Wednesday, 1 October 2014

What a busy few months...

I've had my first taste of taking workshops in Queensland and met some wonderful audiences and teachers.

Here is a lovely face from Toowoomba and the wonderful library.
Hello Anne!

 I also took two weeks of poetry workshops at Sydney Boys' grammar and had the delightful experience of my verse novel 'Ratwhiskers and Me' set on the goldfields chosen as a term read for year 5 boys.

Li, the lovely librarian stacking the books ready for distribution to the boys.  Wonder what they thought of the novel?

In between travels and a massive workload of writing strategies for new workshops, I lost my father.
But was so glad I took a plane back to be with my mother and family at dad's bedside.

Here is a poem I wrote a few years ago, remembering the hard work my father did on our little poultry farm.  It was read out by one of my son's at Dad's funeral.

A Drink

On an afternoon when
the concrete path
burned our bare feet,
we hobbled along
on shade shoes,
past the limpness
of the gum trees,
past the long sizzle
of the chook pens
where dust corded
the heat into visible

We carried a beaker
of lime cordial
to the bottom fence
or to the sheds
where ever our father worked.

 The promise of thirst slaked and abated
sang in the tinkling music of ice,
in the slithers of cold
that didn't melt.

We presented the drink
to our father, but the blisters
of sweat needed more
than one beaker full
to begin the translation
of hot, to warm, to cool.

Thanks was all the breeze
we craved as we scampered
back the way we came.

(c) Lorraine Marwood

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