Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poems. Show all posts

Thursday, 1 November 2012

Tribute to the Stars


Introducing Deanna Jackson, age 14, who has always written poetry since she was about eight years old. However, it wasn't until her first year at Secondary School aged 11, that she began to commit to it. Deanna wrote poetry to express her feelings, not just about starting a new school, but life as a whole, and how she felt about it. Writing poetry became a natural thing to do, particularly when she was upset. If Deanna felt that she couldn't speak to anyone, then she wrote poetry which gave her a voice. Now, she mostly writes poetry for the enjoyment. However, it will always be her support mechanism whenever needed.

I met Deanna on 11th August 2012, when she attended a Creative Writing Workshop that I led at Wellingborough African-Caribbean Association's Fun Activity Day. I was impressed by the way Deanna very quickly wrote and delivered a new poem, fresh off the press during the session. At the end of the workshop, Deanna handed me two of her poems. So it is with much pleasure that I post them here:

Tribute to the Stars
So many stars have died so young
There lives we’ll never forget
When they started taking drugs
they didn’t consider the effects
Whitney Houston topped the charts
but the drugs sent her singing downhill
she always looked so exhausted on stage
but she struggled on still
Amy Winehouse lived her life
through many ups and downs
she was so pale and weak
and in her sorrows she did drown
Michael Jackson, we will remember
as the legend of music he was
His painkillers made him feel so great
and his death was such a loss
So let this be a warning to you
before it is too late
for these stars thought that drugs would help
and they had a much worse fate
Realisation
When I was young, life was simple
Just like a roundabout
there never really was any change
so there were no reasons to have any doubt
When I was young, I had no priorities
I had no list of things I wanted to do
other people didn’t matter as much
I had a more self-centred view
When I was young, I could laugh at things
that I didn’t even understand
Things just seemed like so much fun
I didn’t think life needed to be planned
When I was young, things were different
I didn’t know what was yet to come
I never realised how bad you could feel
And how it felt when you wanted to run
When I was young, I didn’t want to grow up
And when I did, I wanted everything to rewind
But now, I’ve finally grown to realise
Age also gives you a stronger mind


Saturday, 21 July 2012

Invocation to the Spirit of Inspiration

Introducing: Jo Waterworth, a poet and ceramic artist who has lived in Glastonbury for over twenty-five years. She has had stories, poems and articles published over the years but keeps avoiding ‘success’ in case it changes her life. She also sings with an award-winning community choir.


INVOCATION TO THE SPIRIT OF INSPIRATION

Come to me gently, like a soft breeze caressing my neck.
Let me feel you as a lover
kissing my body on every sensitive skein of skin.
Run your fingers through my hair.
Fill my in-breath with scent – let me smell roses and dung,
river banks and hot dry sting of deserts.
Fill my out-breath with warmth, with moisture for weeping,
and for watering new growth.
Lift my soul like a thermal so I may soar,
circling far above the earth with clear vision.
Hold me on light wings, outstretched to sense
every nuance and shift in current.
Blow me to new places where I might settle like dust,
barely visible but covering everything.
Blow me through trees and mountains,
across lakes and oceans, into distant cities.
Blow me through time itself –
wreck my life if you must.
I will give myself to you, trust in you,
use you wisely, recognize you in others,
lead others into your ways.
I will experience you fully, all my senses wide open to you,
greatest of lovers.
I will give my mind to you,
every hidden crevice, every forgotten drawer,
every creaking floorboard.
I will invite you to inhabit the cathedral of my mind;
I will make effigies of you for others to worship;
I will sing hymns to you with harmonies divine;
I will sit in silent contemplation waiting for your presence.
I will marry myself in your sight, and keep faith with my vows.
I will name you a thousand-fold, heap praises upon you,
and breathe in your grace until my last expiration
when I hope to be joined with you in everything.                                            

JMW 06-12


Friday, 21 January 2011

100: WORDS


Introducing Rowena Keaveny, a visual artist living in Ireland, inviting you to take part in an on-line project she recently started called 100:WORDS.

It examines and celebrates loss, love, life and the passing of time and asks people to describe the life they have experienced using 100 words or less.

You can see the project at:
http://www.lifein100wordsorless.wordpress.com/ or on facebook 100words. So far Rowena has received submissions from the USA, Canada, Finland, Italy, France, Australia, and the U.K. She is hoping that there will be a publication and short film to accompany the project but this will be determined by the amount and type of submissions received.

Please feel free to pass the details on to anyone you feel maybe interested in the project.

Saturday, 28 August 2010

Jilted, Circa 2005

Introducing Hannah Edeki, a new poet and writer, born and bred in London. Her work has been published in The New Black Magazine, Shangwe News and Palapala Magazine.

Jilted, Circa 2005

I have seen the yellow corydalis
Tilt its trumpet-shaped head towards
A bed of unsculptured green,
Watched the long-tongued bees veiled with pollen,
Oscillating, celebrating.

I have tasted the decadent sweetness
Of my fiancés kiss, quaint & still,
I have seen the shortcomings of a satiated soul.

I have held the arms of one believed to be strong,
Felt the weakness that punctures a wounded heart,
Jilted: I have thought about drifting
Along salty air like fulmars—

Ascending,
Migrating,
Fading.

Sunday, 31 January 2010

Keeper of the Keys

I came across this poem in a book called Thinking for a Change by John C Maxwell:

Keeper of the Keys

You are the keeper of the keys
You are the Guard at the Gate
Waiting in line to go through that door
is LOVE. And also HATE.
In line to enter is GENTLE PEACE.
And also VIOLENT WAR.
You must choose who may, and who
May not come through the door.
INTOLERANCE tries to sneak on through
On wings of FEAR, or PRIDE.
It hides behind DREAMS of BELONGING,
And tries to sneak inside.
Oh! Be alert! You're the Guard who decides
Who GOES and who may STAY
You are The Keeper of the Keys to your Mind.
Who will you let in today?