Being a Poet Laureate on National Poetry Day

Worcestershire LitFest & Fringe have just posted my latest blog which focuses on National Poetry Day. You can read it here

I would like to thanks St Barnabas School, Drakes Broughton for inviting me to their Poetry Challenge Day, Worcs LitFest for running the poetry competition, the Museum of Carpet for hosting the evening event and everyone who performed at it. One of the performers was Nina Lewis who has blogged about it here

As promised, here is the poem I wrote on National Poetry Day in response to a request from St Barnabas School:

Being a poet

I look
I might see a giant silver horse’s head in a field!
I look closely
I might see an ant carrying a peanut

I listen
I might hear some unusual words, like crambo-jingle
I listen hard
I might hear a wonderful story
I listen hard
because it’s not hard to listen

I love
I love to look
I love to listen
I love to listen to people
using words
telling stories

I love to tell stories
some real, some made up
I love to laugh
I love funny words
I love to rhyme
like when I wrote about a parrot and a carrot
though poems don’t have to rhyme

To be a poet
all you need is to
look, listen and love

oh, and write it down
or say it out loud:
what you see
what you hear
and what you love
so others can
see it, hear it and love it too.

© Heather Wastie
October 2015

written for a visit to St Barnabas School, Drakes Broughton on National Poetry Day

Happy National Poetry Day

This year’s NPD theme is Light. As well as presenting Light and Shade at the Museum of Carpet in Kidderminster tonight, I’ll also be visiting St Barnabas School, Drakes Broughton for their Poetry Challenge Day. This poem is for them and for you.

The day the sun fell 

One day the sun
fell from the sky
and shattered on the ice
of my pond.

I ran to pick up
the pieces but
they were far too hot to hold
and began to burn holes in my lawn.

The shards glowed.
What should I do?
The whole world
was depending on me.

Sudden movement,
a blackbird ran from the darkness,
grabbed the fragments in his beak
and flung them

up, way up
one by one
until the sun
was whole again.

The sun winked
at the blackbird.
The blackbird winked
at me.

I squinted into
the beautiful light
and breathed a sigh
of relief.

© Heather Wastie