Cooked Potatoes

Down the dark domed womb of my world, Insects flutter: little blazing miracles, symbols of hope, and of nostalgia for the light. In the cities, hummingbirds still fly, and bees with pollen laden wings spread life across the fields…still. There is yet song; there is still strife; there is yet love: all is not lost. Down the burning woods life trembles. Creatures are seeking sanctuary. And ferns that once boasted  the bounty of their fronds, today witness their own death. The acrid stench of greed permeates the smoke choked forest. Meanwhile the ignorant,  accomplice of the criminal, receives the calls, feet on his desk, and scratching his gold teeth says: “We’ll look into it tomorrow”. While creatures on four legs, and two, with roots, or wings, Or crawling, Wonder What, On Earth, Is going on? Special mention, poetry competition Nostalgia for The Light, London, 2016

A butterfly dances round a lamp. The girl bows over the bed and whispers into the old woman’s ear: if I am made of star dust, I live inside this universe which lives within me, then, no hunger, no pleasure, nor pain, are alien to me…”  Grandmother opens her mouth and the child’s eyes travel through an immense and timeless cave, which exhales a freezing breath. “Do you see that butterfly?” Says the woman to the child, the woman says: “at this very moment A mountain in China crumbles, And in other places, Where people have no lamps, butterflies flutter all the same out of nostalgia for the light. And when they bat their wings, wherever in the world a mother finds her child, a lover cries, or a tyrant tumbles.

This is another poem written during The Power of Language workshop lead by Kayo Chingonyi, as part of the Acts of Rebellion event at  October Gallery . And inspired by the image of Brittany Newsome, who climbed up a flagpole in South Carolina and pulled down the Confederate Flag, as she was being arrested. Woman so brave brings down the confederate flag Woman so brave. Like the carved statue on the prow of a ship, breast exposed to the storm and the stones That the centuries have seen poured over your blood and your race. As white officers, agents of hate come punctual to your arrest you remain entirely yourself acrobat of the skies free bird that was dreamt by the slaves

I wrote this poem during the Power of Language workshop , lead by poet  Kayo Chingonyi  , as part of the Acts of Rebellion event so beautifully organized by  October Gallery Education At school I was Neither Blonde, nor blue eyed and butter melted in my mouth. Could not blend nor fit in So I decided to be bad. It caused me conflict That pendulum dance Between being very god And very bad. Spit, bite, curse, kick “Such and angry little girl!” Dishonored many Of the Commandments. No one would recognize me On the first day of May Bringing flowers to the Virgin Writing notes to the almighty Swearing to atone for my sins Family tragedies guilty Burdens on my shoulders Or later crying my eyes out In the middle of a party Because boys danced With...guess... Blue eyed girls Girls with tameable hair Girls with sweet voices With perfect smiles Girls who didn’t swear or smoked pot In the dark. And so I grew to learn and...

Today I got my red shoes back Walked bare feet across the park, To let the sun into my roots. Discard all that is not made with love. Make time to love the ones I love, To practice love, to practice love. Take none for granted Be ever grateful. Imagine those who have no homes 600 million people displaced; Imagine the evening before Abandoning your home Bundles by the door, babies wrapped up You are fleeing at dawn, Imagine that, take none for granted Today I got my red shoes back I discard all that is not love.

For Mum In the beginning, we have no teeth. We depend on our mother. We depend on her for nourishment; we depend on her for love and security. Then at about age one we get our first set of teeth, ‘milk’ teeth’. At the same stage we start to exercise our will to move about the world, to investigate the space around us and our bodies. We chew all that we can find. Then aged six, these temporary, rehearsal teeth start to fall in preparation for the big ones, the ones that are to remain with us for the rest of our lives. With them, we will be able to bite, chew, digest, and smile. By that same stage we are psychologically formed. Events, experiences that happen then will shape us for the rest of our lives. If they do not fall, the lucky ones will carry them until death sees them out. In Garifuna the word for teeth and navel is the same: ‘nari’. What do Garifuna know about the connection between our teeth and our mother? Navel, because it is the symbol of Mother that we carry t...

Mother, you left last autumn And little by little winter came Dragging its old man’s feet. Days grew colder, Shorter and darker Without you being here. And as with tears I watered down my orphan’s grief Your message came to me “Don’t cry my child, Don’t you see now I am free?” I saw you clearly: Your cheeks were pink From so much playing with angels. Your limbs agile and strong Jumping from cloud to cloud Reminded me of the child That you and I and everyone once was. You have taken to the sky No longer bound by pain Or loneliness, or strife. You rise boundless; You are one with the stars. As we scatter the ashes Of your body we so loved Crocuses push the soil Beneath our feet Daffodils raise their Proud heads in the sun Announcing spring, Resurrection and joy. What can we do but thank you and Honour you with our prayers and toil Mother, beloved guardian Of our tender days Loving carer of all, All six of us. And ...