Greg O’Connell
Writer
Biography
I’m a poet
I take a line and throw it
I take a rhyme and crow it
I take a word
And overflow it.
There’s nothing quite like the last scrape of chocolate icing out of the bowl, nothing quite like being tumbled head over heels by a crashing wave, and nothing quite like writing and performing new poems. It’s that natural high that accompanies the crafting of words that has me hooked.
For many years, I admired the work of other writers, until I finally submitted a batch of ten poems to the School Journal in 2007. I waited. One month, two, three. Then a letter arrived, accepting “A Spider’s on the World Wide Web”. I leapt up and down, punching the air, in a private victory dance. Then I promptly rang everyone I could think of. While my luck was in, I dispatched another 10 poems ... and waited another three months. This time “The Sink” was accepted. Wow! Determined to attempt a hat trick, I sent off 20 fresh poems and tried in vain to keep calm. I made an agreement with myself that if I managed three out of three, I’d take a poetry roadshow around local primary schools. Finally the third letter arrived. To my delight, “Zoom Tube” made it three in a row.
That was all I needed by way of a green light from the universe. I wrote more than 100 poems for kids and took them on the road to school audiences. I conducted performance poetry workshops. I had my first public poetry reading. And of course, I sent off another batch to the School Journal. Amazingly, “Sky Waka” was accepted, making four poems in succession.
By this time, I was having so much fun working with poetry in schools, I decided to create a website and set my sights on an annual performance poetry tour.
For me, it would be impossible to overstate the thrill of creating, presenting, and promoting poetry. Today I had the opportunity to teach in a class of years 7 and 8 students. While they wrote, I wrote. Then we all shared the results. Their poems were, by turns, funny, clever, insightful, and dramatic. These young writers are a constant inspiration. And the joy of composing and dramatising poems alongside them has become my privilege and passion.
Apple Pie
I’ve left the apples in their bowl so long
they’ve developed bed sores
but I’ve been busy
with words
washed the words
peeled and sliced the words
heated the oven
to the exact temperature
and baked the words
now
my poem boasts
a golden crust
and its core
is fit for a spoon.