PARADIDDLE POEMS

A paradiddle is a pattern in drumming. If 'L' denotes the left hand and 'R' the right, a paraddidle goes: RLRRLRLL. You can watch a top drummer performing them and talking about them here.

A thought occurred to me the other day: the sticking pattern of the paradiddle could equally apply to poetry. In other words, you can write a 'paradiddle' poem with the rhyme scheme ABAABABB. Here is my attempt at a paradiddle poem. If any readers want to have a go at writing a paradiddle poem, I'd be delighted to post them up on this blog page (poems will be posted below the image of Dave Grohl attacking his drum kit).

Paradiddle

Can you hear the echoes growing?

Can you hear each pounding beat?

Can you hear the tension flowing

as excitement’s fist starts throwing

punches? Can you feel the heat?

Can you hear alarm bells going

as the monsters prowl for meat?

Music! Music! What a treat. 

Storm by John Foster

Wild winds blow

Trees thrash

Torrents grow

Rivers overflow

Lightning’s flash

Thunder’s bellow

Boom and crash

Storm’s smash.

PHENOMENAL POEM BY ONE OF MY STUDENTS

Last week I had the pleasure of leading a workshop with teenagers, on behalf of NASACRE - the National Association of Standing Advisory Councils on Religious Education. The aim of the workshop was to use poetry to explore the theme of 'religious bullying'. I am proud and honoured to be able to share the following wonderful poem, produced by Anjumia from Azhar Academy in London, during the workshop:

Poem by Anjumia

My problem is not what comes out of your mouth,
Not the lies you live by.
I am not bother by your perception of me,
Because I am worth more than this body you are quick to judge.
This outfit, my figure is a distorted shadow,
I have two countries growing within me.
I wear my religion like a halo around my head,
I glow like a firefly and blood flushes and brings life to my skin.
Your skin is dry – you cannot get to what you cannot touch in me
You cannot make me echo grief that I do not share with you,
This body is my temple, and I have birds singing off key within me.
I didn’t ask you to sing along,
Sing with me, or don’t sing at all,
Love me, or don’t love me at all.
But do not shout your bullet words at me as I walk away,
I am everything that has tried to silence me,
Bullets that I have caught between my teeth.
I have a dragon growing under my tongue,
A Phoenix in my heart.
Do not tell me I am not beautiful, your definition of beauty is sugar coated in lies,
I know this with all the cracks you’ve made in me, you have only brought more light into me.
Because I am worth more than this body you are quick to judge.

WHERE I WRITE POEMS

On the train,

at the shops,

standing in a queue;

in the shower,

on the sofa,

sitting on the loo.

In the car,

in the woods,

walking down the path;

at the library,

in a deckchair,

chilling in the bath.

On the bus,

in a field,

lazing on the lawn;

in the kitchen,

in the basement,

in my bed, at dawn.

In the sunshine,

in the rain,

at the swimming pool;

in a treehouse,

on the beach

and even (shhh!) at school.

ICKY STICKY CHOCCY BICCY

Icky Sticky
Choccy Biccy
On my fingers
In my hair

Icky Sticky
Choccy Biccy
On the table
On the chair

Icky Sticky
Choccy Biccy
On my clothes
And in my shoes

Icky Sticky
Choccy Biccy
Some for me
And some for you!

WATCHING CARTOONS

Howdy. It has been a while since I've posted a blog. Life events have a habit of intervening, you see. Anyway, I'm pleased to be posting my first blog post for a couple of months. It's a new poem, based on a thought I remember having as a kid. I loved watching television, and I distinctly remember thinking that it doesn't matter how old I get, I'll never stop watching cartoons. (As a teenager I had the same thought regarding ska punk.) This poem is based on that. Enjoy!

Cartoons

One day I’ll grow up

and I’ll have to live life.

I might finish school

and I might find a wife.

It might happen later,

it might happen soon

but one thing’s for sure:

I’ll keep watching cartoons.

I might ditch my trainers

and wear a smart suit.

I might get a job

where I have to commute.

I might be a spaceman

and fly to the moon

but don’t be in doubt:

I’ll keep watching cartoons.

I might be a doctor,

curing disease.

I might be a lumberjack,

hacking down trees.

I might be a zookeeper

taming baboons

but never you fear:

I’ll keep watching cartoons.

My hair might turn grey

and my joints might go creaky.

My mind might go blank

and my bladder go leaky.

I might lose my teeth

and eat mush with a spoon

but as I expire

I’ll be watching cartoons.

With the WOWS!

and the POWS!

and the ZAPS!

and the ZOOMS!

no I’ll never stop watching cartoons!

Bath Kids Literature Festival - Exciting News!

I am excited to announce that I will be appearing, in all my glory, at the Bath Kids Literature Festival on Tuesday 3rd Oct.

As well as appearing at the festival, I am also excited to report that Bath’s Young Poet Laureate, Polly Denny has devised a self-guided trail through the city, hitting all the haunts and places, significant to writers and poets who in some way changed the course of English literature. Those taking part will be able to access a map of the route online.

Polly wants to draw attention to the importance of Bath in our literature, the greatness it has produced and inspired over the centuries.

The trail will end at The Jane Austen centre, and those that can prove they completed it by showing a photo of themselves at each location will be entitled to 10% off anything in the centre including the tea rooms!

Dates: beginning on 28th September, National Poetry Day and continuing through the Children’s Literature Festival 29/09 – 08/10

Suitable for children accompanied by adults, for individuals, couples and groups

Do please spread the word!

GUEST POEM BY BOB SCHECHTER

A couple of years ago I devised a new poetic form, called 'The Big Boss'. It is very simple, and so far I have written and published a number of poems using this specification. Here are the rules for writing a Big Boss poem:

• 4 stanzas, 7 lines in each stanza
• 4 syllables in the first six lines of each stanza, and 6 syllables in the final line
• rhyme scheme is ABCBDBE, FGHGIGE, JKLKMKE, NOPOQOE

I am delighted to announce that renowned American poet Bob Schechter recently got in touch with me to say that, following my lead, he has written a Big Boss poem. I am therefore delighted to share his wonderful poem on my blog (and please do check out Bobs' website - www.bobschechter.com):

INSIDE

The sun may shine,

the breeze may blow,

the birds may sing,

the trees may grow,

the sky is blue

for all I know.

Who cares? I stay inside.

I have my toys,

I have my phone,

I'm here within

my bedroom zone.

Though others hate

to be alone,

who cares? I stay inside.

Outside the door

my puppy calls:

Why waste the day

inside of walls?

He wants to play

with sticks and balls.

Who cares? I stay inside.

But then I get

a text from you!

I'm in the park!

Can you come, too?

I'd planned to stay

inside, it's true.

Who cares? I race outside!