they don’t because they’ve found a new home.

Image courtesy of ovocontrol.com

As a poet, I know much about perseverance and how one person’s trash can be another one’s treasure. So when I heard my next manuscript had been shortlisted for this year’s James Tate International Poetry Prize, I was absolutely thrilled! When I heard it was one of the winners, beyond thrilled!! I had submitted this collection, albeit in different iterations, nearly a dozen times to publishers and competitions.

SurVision Books is Ireland-based with a focus on surrealist poetry and a biannual online magazine of the same. My poems are about climate change from a fantastical perspective and editors Tony Kitt and Anatoly Kurdryavitsky felt they were a good fit. While I’m deeply indebted to Ginninderra Press for publishing my previous collections, I am excited to see what my new publisher brings.

Never give up I say.

was the title of the workshop I presented yesterday as guest poet at Gawler Poets @ the Pub.

Image courtesy of Gawler Poets @ the Pub

Held at the Prince Albert Hotel, this groups meets on the last Sunday of every month where a poet is invited to give a workshop in the morning then have the first slot at the afternoon readings.

With my recent collection about breast cancer, selecting the topic was easy; finding relevant examples and devising the structure took a little more time. And I thoroughly enjoyed not only preparing the workshop but also presenting it, and the participants did too, taking away with them poems to develop, writing prompts and further reading/listening.

After lunch was the five-word challenge where I chose random words from Venus for poets to draft something using for me to judge. The winner got a bottle of wine. I then read a couple of poems from each of my collections giving context where relevant, followed by members of the group sharing their work. The day flew by.

So given the time I spent researching and developing the workshop, I will explore more opportunities to present it because it’s something we can all relate to, having a body, and whether we like it or not is a whole other workshop…

I’ve just finished another online course hosted by the Poetry SchoolAccidental Love Poems with David Tait.

Image courtesy of The Poetry School

Founded in 1997 by poets Jane Duran, Mimi Khalvati and Pascale Petit, the Poetry School is a plethora of all things poetry and the UK’s largest provider of poetry education. It offers a variety of courses of differing lengths and levels, with a new program published each term. I opt for the international courses using its online platform CAMPUS, as there’s no live chat allowing me to write and feed back on work at a time to suit before each deadline.

David is a British-born poet working as a teacher in China and I’ve completed a previous course by him that focused on cities. The prompts have been wonderful and inspired some incredible work, and I’m rather happy with my own batch of poems produced. Before this I did Writing Emotion with Rebecca Tamás and next term I’ve signed up for Elena Karina Byrne‘s Ekphrasis, Art and Translation.

What I love about these courses is discovering new poets, not just through fellow students, but through the assignments and reading set, plus feedback is invaluable, both honing your skills providing it and applying it to your work. And of course they drive you to write! So if you haven’t already, check out the Poetry School, if only to explore the variety of resources and information available.

Writing about experience is extremely cathartic, removing the noise in the head, expressing what never makes it into conversation, and so being a poet it was only natural for me to write about my breast cancer journey, which thanks to Ginninderra Press, forms a chapbook of poems called Venus.

Starting with diagnosis, it charts the path I took – five months of chemotherapy, a mastectomy, six weeks of radiotherapy every day – and still take with daily anti-hormones and a six-monthly bone drug infusion. The outcome was a new me, an alive me, with a different perspective and sense of purpose. (The image on the front by the way, is the pattern from what became my chemo pants, which I’d planned to ceremoniously burn at the end of active treatment, but they’re extremely comfortable!).

I follow in the footsteps of many fine poets who’ve also written about their own experiences – Jo Shapcott’s Of Mutability and Sharon Black’s To Know Bedrock whose launch I attended in London in 2011, plus a fascinating collaboration between Irish poets in Bosom Pals, to name a few. With one in eight women diagnosed with the disease, it’s a common condition with voice.

I’ve given copies to my doctor, specialist and oncologist as I’m keen for it to reach other women embarking on the same journey as a source of comfort, a source of you can do this.

Anniversary

A year ago today my world was smashed
by a man in a suit and wire-rimmed glasses.
His voice was small and grew smaller.

Over the next nine months I lost my aversion
to needles and swallowing tablets
found I preferred my hair short.

So I take my husband out to dinner
like some macabre anniversary
because I feel the need to mark this path

from a place that howled to one made of bricks
where I savour the simplest things –
the sharpness of orange juice in the morning

how fast I can cycle with the wind behind me
watching the sun slip into the sea.

from Venus, Ginninderra Press 2022

Port Adelaide hosted its inaugural writers’ festival this weekend themed ‘Living Landscapes‘ in the historic Hart Mill Precinct, with an impressive line up and books courtesy of Matilda Bookshop.

Living Landscape Writers’ Festival Day One Program

Hosted in conjunction with Writers SA, the program comprised talks and readings examining our relationship with the environment and the role it plays in art, followed by a series of workshops to learn the craft of nature writing. The venue was perfect, set beside the beautiful Port River, home to a variety of life, including dolphins.

I attended the afternoon sessions, the first a panel discussion on ‘Writing the Changing Landscape’ with Ali Cobby Eckermann, Inga Simpson and Jill Jones, facilitated by Writers SA Director, Jessica Alice. It was fascinating to learn about their connection with country, the living world around them and how they capture and express this in their work, often giving voice to the damage we’re doing. Ali spoke about healthy moments and how childhood homes become unrecognisable. Inga grew up on a farm and sought solitude to develop her work. Jill shared examples of mindful suburban walking without distraction. There was talk of the creature’s we’re responsible for, how nature is giving us the solutions and a request for us to be curious again. But the most profound words for me were these when discussing those in power:

Just because you have the money, doesn’t mean you hold the riches.

Ali Cobby Eckermann
Molly Munro and Hannah Kent

The next session was a conversation between Molly Munro and Hannah Kent exploring ‘Nature as Character’. Molly echoed attendance to country and explained how Kangaroo Island, the setting for her latest work, is the last spiritual stopping place for indigenous cultures in South Australia. Hannah referred to the ‘livingness of things’ and shared her intimate connection with the landscape of Iceland where her first novel was set. Both stressed the importance of place in their work, how it must be more than a backdrop to a story to engage not just their readers, but themselves too. They also shared writers who have influenced their writing and that’s one of many things I love about these events, the reading recommendations you leave with, where you discover new writers and work, thought and theory.

I had booked Rachael Mead’s workshop – ‘Writing the Landscape anew through Poetry’ – today, but a deadline snuck up on me so unfortunately I had to cancel. Yesterday was a memorable afternoon, which left me deeply thoughtful, reminding me again how glad I am that I grew up when I did, with a childhood outside exploring nature, back when seasons were sure of themselves.

April’s already here and I haven’t blogged or published, but I have been writing. One of my monthly poetry groups has resurrected itself, albeit online, and I’m near completion of another Poetry School course called Writing Emotion: Contemporary Confessional Poetry.

image courtesy of The Poetry School

Facilitated by Rebecca Tamás, author of the poetry collection WITCH, a blend of feminist exploration and occult expression published by Penned in the Margins, this course invites us to give breath and bone to some difficult stuff, to give it a voice. Over five fortnightly assignments and reading the likes of Sylvia Plath, Sharon Olds and Warsan Shire, we are challenged to tackle experiences and feelings through the safety of prompts, such as masks, spells and play. The emphasis, however, is on an outward view; to share intimacies the reader can connect with and relate to, so they experience our emotion as their own.

It’s not surprising that with recent events, the poems I’ve produced reference the invasion of Ukraine and climate change (both wars involving humankind and no winners), one of which was my first specular, a challenge in itself, but a satisfying one. I have been surprised though with where the prompts have taken me, for example, what starts off as a poem about the man in the moon morphs into something else entirely, weaving in elements from my past I thought I’d tidied, which is the power of confessional poetry I guess, catharsis at its best.

Not Very Quiet (NVQ) launched their anthology Thursday evening, edited by the journal’s founders Moya Pacey and Sandra Renew, and published by Recent Work Press.

Poems were selected from eight issues of the twice-yearly online journal and I was thrilled to have one of mine included, thrilled even more when asked to read it at the launch. This is a powerful collection of women’s poetry from across the world, giving voice to pertinent issues – same-sex marriage, the #MeToo movement, the global pandemic and devastating bush fires to name a few – and sharing fascinating insights into what it means to be human.

Past guest editors – Anita Patel, Tricia Dearborn, Lisa Brockwell, Anne Casey, K A Nelson – also read their work, aswell as Moya and Sandra. Each issue of the journal invited submissions to respond to a provocation. My poem appeared in the first issue, which called for reflections on Gloria Steinem’s Women’s March Speech, reprinted below:

The camel and the straw

When there’s nothing left to say you eat
knock back the red wine you ordered
begin the cigars I hate.

My mouth is full with all that you said
and I’m too damned polite to do the napkin thing
spit out the one line I can’t swallow.

So I smile
no teeth
while inside I pack up and leave you.

(First published in Not Very Quiet; Issue 1, September 2017)

The anthology celebrates the end of NVQ’s publication, leaving the space open for others to continue to address gender bias in poetry publishing because in the words of Gloria Steinem, “women must act.”

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