A Glorious Mess

When I was twenty and living in Sydney, a good night out meant heading into the city and dancing until at least midnight with friends. Now that I’m slightly older, a good night out is anything that is over before 8 pm. Last night, my second poetry workshop with the inspiring Lisa Colyer fit the bill perfectly.

Held at the Wanneroo library from 6 pm to 7: 30pm, the event offered the opportunity to hear Lisa read from her work while helping us craft our own. We arrived to find a table full of native plants sourced from Lisa’s own garden for us to engage with, to make the event more hands-on and relatable.

We oohed and aahed and giggled over various plants. Then we sat down and set to work. We penned poems about plants adapting to their environment, described the qualities of flowers in a nod to the times when social restrictions necessitated using clever phrasing to convey a message, and used beautiful botanical illustrations to inspire our words.

In her gentle way, Lisa respectfully encouraged some of the shyer poets to speak their work, revealing previously hidden depth and talent. It was a wonderful night of creating and sharing.

Like the first evening, I found the final task difficult – perhaps due to the necessary time pressure. The image in front of me was of hood-leaved hakeas, but even though I love pink, nothing came to mind. While I did make a fairly bog-standard attempt at viewing the fluffy fronds as fairy floss (Fairy floss bursting/from sage green cups/fleeting sweetness dissolving/into sticky, finger-licking fun), I decided instead to read out the poem I had written earlier that evening immediately after we finished interacting with the leaves and nuts and flowers, which had no connection to any of our tasks. As we discussed that very session, sometimes inspiration hits at unexpected moments, and those words are often easier to capture and craft than those you’re meant to be writing.

It’s called Don’t Lick the Flowers, in a nod to an off-the-cuff comment by Lisa herself.

DON’T LICK THE FLOWERS

(Natalie Bock 28Feb24)

“Touch, touch,” the poet-lecturer exhorts.

But we stand back, strangers all,

too conditioned to only ever feel

with our eyes.

So she forces the issue –

brings the experience to us instead.

And we touch softness

and harshness.

Stroke underneaths as smooth as velvet.

Finger edges of sandpaper roughness.

Heft plants from hand to hand,

surprised by their weight

or lack thereof.

And as we engage, we relax.

Make observations to those around us.

Laugh over expectations not met:

“Oh, it’s furry.”

“It looks like it should have been an animal.”

And then, we sit –

ready to write amongst new friends.

If you haven’t had the pleasure of attending one of Lisa’s workshops, I encourage you to make it a priority. The worst that will happen is that you will spend a few hours with interesting, like-minded creatives, listening to thought-provoking words. But maybe, just maybe, you’ll take home some new works of your own.