The Sydney Writers’ Festival – Take That! And That!


Yesterday, the boss gave me the morning off to go to a poetry workshop at the Sydney Writers’ Festival (she’s good like that ;-)).

It’s the first time I’ve attended a poetry class and, well, it was quite an experience. Run by a well-known Australian poet who’s received several poetry awards, both national and international, it had its good and bad moments.

The prep notes for the workshop suggested that we bring along a poem to share. I chose something brief because I hate reading my poems out loud – some poems are meant to be performed: others are not. And no poems are meant to be performed by me.

So the bad moment came when, against my better judgement, I read Ghosts of Christmas Past aloud, and it continued downhill from there: WKAP remarked, “You have a good poetic sensibility, but…” and then proceeded to kill not only all my darlings but the entire point of the poem with his feedback:

  • antiquated word – don’t use it” (but I chose it specifically for its Biblical flavour)
  • too many syllables in ‘ing’ verbs – needs something shorter”  (but the ‘ing’ verb is meant to evoke the perpetuity of  suffering)
  • “I think you should get rid of ‘fickle’. The sentence is too long – it needs some backburning, haha.” (you’re a riot)
  • clichéd” (ouch)
  • overused” (ooof)
  • If Katy Perry’s done it, don’t do it.” (Ooooh, now that’s a low blow – who are you? Joan Rivers from ‘Poetry Police’?!)
  • Why did you use ‘ashen’? Isn’t that every tree’s fate” (Oh, don’t be stupid!)

And so on…

hmmmpf

I guess he didn’t care for it much. 😀

Of course, the bottom line is that if you don’t want honest feedback from experts, you shouldn’t subject yourself to their scrutiny. But taste in poetry is like taste in food, music, wine and lovers – subjective. And after he was done with his on-the-fly edits to mould my poem into something he thought might work better, it no longer worked for me.

I did, nevertheless, thoroughly enjoy most of the workshop and gained some very valuable insights into poetic structure and form and, particularly, the effective use of line breaks. WKAP is unquestionably a masterful poet and rather good at articulating what a poem is and isn’t, but by the end I felt a little like this:

However, the TKO effect didn’t last for long (us bees are made of stronger stuff ;-)), and the prospect of dinner and a movie (Wish You Were Here) with a good friend, as well as attending  some neuroscience talks at the festival in the coming days lightened my mood somewhat.

Oh, and I’m attending another poetry workshop on Saturday – perhaps I should add a double-shot of Bundy to my early morning coffee. 😉

Don Ritchie – R.I.P.

Don Ritchie, The Angel of The Gap, has passed away

Repost

Angel of The Gap

He looks out at the sparkling sea

and drinks his morning cup of tea

But there’s a shadow to his left,

the darkness of a soul distressed

He knows now he must move with haste

to stop a life from going to waste

“This time, this one, perhaps,” he thinks,

“maybe, I ‘ll pull back from the brink”

The Angel of  The Gap, at dawn,

heads out once more across his lawn

to offer balm, a light to see

a way out from their misery,

to coax them not to end it all

and save them from that fatal fall

http://www.smh.com.au/action/externalEmbeddedPlayer?id=d-1yoat

Never be afraid to speak to those who you feel are in need.

Always remember the power of the simple smile, a helping hand, a listening ear and a kind word.”

Don Ritchie, OAM

Chewing on this

I read this wonderful post of Kate Shrewsday’s
before going to sleep last night and it got me thinking (they always do)
of

Six impossible things before breakfast

A world without the power of money,
a sun-powered world

Journeys across a borderless globe,
Inter-universe journeys

Born old, growing young,
Spinal cords
growing in a window box

——-xx——-

Impossible possibilities? What are your thoughts? 😀

To Kill a Nerve… By Any Means (without support crew, Charley Boorman!)

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I had a bit of a planes, trains and automobiles day yesterday, and trams…oh yes, and crutches…

At the end of November, I suddenly developed pain from a rather nasty pathology in my left foot, known as Morton’s neuroma (MN). And then, at the end of January, I developed the same thing in my right foot, although with far less intensity and pain – (but with an exponential increase in anxiety).

For anyone, let alone an active person, this is a debilitating condition which can literally stop you in your tracks. I stopped walking the golf course and, shortly thereafter, playing golf, altogether. I stopped jogging, taking my afternoon walks and, ultimately, any non-essential walking. I couldn’t walk barefoot painfree and I stopped wearing closed shoes for the same reason. I took to wearing Birkenstocks (and am now a lifetime convert – yes, Cin, I know it’s a style travesty…) and Orthaheel thongs (slops, slip-slops, flip-flops) because these were the only shoes I could walk in at all.

Anyone who has received expert help from the medical profession for MN knows it does not go away of its own accord and if left untreated it only gets worse over time. The surgery is invasive (they cut out the damaged nerve), has a long recovery period, no guaranteed outcomes and often has lingering adverse effects. Chris Freeland’s blog post on MN is the best anecdotal resource I have come across, if you are interested in reading more about people’s personal experience of the surgery and recovery (if you are, read the comments as well). [June 2013 – Chris’s blog has been deregistered]

I won’t bore you with the details of all the research I did and my convoluted path to find a practitioner of a promising, minimally invasive, non-surgical treatment for MN, known as Radiofrequency Denervation (thermoneurolysis), in Australia, but can tell you that it’s available in Melbourne and Cairns, but does not appear to be available anywhere in Sydney.And none of the medical practitioners I saw here mentioned it, and when I asked them about it, only one of them–the orthapaedic surgeon–actually knew about it, so I asked him to refer me to Imaging @ Olympic Park (IOP) in Melbourne. And, so, because I live in Sydney, I have travelled twice to Melbourne over the last seven weeks to have the treatment at IOP, first on the left foot and yesterday, on the right.

And my outcomes so far? Other than a numb foot for 24 hours, after the first treatment, I was back on my feet straight away to the same level as just before the procedure and then 5 weeks later, after the inital healing process, was back playing golf and walking the golf course, but in wider shoes and custom-made full-length orthotics. And I will need to take a golf break again now while the treatment I had yesterday settles down, but overall am very happy with how things are progressing.

One person’s outcomes will almost certainly differ from another’s to some degree and each person will have their own level of expectation as to what constitutes a successful outcome, but if you live in Australia, have been diagnosed with this condition by a podiatrist or orthopaedic surgeon and want to find out more about RFD treatment before opting for surgery, you can contact Imaging @ Olympic Park – they will be more than happy to answer your questions. 😀

———–

Update – 9th October 2012

I have no neuroma pain 6 months after RFD treatment, walk the golf course every time I play and am back to doing my long walks on the weekend. Very glad I did not have the surgery.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Journey

I’ve used a couple of these snaps on other posts
and the poem is a repost from earlier on this blog
but they all epitomize this week’s theme for me

🙂

Travelling Dog

Travelling Dogs

On the 600km journey –

she looks at flowers and clouds,
he computes mileage per litre,
she ponders the secrets of cows,
he remarks that it might storm later…

She sees the wire-pig mailbox,
he spies a snake on the road,
he surveys flood-plain paddocks,
she wonders if cows talk in code…

He thinks perhaps ‘Box of Frogs’,
she’d prefer peace for a while,
both laugh at the travelling dogs,
their windblown ears and their smiles

Travelling Dog

Travelling Dog

The Song Remains the Same

We were cigar-smoking sylphs,
we were angst-ridden waifs,
not quite role-model material
We were The Clash and The Cure,
Lena-Lovich demure,
but never Nirvana funereal

We were Flashdance and Fame,
we were Grease, Purple Rain,
not Dolly-sweet 9 to 5vers
We were Wham, All That Jazz,
Chorus Line razzmatazz,
Saturday Night Fever survivors

We were pathological humour,
the kohl-girls of rumour,
but never drug-addled chic
We were Dark Side of the Moon
and Kate Bush la lune,
living The Dreaming mystique

We were polka-dot punkers,
Spandau Ballerinas,
not tattooed suicide-grunge,
Twisted Sister crazies,
You were Thelma, I, Louise

But,
in the end,
only you
took that plunge

Weekly Photo Challenge: Through

the
shadow and light
of life

through
another’s eyes

makes us see anew
and
the heart and mind
inspires

—-

A tour through light and shadow

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Art
from
the Art Gallery of NSW,  Sydney
and
the Metropolitan Museum of Art,  NYC

Act of God

Across this hopscotch land

strange days stretch out to sea,

where ancient forests stood,

now ails a lone pine tree,

spared from an Act of God,

not so children as they flee –

they are turned to ghosts

by what god, pray tell me?

The Bird


The bird
doesn’t mind

the indifference
of passing feet,
tossed flint-eyed scraps,
nest of a broadsheet

The bird
doesn’t mind
cold-hearted weather,
garbage-can dining,
piss-soaked shelter,
one-eyed sleep in the underpass,
the ubiquitous predator

The bird
doesn’t
 mind
existence
on the streets

He’s just a bird

Weekly Photo Challenge: Self-Portrait

They say

we know
who we are
in adulthood –

sister,
not brother
,
wife,
not mother  –

a prosaic mosaic,
fragments of a self

but don’t ask me
to complete the picture –

time has lost
more than a few pieces

Wild Conspiracies

I wrote this in September for Gabrielle Bryden’s National Poetry Week Challenge.

For more animal-flavoured poetry check out Gabrielle Bryden’s Penguin Week series.

***

I ask scribbly gum moths:
Why this graffiti on trees?
“Mind your own business,
they’re just doodles, if you please”

I ask a plodding snail:
Why the squiggles on the path?
“There ain’t nothing in it –
I just do it for a laugh”

I ask the sly hyena:
Why the tunnels ‘neath the trail?
“Well! Installation art’s
not only for the snail!”

I ask the bower bird:
Why that hoard of shining bling?
“Oh, poppet, it’s no mystery
objets d’art are my thing”

I ask the primping zebra:
What’s with the barcode?
“Poor darling, don’t you know?
Stripes are back in vogue”

But, you know, I don’t believe them –
It’s a vast conspiracy
It’s clear that they are sending
secret messages to me…

***