Rosemary Nissen-Wade: Aussie poet and teacher of metaphysics – a personal view
My bestie nicknamed me SnakyPoet on her blog, and I liked it. (It began as
'the poet of the serpentine Northern Rivers' and became more and more abbreviated.)

Thursday, June 02, 2016


Migrated from LiveJournal / Dreamwidth

Crisis over, I think. You must have all prayed hard!

At the new blog, Project 365+1, I decided not to be all serious and formal but to say hello to the others there and talk about the quadrille form I used for my first post. There were warm responses from nice folks I'd never heard of, either as Old Mates or Intimidating Reputations. I liked their poems too, and said so. Suddenly it feels like a friendly place after all.

Wednesday, June 01, 2016

Playing with the Big Kids

Migrated from LiveJournal / Dreamwidth

I've been invited to be a guest poet for the month of June at a blog of Aussie poets and artists, posting daily drafts. There's a core of regulars, and sundry guests. The idea, I'm told, is to keep up the habit of writing, and for potential discussion. They don't have to be first drafts, just not published elsewhere. But personal blogs and private groups are OK.

I accepted of course, flattered. The regulars are pretty serious names in Ozpoetry. Some of them are old mates, so that's OK. Others are distant, intimidating figures. Well, I expect they'd be surprised to be considered intimidating, but I feel intimidated. Trying to write my first poem tonight (having decided it's most practical to write them the night before they're due) I went into writer's block!

Usually I am prolific. Usually I am playful about writing poetry. I respond to prompts from various groups, and have little trouble writing a poem a day, though it's usually only three or four a week. And I write outside the prompts at times too, from that other thing called inspiration. How come I suddenly dried up?

It must be that famous 'Now they'll find me out' syndrome.  Who do I think I am, playing with the big kids? This regardless of the fact that I play with superb poets all the time.  Ah, but the ones I am about to play with have Reputations. And they have them in my country. And they had them when I was just starting to make a name for myself.

But I said I would do it, so I have to. I did a lot of Tapping tonight (no, not on keyboard; I mean a technique for quickly dispelling unwanted emotions). I was able to write a poem at last, after discarding several atrocious false starts. It's not world-shaking but it's respectable enough.

I have to shake off this paralysing fear! 'Respectable' is not a word that I think should be applied to poems! I'd rather write wild, zany, outrageous things.

Pray for my soul!