Tag: abstract

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.

Sortin’ Shit Out

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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

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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. 

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 –  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  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

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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)

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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