Tag: abstract
Caterpillar Feet
Yum
I’ll devour these words
Every damn letter
The dot on the i
The curve of the e
YUM, there ain’t much better
I’ll sip the t
I’ll crunch in the d
I’ll grind my teeth on the c and the p
So nothing’s more scrumptious
Than writing on the wall
What they say, who bloody cares
Each word, I’ll eat them all.
That Vase
There’s a voice I heard once
When I put my ear to that vase
A scream I thought at first
Then a whimper
A song that trailed into a prayer
Or the other way around
A voice I’d not heard before
Until now, remembering that vase
I hear the tides
The mermaids
The witches finger that tickled my earlobe
As they did that day
And I’m not sure if life was ever the same after that
Or if life stayed the same but my eyes viewed differently
Or maybe I just listened more
Because the more I listen
The deeper I see
And in those depths
The volume of silence gets really deafening
And as I loosen my grip on noise
The unknown unravels
And maybe that vase
Was the beginning of my unravelling
Or maybe
I just heard myself more vividly within starry stained glass walls
It’s all a little strange, isn’t it
No matter what I write
Is nonsensical to someone
So the upside down
Of the mermaids tail
And the witches breath
And the starry glass
Are all mine
Until I listen to a bigger vase.
Seen
I hope not to be seen
By the knower that’s been
Nor the giver, the taker
The holy thou maker
Don’t ram with I think
When my life’s at the brink
‘It sure worked for them’
This rumouring stem
I hope not to be questioned
No shoulds ever mentioned
No rites to my ‘wrongs’
Fine tuning my songs
Don’t raid me with yours
Those outpouring doors
Fast halting the ripple
Black taping the nipple
Not my world, that’s you
Those rules you hold true
Keep them close, if you may
Your minute, your day
Not mine.
Made of Magic
Made of the stars we study at night
Carried by thoughts that soften the fight
Loved by the hands that spin this earth
How for one minute could I (ever) question my worth?
Sortin’ Shit Out
There’s some weird shit going on in my head
You hear that too?
And I ain’t yet through
It’s not always pretty
There’s more to come
I don’t yet think I’ve even begun
To know the depths
Of where I was
Those currents took me far because
I’d swear I’ve not been to places I see
Downing bitters and herbal tea
Making me shed before I was this
And when the hell will I vomit up bliss?
I’ve waited for centuries
Or longer still
To crumple to crap
‘Just pop in a pill’
It’ll help I’m told
Just do as they say
Oh boy, it got me fucked up that way
So this stuff I feel
I’ll shake it out
Cheers to the movers
Salute to the soothers
Draw me a circle of where I should be
And there I’ll shuffle, hesitantly
As I know this shit
I’ve mastered the (eye)
Fenced by a name
And found lenses to lie
I’ll be something special
I’ll always be that
Cos I’m freestyle dancing
Wearing Kraps hat
#29 Grateful for My New Found Love of Art
This no-phone week has been delicious, I almost want to turn if off permanently! I feel calmer, I feel less anxious and less afraid to experiment with my art (my newly discovered passion). On a side note, I would seriously recommend turning your phone off for longer than a day. Life will go on and people will find you should they need to. I don’t think we need to be so accessible all the time, we’re just made to think life won’t be full without it. It will… but that is just my opinion 🙂
Today I painted the above. I call it  I see.Â
I have zero art experience, well apart from a GCSE in art (taken nearly 20 years ago!!), but I freaking LOVE to paint and draw. It has only been in the past few months that I bothered to pick up a paintbrush and I only started drawing because I wanted to create a visual to match my poems, to jazz ‘um up a little (obviously I didn’t think they were good enough on their own!).
I’m no master and to be honest, that isn’t my aim – Â I won’t be trying to impress anyone with what I create, that’s for sure. Surely the personal benefits of self-expression are more important than how ‘accurate’ or ‘masterful’ the painting is.
Also, what I love about painting is seeing the results of your labour straight away. When I’m writing, it’s a slow process, or it feels slow anyway (especially the novel for obvious reasons). The page can become a blur of words, thoughts can seem scattered but when I paint, it seems to make more immediate sense (to me anyway).
I Â feel so lucky that I am able to express myself in this way. In many ways. I truly believe that we find so much peace and healing when we get intimate with ourselves, to begin to understand our soul truth. Self-expression is a grounding practice. It centres us, keeps our hearts open to feel, no matter what feelings arise. Self-expression keeps us wild and alive and in touch with what it means to be human. I’m sure I have written something similar to this in previous posts, I guess it’s been an incredibly important healing tool for me. For a long time I became so obsessed with ‘being spiritual’ I forgot I AM SPIRITUAL, just by being alive. Painting leads me back to me, the real me, the me I am learning to love unconditionally. Honouring my creativity taps deeper into the universal force that dances inside of us all. I feel so strongly that my mental health has improved due to expressing myself, not worrying about what others may think of my work, just expressing who I am. I have noticed that being honest in my work has attracted more honesty into my life and this has been such a gift, one I didn’t even know I wanted.
Within, we have all the magic and pleasures of life. We are the holders of so much love and light (darkness too as without dark we have no understanding of light). We all have much to share and many talents just waiting to be explored.
Let’s get busy exploring 🙂
Do Nothing
The comfort of stillness
Can break my knees and lock my spine
And I question the pain and effortless violence
So meticulously executed, even before my awareness
As waves like celebration flags
Ripple through dense tissue
And tickle forgotten dimples yearning to be seen
I notice because I am doing nothing
Stillness invites interpretation
Or the understanding of it
I am no longer roaming fields of angry daisies
Where curious fingers disturb the ants
I see transformations
How summer can brighten stained glass
So I close my eyes and do nothing
To see layer upon layer of translation
Where clear visions are decorated
With young numbers and early sentences
But the whole self is nothing I have learnt
It is the growth of a bitten nail
Or fever sweating out the swords
The whole self is happening without my interference
I see all this
As I close my eyes and do nothing.
Warrior (I)
I don’t see a broken woman anymore
I’m not the wreck I thought myself before
Yes, I hold the crap I’ve kept
I greet the fears I’ve always met
My heart still aches from shrapnel wounds
Still blinded by those darn typhoons
I wonder still where time has flown
Why seeds of doubt have stubbornly grown
But life stirs up the shit I hid
Those frets, they’re living, not stains to rid
I’ll loosen grip through daily strains
Nor question tears that ease my pains
I’m not shattered glass upon the floor
I am not a broken woman anymore