I’ve been tidying up my blogs recently and thought that I’d include my poetry writing tips on this one.
If you write in rhyme and meter and you’re interested in a few tips click here and enjoy.
Tip 4 is especially useful as it lists what publishers have to say about writing in rhyme.
Email me for an entry form…
Enter as many times as you like – $5 per entry
Out through my window, I joyfully see
My friend and my neighbor, the old Birchwood tree.
Though his presence is constant, he’s never the same,
To purchase Brian’s book just click the cover.
To notice his changes is my secret game.
Like the way that he flinches when rain hits his leaves,
And how his long branches sashay in the breeze.
Some changes take longer – whole seasons to track,
As he changes through pinks, greens, and yellows; and back.
I’m amazed at the changes he makes every day,
Without even moving one micron away.
I wonder what changes my Birchwood can see,
As he looks in my window and gazes at me!
Joe Mohr’s Poems
Maggie made a tigeraffe
Whose neck and claws were long.
Joey made a birdle,
A turtle with a song.
Maria drew a coyokeet,
A parakeet that howled.
Mikey built a twinkipede
While his stomach growled.
Norm designed a hippadee,
A hippo that could fly.
Marsha made an applefish
That smelled like apple pie.
Johnny made a catfish
Not knowing they existed.
Bernie drew a Venus Guy Trap
(Bernie’s really twisted).
I devised an animal
With a shiny golden horn,
Part Amazonian Manatee
And part unicorn.
And though I liked each creature’s,
Unique designs and deeds,
I think a little uni-tee
Is what this wide world needs.
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Ron Taylor is an optimist,
he’s bought a field of snow.
And now he’s hoping for a crop
of frozen peas to grow.
The Three Little Kittens were known for their mittens,
while Puss looked quite spiffy in boots.
There once was a cat recognized by his hat.
There are probably some that wear suits.
So why should it be, that my cat scratches me
every time that I help her to dress?
If she’d wear what I pick, she would look oh so slick,
each outfit a major success.
Last night brought more dramas. When offered pajamas
she put up a fight on my bed.
She spat and she hissed when I tried to insist,
then out of the bedroom she fled.
I like how the lamp
takes a peek at my book.
If I hold it just right
we can both get a look.
Night is outside dripping
ink on the walk.
Inside my book, shady
characters talk.
Here comes a cat. He’s
unusually smug.
He turns around once,
blends into the rug.
I read him a sentence.
He scowls with one eye.
I won’t read him another.
Let sleeping cats lie.
.
.
When Grandma’s at home, sipping tea from her mug
And she feels all alone, by the fire, on the rug
And she desperately pines for a cuddly hug
Do you know what she does?
She calls me.
Cause when Grandma’s alone and in need of a hug
Then she picks up the phone that is next to her mug
And she says, ‘come around for a cuddly hug.’
And do you know what I do?
I say yes.
And I get on my bike and I pedal like mad
Cause there’s nothing quite like a hug that you’ve had
From a cuddly Grandma who’s lonely or sad
And that’s we do.
What do you do?
.
When little children go to sleep
All their toys begin to creep
Out of the toy box, out of the beds
Leaving children nodding their heads.
.
Out in the moonlight, out in the night
Teddies and pandas. A magical sight!
A monkey, a dragon, a zebra, a duck.
A cute cuddly cat and even a truck.
.
When children are sleeping, their toys are away
Out in the starlight as bright as day.
There’s a tiger, a rabbit, a doll dressed in blue
A dinosaur, soldier, and a brown kangaroo.
.
They’re dancing and laughing, it really is fun
For toys to have parties when daylight is done.
But come the new morning when the sun start to rise
Tired but happy, the toys rub their eyes.
.
Then softly, so softly on silent small toes
Homeward and homeward each little toy goes.
Back to the toy box, or back to the bed
To snuggle up close to a child’s sleepy head.
My feet are great, they’re just first-rate,
each one a match with its sole mate.
One left, one right, to take me places,
dance and jump and run fast races.
I’ve ten fine toes that like to twitch,
And they can reach to scratch knee itch.
When I stand tall on tippy toe—
Don’t need to wait until I grow.
The cake tin is within my reach
And then I scarper to the beach
To leap the waves that lap the shore.
I kick, sand-flick then race some more.
If every car and bus broke down
It wouldn’t stop me getting round,
For I’d still get from here to there,
My feet would take me everywhere.
This is the story of Saylah Anne Weyer.
Her Mom is a nurse and her Dad is a Flier.
Her brothers are Pirates. Her sister will share.
Her Grandma shampoos away all her gray hair.
Saylah Anne Weyer
While visiting Grandma’s house one summer day,
Saylah turned on the hose and then squirted away.
She squirted the flowers, the berries and dirt.
She squirted her feet, then her legs and her shirt.
She squirted the fence, then the sidewalk and toys.
She squirted the neighbors: first girls, and then boys.
She squirted at birds that were high in a tree.
Then Grandma said, “Saylah, don’t try squirting me.”
“Don’t worry,” said Saylah. “I’ll do this instead.”
She squirted her grandfather right in the head.
Her Mom started laughing at Papa’s wet hair.
Then Grandma fell giggling right out of her chair.
Her brothers were rolling all over the place.
And people were roaring at Papa’s drenched face.
But Saylah Anne Weyer did not laugh and shout
for Papa got mad and gave her a time-out.
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People say I’m growing but why can’t I feel me grow?
If people didn’t tell me then I really wouldn’t know.
I always feel the same size, though they buy me bigger clothes,
And they tell me that my head is getting further from my toes.
People say I’m growing. They say, ‘Look how big you’ve got!’
But I just cannot see it, so I tell them, ‘I have not!’
They tell me I look like my dad when he was very young,
Which is lucky ‘cause I wouldn’t if I had a different one.
People say I’m growing but I do not think it’s true,
For surely I’d remember every time I went and grew.
I wore a hat all day today to see if it got higher,
But it didn’t so I know that they are liars, liars, liars!
People say I’m growing and I think I might agree,
For today it is my birthday and I’m now a grown up three.
Perhaps I’m really growing, but I cannot say for sure,
So I’ll have another look next year when I am great big four.
What delicacy
are you planning for tea?
I must say I’m feeling quite famished.
Fried brains with a sliver
of kidney and liver?
How funny! My appetite’s vanished.
At the muzzaloo store, there are crates of persnoobles,
Fresh-baked flobitzen and tazbees with jubles.
They’re stocking the shelves with the best alaprises,
Ungden and traffadoo (three different sizes!).
High on the shelf you’ll find melezoid dinkles,
The nice, silky, smooth kind without any wrinkles.
Jars filled with tomashes, wazzenloft, too.
Boxes of mooglehorns, yellow and blue.
Right down aisle 7, is where they keep japers —
Stacked, and wrapped neatly in pink tissue papers —
Mozenar, trums, castanoovas and more;
You’ll find all of this at the muzzaloo store!
The letter A is awesome!
It simply is the best.
Without an A, you could not get
an A+ on a test.
You’d never see an acrobat
or eat an apple pie.
You couldn’t be an astronaut
or kiss your aunt goodbye.
An antelope would not exist.
An ape would be unknown.
You’d never hear a person
say “Afraid” or “All Alone”.
The A’s in avocado
would completely disappear
and certain words would be forgot
Published in The School Magazine (Australia)
like “ankle”, “arm”, and “ear”.
Without the A, you couldn’t aim
an arrow in the air.
You wouldn’t ask for apricots
or almonds at a fair.
Aruba and Australia
would be missing from a map.
You’d never use an ATM,
an apron, or an app.
The arctic fox and aardvark
would be absent from the zoo,
and vowels, as you know them,
would be E, I, O, and U.
There wouldn’t be an A chord
on the instruments you play.
Let’s appreciate, admire,
and applaud the letter A!
I was…
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angry as a roaring lion,
angry as a swooping bat,
angry as a squawking parrot,
angry as a screeching cat,
angry as a hissing viper,
angry as a hopping frog,
angry as a big gorilla,
angry as a charging hog,
angry as a howler monkey,
angry as a barking mutt;
Yes I very, VERY angry
when they said the zoo
was shut.
.
Can you jump, can you leap,
Can you shimmy and jiggle?
Skip around corners
Or wobble and wiggle?
Can you swing, can you swoop,
Can you soar through the sky?
Flitter and skitter
Or flutter and fly?
Can you stomp, can you stamp,
Can you slither and slide?
Squirm like a worm
Or hover and glide?
Can you step, can you stride,
Can you tumble and twirl?
Spin like a whirlwind
Or swagger and swirl?
Can you flip, can you flap,
Can you do a forward roll?
Jump rope, ski a slope
Or shoot for goal?
I can!
Listen
The rain goes plink on the wagon
…………….plonk on your head
……………………..plunk on the dirt
It goes slip off the petal tip
………….slap against the window pane
……………………………sloop down the gutter
It goes splish in the bird bat
…………….splash in the wading pool
……………………………sploosh in the fish pond
Don’t you love storm concerts?
Mister Emu
I see you
Ostrich-lik
Gray and white
Three-foot throat
A periscope?
Bamboo legs
Football eggs
Flightless wings
(Soft-feathered things)
Fast as a bunny
You’re curious, funny
Mister Emu
I see you—
You’re a clown!
Do you like to hide?
Sometimes I hide so well
I cannot even find myself –
and then I have to YELL!
On quiet days
When you are still
And listen with your heart
You can hear
A hush of sounds
And tell them all apart.
You can hear
In early fall
The echo of the owl’s call.
You can hear
Up in the trees
The whisper of the autumn breeze.
You can hear
Out in the dark
The endless plea of puppy’s bark.
You can hear
The distant train
Racing through the evening rain.
You can hear
Down by the shore
The thunder of the ocean roar.
You can hear
When passing by
The lonely seagull’s hungry cry.
You can hear
When winter blows
The silence of the falling snow.
You can hear
A hush of sounds
And tell them all apart
On quiet days
When you are still
And listen with your heart.
I’m lying in bed
with lumps and with bumps
I think I have mumps
the doctor said sadly
you do
still Grandma would read to me
sit on my bed
but
today she complained
of a pain in the head
now Granda has lumps and bumps too.
I’ll gather silver cobwebs
with soft mosses for my nest,
and keep my chicks all safe at night
hugged in my feathered breast
I’ll spend all hours hunting
caterpillars in the leaves
to answer every peep
and open beak all saying please
I ‘ll show them how to preen
when they start feathering,
teach them pride in who they are
so they’ll know how to sing
I’ll help them try their wings,
climb the air and learn to fly,
so one day the wind will take them,
to be free as song and sky.
One Minute Till Bedtime is now available in the US wherever books are sold, including:
It is also available for purchase now in Australia:
In the UK, it will be available on December 8, 2016:
I’m thrilled to announce the release of my newest book, One Minute Till Bedtime. This is the first anthology that I have put together, and it has already received starred reviews from Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, and School Library Journal, plus it has been selected by Publishers Weekly as a Best Book of 2016.
One Minute Till Bedtime contains over 140 brand-new poems from more than 130 poets from around the world, including such luminaries as Jack Prelutsky, Jane Yolen, Jon Scieszka, Joyce Sidman, Judith Viorst, Lemony Snicket,Marilyn Singer, Nikki Grimes, and many, many others. Each of the poems in this collection–all perfect for bedtime–can be read in about a minute. With seven sections, each with roughly twenty poems, One Minute Till Bedtime holds a full week of 20-minute sleepytime readings.
The beautiful hardcover book is whimsically illustrated by the incomparable Christoph Niemann, whose witty, minimalist drawings compliment and enhance the poems, giving readers even more to ponder as they get ready to dream.
One Minute Till Bedtime is now available in the US wherever books are sold, including:
It is also available for purchase now in Australia:
In the UK, it will be available on December 8, 2016:
Today, as I uploaded some more poems to the page the bottom drawer (under Jackie’s poetry) I thought it might be fun to see if any children’s illustrators might like to have a go at illustrating any of the poems.
I’m not able to offer any money but if I choose your illustration I would be happy to promote you in any way that I can.
Here’s something that might be of interest to you. Since having the poem If I Were a Giant published by Oxford University Press in India I have been getting hundreds of views to this blog from India, especially to my poetry pages. This has been such a pleasant surprise.
So I thought it might be nice if I had some illustrations to go along with them.
If you are interested in this idea all you need to do is choose a poem or poems and send me a jpeg of a simple black and white illustration.
If I get more than one illustration for each poem I will upload a gallery. I will also send updates via facebook, twitter and PASS IT ON.
I really hope that I get some interest in this proposal – who knows where it might lead 🙂
Looking forward to hearing from you.
The Impossible BBQ – Highly Commended
Gran is out from Cornwall and we’ve planned an Aussie treat
The great Australian BBQ with eskies full of meat
Steaks and chops and sausages and don’t forget, of course
The most important condiment, the Heinz tomato sauce
Gran’s not used to seeing all our wide and open spaces
Cornwall’s rather cramped and squashed and damp in many places
She’s never had a BBQ, she sits on picnic rugs
And lunches in lush meadows far from flies and other bugs
She wanders through the copses picking bluebells by the bunch
She won’t find bluebells growing here or saffron cake to munch
We’re going on a BBQ an outback expedition
We want Gran to experience an Australian tradition
The car is packed and so are we, our quest has now begun
And soon the dust is dancing as we head towards the sun
The air conditioner’s broken and we’re sweating salty beads
We try to think some cooling thoughts but none of us succeeds
We drive on corrugated tracks that shake us to the core
Gran complains to Dad because her bottom’s getting sore
“Nearly there,” is Dad’s reply, “it’s just around the corner.”
But Dad at times exaggerates and I wonder, should warn her?
Four more corners and then a case of minor dehydration
We pull into a roadside stop our barbie destination.
The outlook’s rather limited it’s blocked off by the loo
But Dad’s too busy rummaging to care about the view
We all climb out to stretch our legs; the heat is like a slap
A lonesome Gum provides some shade as Dad unfolds his map
“We’re here,” he grins and stabs a finger, gnarled and tanned and plump
“Beyond which lies,” he points and winks, the infamous Black Stump
A shiver, quivers through us all, although the sun’s severe
We hope that nothing untoward will happen to us here
Gran is looking miserable she’s moaning and she’s mumbling
But then I realise, that instead, it’s all our tummies rumbling
“We’re starving Dad, let’s cook the food before we fade away,”
We all pitch in to gather sticks while Dad collects the tray
The one he won on Friday night, a raffle at the pub
Proud as punch he lifts the tray above the saltbush scrub
“Welcome to the outback Gran,” we give a little cheer
Dad discretely sniffles as he wipes away a tear
He sets the sticks inside the grate and quickly strikes a match
Then drops the blackened plate in place and waits for it to catch
Soon the chops are sizzling, the sausages and steak
And that’s when we discover our very first mistake
‘Cause while we love to BBQ beneath Australian skies
We’d all forgotten BBQs are also loved by flies
Thousands upon thousands; our fire a gaudy beacon
We flip and flap and slip and slap but soon begin to weaken
It doesn’t matter where we run, there’s no way to compete
You can’t deter an Aussie fly when it’s detected meat
The second of our grand mistakes; a rather smart invention
As cures can often come too late it’s best to use prevention
In Cornwall you would never leave without your large umbrella
So BBQs should never be without some citronella
We drive away defeated and find a marshy lake
And snack on tea and Grandma’s most delicious saffron cake
~~~~~~~~~~~
I was also very chuffed to read in the judge’s report that another poem that I entered warranted this comment…
The Kangaroos’ Barbie by Jackie Hosking is a very clever parody on the song The Teddy Bears’ Picnic and works well when it is sung (this allows compression and extension of syllables, and pauses). However, when read aloud, it didn’t quite work as a poem and so is not included here. I would love to hear it performed.
Well half price July was a huge success with over 40 poems and stories in verse now tight as a drum!
I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who sent their manuscripts in – it really can be a daunting thing to do and I appreciate you trusting your work with me.
After reading so much rhyme and meter I thought it might be useful for me to point out some of the more common errors that I came across, without naming names of course.
Ok – here is a rhyming couplet
But jumping was the only thing that brought Peter joy
He just jumped so much that his parents he would annoy
Does it rhyme? Yes it does. Does it have a predictable meter? Not really. And is it written the way we would speak naturally or has it been twisted to fit the rhyme? I would say yes, the second line has been written in a convoluted manner and as such sounds forced. In natural speech we would be more likely to say –
But written this way – it doesn’t rhyme with ‘joy’.
So how can we fix it?
The first thing that I like to do is to insert all the syllables into a grid like so…
What I’m looking for is a pattern made with the columns. Columns should be all red or all black. As you can see, at the moment, there is no discernible pattern. Which means there is no beat (the stressed syllables provide the beat) which means there is no meter, no tune if you like.
So what might I suggest?
If we look closely we can see that the words (or part there of) that are stressed are the ones that give the sentence meaning. So in the first line we have
and in the second line we have
so even though we are missing 9 words we can still make sense of what is being said.
So if we can work out which syllables are stressed we can see from these grids where and why the meter is or isn’t working.
If you are intrigued by this you might be interested in my booklet ‘Rhyme Like the Experts’. This goes into a little more detail about writing in rhyme and meter but is written simply and quite easy to understand and only $10
To purchase a copy, you can do so via PayPal by clicking the hyperlink or email me for details to pay via direct debit, cheque or money order.
My email address is jackiehosking@bigpond.com
And to finish off – here is what some of my clients had to say of my editing service…thanks everyone.
So I’m referring to the phenomenon of one closing as another opens hence on the back of a recent rejection I’ve just received the news that The Croc and the 
Platypus has been shortlisted for the Speech Pathology Australia Book of the Year Awards. So I am now, once again, feeling very grateful and humble at being in such terrific company. Please go here for the complete shortlist.
The Speech Pathology Australia Book of the Year Awards aim to promote quality Australian books that help children get the best, most literate start in life.
Books are awarded for “Best Book for Language and Literacy Development” in the following categories:
Each book is judged on its appeal to children, interactive quality and ability to assist speech pathologists and parents in communication and literacy development. Learn more about the selection criteria for the Book of the Year Awards.
I’m reminded of the lyrics from the Alanis Morissette song Ironic…
Just for fun I’ve made myself a little sticker and to help with the celebrations I will be offering half price manuscript edits for the
month of July.
So if you have a rhyming manuscript, be it a poem or a story in verse, that just won’t behave itself, send it over and I’ll soon whip it into shape.
Thanks to everyone for all your support and encouragement over the years, particularly Walker Books who really have made this journey a wonderful one.
