Cat fur and itchy crumbs,
The soft and milky
Spell of films and laughter,
Salty tears the blanket took,
Stretchy holes and threads
Pulled loose by happy claws –
The ecstasy of dribbling jaws –
Bobbly bits I want to pull
(Pigtails on the girl in front)
And dingy bits from god knows what –
Old friends –
Do not wash my yellow blanket.
To those who cannot be themselves,
I ask you to listen:
(Not to those with certainties
Or clear cut ways to be)
But to the place your eyes reach;
Wild paths your feet long to tread;
And the call and leap of
Rhythms you have not heard.
Close your eyes and go!
For many also dance
To their own song.
And, in your lost exploring,
You will find
Hands outstretched in love to
Hold your own.
Need the words today;
The space that aches in my chest
Is calling for words
To hold the hurt.
Pressing the page:
Paper stretched to translucence
By feelings too big.
Feelings to carve on slate
Or skin
But certainly too big
To keep within.
Paper wins and so I build.
Sinking into the deep unthink
Of curving ink.
I burst the inner bubble:
(The one I thought was full of
Wolves and stretchy screams)
To find a flood of
Paint and song and dance
That needed me to give it only
Half a chance.
Strut
Dig your heels in
Do that hip swing thing
Hold your head high and
Let the rhythm make your tail spin
Plug your best sounds in
Hear the sound waves sing
Don’t walk to work
Take a twerk and have a swing fling
Highlight of my day
Making my way
With a private sashay
Every time I press play
In the sounds my hips turn
And silky joints slip mindlessly,
Pulled by a point inside.
Lost in the flow and jerk
Sweet unthinking velvet of dance,
Colours stream bended air.
Soft stroke of the breeze
On shoulders heavy from yesterday;
Should have stretched.
Now the wind kisses tired
Muscles better; bugs crawl on dry skin,
Tickling me
Back into perspective,
And the ache of bigger things is lost
In nature’s rocking arms.
Neat honeycombs of cross-cross vines
Defend the land: salute the star-white
Sun of morning,
Whilst friendly olive groves, their upright
Neighbours mock, and dance for joy as
Day is dawning.
In the haze:
Watching the turquoise waves,
Dreaming of slower ways
To be.
In the haze:
Found my way from the maze,
Traded the London craze
For sea.
On the stones:
Glistening ocean bones,
Laughter and ice cream cones
For me.
On the stones:
No need for mobile phones,
Far from to-do-list drones,
I’m free.
In the breeze:
Brushing my sandy knees,
I do just as I please.
Easy.
In the sun:
Finding the small things fun,
Feel life has just begun.
You see?
When did I leave that urgent dark,
That plays a tune
On crisscrossed bark
To play amongst the coloured lights:
Sweet honey bees
On whimsy flights?
Today I run through blossom trees
And skip through waves
With sandy knees.
All grinding discord left behind.
Discarded bones: a
Stranger’s mind.
I like to think there’s nothing lost,
That day is gain
And night is cost,
But still a something lingers there
Of longing, grief
And musey flair.
How do I keep the richest thread,
If gritty truth
Is left unsaid?
I fumble through to feel for gold
In shifting sands that
Dreams unfold
And one day, at my fingertips
(Electric thrills and
Tummy flips),
I’ll find a way to join the two:
My summer yellow,
Winter blue.
My value is innate.
I know I cannot lose it.
I will not give it up.
It is not mine to give.
My worth is at my core.
I do not need to prove it.
I cannot give it up.
It is not mine to give.
So I can look you in the eye
And hold your gaze across our tears,
Across our differences and years.
For every person holds from birth
A rich, unchanging,
Human worth.
Roots crushed by asphalt, Iris stands her ground.
In everything hopeless, hope can be found.
Coloured noisy shirts
That jostle brightly:
Sugar strands
On wet icing,
Trace the long stemmed field
In well-worn wheels of
Summer sports.
In every hard-pressed heart
A different song is sung:
One that moves
Light feet or knows
The beat of mournful drum.
Young ankles turn on
Dried footprints.
But just for now, from
Far off, their sunny
Sport brings smiles
To tired faces:
Pale and lined from endless
Office hours. Their gaze
Rose-tinted.
For some, this light will
Blow out here, but not
For all. A
Bold white spark is
Thrown on restless kindling;
Nervous legs will come
Again soon.
Feet, unused to trainers,
Will regain their bounce
And eyes that
Lost their starry
Faith will glow once more.
Happy memories
Open doors.
ThinkingInk 