Notes from the Slushpile: National Poetry Day

Saturday, 6 October 2012

No To No Rhyme

To live in a world where there is no rhyme
Would seem to me to be a crime
And surely children need this skill
To prevent them all becoming ill
From: sums and science, laws and rules
Boredom, bedtime, some of school.
To have no rhyme would be a curse,
That's why we have the funEverse!

Friday, 5 October 2012

Rhymes From The funEverse

By Maureen lynas

Say hi to more funEverse poets

I'm so lucky to be working with these people. They're funny, they're talented, and they care deeply about kids and want to make them laugh.

And where else would I have discussions on whether it's appropriate to have a character trapped in a sumo wrestler's bum crack! (That was not one of my poems!)

Introducing:

Rebecca Colby

I blame Dr. Seuss for my love of rhyme. When I was six years old, I checked ‘The Lorax’ out of the library and became lost in its magical, sing-song rhyme. I loved it! Not wanting to give it back, I promptly hid it under my bed, hoping my mother wouldn’t find it. She didn’t. Not for months anyway, by which time she must have paid for it several times over in library fines.

I also blame Robert Frost, although the story there isn’t half as interesting. He wrote poems I could relate to—poems that brought the rural environment of my childhood in New Hampshire to life in verse.

It has taken me years to learn how to rhyme well—and some might argue that I still haven’t achieved that ability. One of my attempts follows:

ON RHYMING

I love to write in rhyming text,

although sometimes I get perplexed

when my iambic metered lines

all end in slant, imperfect rhymes.

And counting syllables to excess

can cause unnecessary stress,

so sometimes I don’t worry about rhyme or meter at all and I just go with the flow!

©Rebecca Colby 2012

Lesley Moss

Why poetry? Why not?

I like playing with words. I had early publication success with a poem
about a cat and a rat, and would like to repeat the experience.

For me, a poem is words condensed, like a tin of milk. Distilled, like rose water. Intense as vanilla extract .. you see where I’m going with

this ..

EATING MY WORDS
Pick summer words from the Poet Tree,
some for you and some for me,
ripe and juicy, shrivelled and thin,
cut right through to the essence within.
Words with vinegar, words with butter,
words to make a cold heart flutter,
pickled, dried or baked in pies -
each word explodes with fresh surprise.
Words to whet the appetite,
words with zest and words with bite.
Pick summer words from the Poet Tree:
store for winter’s memory.

©Lesley Moss 2012