Poetry

Today I’m suggesting you try an acrostic. Here are a few examples.

Acrostics – a poem where the first letter of each line spells a word when read downwards.

Cuddly Acrobatic Tenacious and terrifying Softly purring …………………………………

I love every flavor. Cookies & Cream. English Toffee. …………………………………

Chocolate Chip. Rocky Road. Even Strawberry and Almond Fudge. Mmmmmmmm. …………………………………

This one is a double acrostic spelling Stroud at both ends of the lines.

S et among hills in the midst of five valley S,

T his peaceful little   market town we inhabi T

R efuses (vociferously!) to be a conforme R.

O nce home of the cloth it gave its name t O,

U phill and down again its streets lead yo U.

D espite its faults it leaves us all charme D.

Your Turn

Choose a word or words from the below for your acrostic or use your own.

You can also use a person’s name or a place name – perhaps somewhere you had a holiday or have spent days out.

Suggested words

Strange times                    Discomfort            Feelings                            Liverpool

Happy days                        Summer               Spring                                Hope

Seaside                               Cycling

Don’t worry about trying to make a ‘finished’ poem.

Whatever you write will be right.

Try to think of it as playing with words. Playing is never serious

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Hello! This week I’ve been inspired by a few things – the changes we’re having to adjust to at the moment, by a poem written by one of your peers and by Roger McGough’s poem The Lost Lost Property Office. So to start us off, here’s Roger McGough – which I hope will inspire you to have a go at writing your own list poem.

The Lost Lost-Property Office by Roger McGough

‘On buses and trains you wouldn’t believe The crazy things that passengers leave:

A pair of crutches, I kid you not, Hot-waterbottle, full but no longer hot

A bouncy castle deflating slowly Glove discarded by a one-armed goalie

Pink chiffon tutu for a large ballerina A can of worms and a concertina

A ventriloquist’s dummy with nothing to say An Egyptian mummy all dusty and grey

A scaffolder asleep in a Spider-Man suit the tangled remains of a failed parachute

A Viking helmet and a broken lance A pair of elephant’s underpants

A file with Top Secret stamped in red (Inside a card, April Fool it said)

An Alpine horn and a didgeridoo A signed photo of Winnie-the-Pooh

A shot-putter’s shot and a pole vaulter’s pole Two Yorkshire puddings and a toad-in-the-hole

Headphones and hearing aids by the score A mountain of mobiles and a lavatory door.

A bucket of toenails and a wooden plank Two air-to-air missiles and a Russian tank

Lost any of these? Bad news I’m afraid, The Lost-Property Office has been mislaid.’

Here’s a video of me talking about inspiration and reading the poem I wrote this week.

I’ve written it in rhyming couplets, which just means pairs of lines which rhyme. Sometimes I have couplets that don’t rhyme exactly but enough to sound like a rhyme – this is called near rhyme. And I’ve used repetition for emphasis and alliteration which means using similar sounds next to or near each other.

Things I Don’t Wish to Lose on the 82 Bus by Tracy Aston Things I don’t wish to lose on the 82 Bus include my handmade knitted duck billed platypus that photo of us from way back when the double yolked eggs from my free range hen in a sea of black this precious pearl our home and irreplaceable natural world walks along the shell speckled coast blackberry jam on hot buttered toast the smell of rain on a scorched summer night snowdrops promising spring’s delights the sound of laughter from the swings the dream I might one day grow wings the sight the sound the smell of the sea beachcombed souvenired memories forget me nots my woollen bed socks the smile on my face for the good things in the human race my chatty mate Bob who’s never meek he’s the blue green parrot I’ve just got to Speke and comical cussing Great Uncle Gus still alive and kicking on my 82 bus.

And finally, something to lift your spirits. Maya Angelou – And Still I Rise.

If you’d like to send us one of your poems to include here on the blog, please send it to: psswellbeingcentres@gmail.com.

We'd love to hear from you!

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Hello! I’m delighted to say we’ve received some poetry! I’ve included it below but here it is read out by me in the video aong with the theme for this week.

Thanks again to Chris jackson, Gail Richardson and Susan Marsh for sending in your poems.

Sun shining but can’t go out The virus rules our lives Upbeat Blog comes to the rescue Caring as ever Keeping in touch Isolation will be bearable with New ideas each day from the Blog.

…………………………………………..

Love this city It’s people and places Views over the Mersey Each with a memory Recalling trips on the ferry Princes, Sefton and Calderstones, Otterspool and Newsham parks Our playgrounds of childhood Linking us to Liverpool for ever.

Chris Jackson

…………………………………………..

Cheering each other on

Over

New

Networks

Especially in these

Challenging

Times

Incredible inspiring

Open hearts

Never end

Gail Richardson

…………………………………………..

Tomorrow I might make

One everlasting

Memory showing

One

Remarkable happening

Right

Outside my

Window……..or maybe I won’t

…………………………………………..

Tracy

Really tries

Ard to show she

Cares for

You!

…………………………………………..

Staying safe used to mean

Taking hold of someone’s hand

And being led to safety

Yet today we are told it’s

Important we don’t touch

Not even to be lead to safety

Giving plenty of space

Staying apart as a result

Absence will make the heart grow fonder

For when we can

Embrace again safely

…………………………………………..

Tracy mentioned swings in her 82 bus poem and it brought back a memory for me it just exploded in my head so I wrote some words down to try to explain it. Here goes

Soaring through the air, higher and higher

Feet pointed, body leaning back

Hands gripping cold metal chains

Lurching forward, hair billowing

Legs bent back

Falling sensations in the pit of my belly

Feet pointing, body leaning back

If I reached out I would touch the clouds

But, I grip tight cold metal chains

Body lurching forward, hair billowing

Legs bent back

So exhilarating playing on the swings

Susan Marsh

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This week’s theme is sound. Here’s Roger McGough with The Sound Collector.

The Sound Collector

A stranger called this morning Dressed all in black and grey Put every sound into a bag And carried them away

The whistling of the kettle The turning of the lock The purring of the kitten The ticking of the clock

The popping of the toaster The crunching of the flakes When you spread the marmalade The scraping noise it makes

The hissing of the frying pan The ticking of the grill The bubbling of the bathtub As it starts to fill

The drumming of the raindrops On the windowpane When you do the washing-up The gurgle of the drain

The crying of the baby The squeaking of the chair The swishing of the curtain The creaking of the stair

A stranger called this morning He didn’t leave his name Left us only silence Life will never be the same

From All the Best – The Selected Poems of Roger McGough.

…………………………………………..

Here’s a lovely poem about sound from a dog’s point of view.

What The Dog Perhaps Hears by Lisel MuellerIf an inaudible whistle

blown between our lips

can send him home to us,

then silence is perhaps

the sound of spiders breathing

and roots mining the earth;

it may be asparagus heaving,

headfirst, into the light

and the long brown sound

of cracked cups, when it happens.

We would like to ask the dog

if there is a continuous whir

because the child in the house

keeps growing, if the snake

really stretches full length

without a click and the sun

breaks through clouds without

a decibel of effort,

whether in autumn, when the trees

dry up their wells, there isn’t a shudder

too high for us to hear.What is it like up there

above the shut-off level

of our simple ears?

For us there was no birth cry,

the newborn bird is suddenly here,

the egg broken, the nest alive,

and we heard nothing when the world changed……………………………………………Is it very quiet where you live? With less traffic and people being outside less, it feels like an old fashioned Sunday to me. Here’s my poem on this week’s theme and inspired by Roger McGough’s poem. I’ve followed the same rhyme scheme where the second and fourth lines rhyme in each verse.

Old Fashioned Sunday by Tracy Aston

An old fashioned Sunday

appeared with the dawn

so calm and quiet

but for the mowing of a lawn.Not a car was heard

not a shop was open

a few sparrows had a scrap

but words weren’t harshly spoken.A whisper of breeze

in the uncommon hush

spoke of uncommon change

to a gossip of bees in a blossoming bush.

The sky looked bemused adding to the tales of change in the world and the lack of contrails

while nature looked on human kind saw how we’re stilled, illed and stressed and reassured the natural world that in time we’ll see we’re blessed

with wonders found outside the race when we come to redefine what it means to find success and old fashioned Sundays feel just fine.

…………………………………………..

We’d love to hear from you so if you’d like to send in a poem on the theme of sound or any other poem you’ve written, please send them to: psswellbeingcentres@gmail.com

Here are two short films of Roger McGpough talking about poetry.

Roger McGough – Why is poetry important?

How do you go about writing your poetry?