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There was no lightning bolt, no single defining moment when Kerryn Valeontis fell in love with poetry. That’s because, for her, poetry has never been a stranger—it has always been part of the fabric of her life.
"I’ve grown up with it all my life," Kerryn says simply, as though poetry is as natural to her as breathing.
Her earliest memories are laced with rhythm and rhyme. Her father would read Said Hanrahan, John O’Brien’s bleakly humorous portrayal of Australia’s earliest doomsayers, and her mother brought the bush to life through the galloping lines of The Man from Snowy River, recited with a passion that made the words leap off the page.
Even her name is steeped in poetic tradition. “Mum named me after a poem she
read while pregnant with me,” she explains. “My middle name, Evangeline, is from a very long poem by Longfellow—an epic, tragic love story that takes up a whole
book.”
Poetry didn’t just shape Kerryn’s childhood—it helped forge her identity. So deep was her belief in the power of poetry that as a teenager she once challenged her HSC English teacher, convinced the poem being studied wasn’t being given the
justice it deserved. The confrontation resulted in her being removed from class until the poetry unit ended.
"You stand up for what you love," she says with a grin that still carries a rebellious spark. That spark—poetry’s "rebel heart"—is what she says she loves most.
“Poetry says what cannot be said. It gives expression to the inexpressible. It doesn’t do what it’s told, but it can also be so tender.”
For Kerryn, poetry is not a static, academic pursuit. It is a living, breathing way of
making sense of the world—particularly in times of crisis. During the devastating
floods that swelled the Dyrubbin/Hawkesbury River to her own back doorstep, it was poetry that helped her move through the anxiety. She has since facilitated workshops on ecological grief and climate despair, including in the wake of the Black Summer fires. “It gives people a voice when there are no easy words,” she says.
Working as an art therapist in mental health, Kerryn uses poetry as a
therapeutic tool. She’s studied poetry therapy and frequently weaves verse into her
sessions. She’s read poems during Yin Yoga classes at Yoga Bare studio, and
introduced reluctant participants to the quiet joy of writing haiku in nature.
"Sometimes people tell me they hate poetry," she says. “But then they write a haiku, and suddenly they want to share it. They've forgotten they ever disliked it.”
In Kerryn’s hands, poetry becomes a form of listening, of connection. It’s a way for people to say what they really mean—and to feel truly heard. “In such times,” she says, pausing thoughtfully, “I think we need poetry more than ever.”
If you're interested in joining a Hawkesbury poetry group, contact publisher@hawkesburygazette.com
