All posts tagged: poetry

The Friday Fun: 1 July 2016

Halfway through the year and all things are made new. Did you break a promise, abandon a hope? Don’t worry, there’s still 6 months, half a year, 26 weeks, and just over 180 days left in which to redeem yourself. Birds chirp gladly in trees, because summer is here, and you and I walk a little lighter because we’ve made it this far into 2016 and there’s just enough of the year left to reach for the skies. Most importantly though, clock watchers, is the fact that today is Friday. So, here are a few things to help you get into it. 1.Another excellent song from Laura Mvula’s too-good-for-us album, The Dreaming Room. This one is called Kiss My Feet, and it’s the kind of song I think ought to play during a Tim Burton directed movie adaptation of the nutcracker, or perhaps at a faerie-goth wedding, or even just in your headphones as you lie quietly dreaming at night. Here’s a video of her singing it live on Jools Holland, and it’s great, but …

The Friday Fun: 3 June 2016

What is life without anticipation? A constant bob on a calm sea, so inured to ebb and flow that even a diving dolphin or a glittering rainbow seems like just another thing. We need the ups and downs, the nods and shakes, the grunts and groans of the week, if only so we can truly bask in the joy that is a weekend. What would Saturday mean without Monday? It would be just another day, after another day and we’d all be beige. So, my colour-sergeants, prepare to glow because today is Friday, and here are few things to help you get into it.   1. This not new but so pure-Friday of a Coldplay song , Adventure of a Lifetime. I don’t know what Mr ex-Gwyneth Paltrow was thinking calling that other dirge-like song with Beyonce Hymn for A Weekend . He definitely got his titles mixed up as that one is okay but this song is a praise-and-worship masterpiece for a sunny Friday afternoon, a boozy Saturday, a lazy  Sunday and all the …

During rainstorms

Crying in a bed that isn’t yours is like leaving your grief in the arms of a complete stranger. The sheets do not recognize your smell or the tightness of your grip and the pillows mistake your tears for dripping sweat. They have not yet learned the pace of your brokenness or that the conveyor belt of your heart is worn Your sighs sound restful at first Your shakes start out gentle and then grow into something that feels like a volcano at the brink of an eruption. Your sobs are fighting this war pushing back against your will to stay silent, rebelling. You are rubbing your chest in a soft circular motion the same way your mother rubbed your back through every rainstorm when you were young You are running out of air Holding your head like your neck is on its knees Whispering words that sound a lot like begging Like you want to survive this but you aren’t sure Like you might make it through but not for long Like you have given so much, for …

WordArt: In This Story

We’re rushing into cabs, laughing with all the air that our pathetic lungs can muster and we’re falling into each other and kissing each other’s noses and we’re lying on white bed sheets when the first clear pictures of Pluto are released and you turn to me and say “You’re the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen.”

The Friday Fun: 31 July 2015

Today I looked out of my window and saw a stray cat licking its paw. It didn’t matter to Cat that around him, there were cars jostling for space in a narrow road, street hawkers desperate to flog their wares of rapidly rotting fruit, security guards walking their respective beats on guard against danger, office workers in suits and ties pounding the pavement on the way from one meeting to another.  All Cat cared about was its paw, and licking it, so that’s what Cat did- lick, lick, lick, slowly and deliberately, with complete focus and utter indifference to the cares and demands of the world about it. There’s a lesson to be learned from Cat- that no matter how frantic and frenzied the world may be around you, it’s very important, nay absolutely crucial, to take a moment and concentrate on you.  Cat was saying, with each delicate pass of his tongue, “Humans- why not pause in your mad schemes and endless worries, pick a thing that nourishes you, and do it?” Now, it’s …

The Club of Adult, The Chill Soundtrack, No Second Troy

Driving to work is a favourite part of my day. It shouldn’t be; I always pick the slowest moving line through the toll gate, I have bad depth perception so I always think a gaping pothole is a shallow rut and that mistake had me splashing a poor bystander with water made brown by Lagos. I yelled “Sorry!” but I know he didn’t hear me over my music and air conditioning, through my wound-up glass window. Inevitably, another driver does something silly that pushes me from calm contemplation to vulgur verbosity in far too short a time to be admirable. But still. There’s something purposeful and reassuringly normal about sliding into your car in crisp work clothes, joining the morass of other worker bees, thinking about what’s to come, and how to maximise it, judging your car against all the others and making plans. Driving to work is one of the mundanities that marks one’s membership of the Club of Adult. I generally have one set, themed, playlist of 10 or so songs per week. …

A Breath Held For You

A Breath Held, For You. I lost him before I had him. Before he was mine. I watched him float away; someone else’s coloured balloon drifting off into someone else’s bright blue sky. I should have reached out for him, during. Or afterwards. I didn’t. I tried to breathe him in, hold him inside me where he wouldn’t be able to fade. But he slipped past me. Like sly grey smoke, curling around my face Then dancing away with the first, necessary, exhalation.