poetry

Spiral(Poetry for May)

| Sheree

To spiral is a magical course. One that we can journey on forever.

In the process of becoming whole.

Reconnecting with self, is a circling within. To listen.

Hear your inner wisdom, allow this voice to spiral outwards.

Show up in all your fucked up glory. Access how you are received.

Reflect on the experiences by spiralling back inside.

Turn each event and memory like amber up into the light.

See each crevice, each scar, each deep rooted lesson.

Regroup, patch up and offer yourself grace as you spiral back out into the world.

Rearmoured and ready to reconnect with the world on your own terms.

Spiralling in and out is the plan for change. Is a sign of love.

May (Blossom) Poetry – Empathising with Blossom

| Sheree

I see you, white blossom.

I feel your softness and gentle caress-petals.

Hanging, heavy bell-like clusters of white,

delicate to the touch as well as to the nose.

I taste your thirst for life, to cling on,

as your prime is short-lived, ephemeral

but no less spectacular. Thank you,

sweet one, for blazing white-bright

in my line of sight, that my heartswells

with awe and wonder and love. For you.

For this world. For we share this glory

through our true nature.

Poem A Day – Reflections

| Sheree
New Visual Journal for May

April was National Poetry Month in the States. I attempted to complete and share a poem a day for the month.

On the whole, I just missed a few days towards the end of the month. Things went a bit off the boil, when things got a bit busy. What with birthday celebrations and friends visiting, my attentions were distracted and my energy levels were depleted.

But hey 20+ new poems which didn’t exist before this month is always a win in my book. I feel when I do these challenges, what I produce is hit and miss. Because of the necessity of creating something everyday, the time needed to go deep into a subject or issue is lacking. Surface shenanigans are usually the case.

Speed is needed rather than depth. But now, as May rolls along there is time to revisit and redraft and build upon what is already there.

It’s time to slow down the poetry creation process and spend some quality time going deep. Do some more research, collect some more stories and facts as inspiration and see what happens from there. Let the poems sit and fester and start to speak for themselves.

My poetry writing muscles have been flexed and they’re primed to continue lifting heavier weights of meaning and impact now.

I’m looking forward to see which pieces develop, which ones will fall by the way side and which ones will become pure steel.

PAD/ 027 – Taking a risk

| Sheree

When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

being an archive

oh it’s so sad/ she said/ when reading about slavery

oh it’s so wrong/ she said/ to anyone who’d listen

I listened/ to her going through the motions/ performing

they say peonies are showy flowers/ blousy bursting blooms/ for the show

at least peonies sense when it’s their time/ chance/nature to keep shut and wilt

PAD/023 – empty

| Sheree

The last thing I emptied was my heart

I emptied my heart of lies and shame.

Took out the crammed spaces and rot/

carried them all out to the trash.

It was decluttering to the max of my heart/ of my love – for others/ for myself

I tell, you I haven’t felt better. Heart beating full-blood-red.

Like a new lamb to the slaughter, I’m showing up in my day to day/ jumping/

Springing/ heart open and bleeding.

PAD/022- You have a choice

| Sheree

You have a choice.

Like the dandelion

flowering within the edge

of a verge or between pavement slabs,

you have a choice.

Arousal. Finding joy

in life, is not something

someone else can give to you.

You must take it.

Like breathing.

Like the tulips coming

up for air, right here. Right now.

You have a choice.

An electric current swirling

always, through you.

Between you and the cherry blossom

bursting into pink glory.

To live from this bounty,

you have a choice.

PAD/019 – i am becoming my mother

| Sheree

Commentary: years ago I wrote a poem titled ‘ i am becoming my mother’. I think it’s in my first full collection Family Album, Flambard Press 2011.

A few weeks ago while attending one of my late night across the Atlantic poetry group workshops, I had an inkling to revisit this poem with the intention of bringing it up to date. To try and incorporate all the ‘Sherees’ that have developed, spored since the first poem, since my mum’s death and teachings have passed into decades gone by.

So I created this piece. Same title but definitely more expansive.

i am becoming my mother

Dehumanising the Black woman. Mammy, Jezebel, Sapphire, Bitch.

The black woman is seen as one dimensional; the mule of the world, carrying the heavy burden of mothering all others except her own.

Her own children are lost; lost to the auction block, the ocean, the noose.

A Black woman is a source of strength and love. Passing on power as well as pain.

Her body carries stories, carries histories, carries an archive.

as a black woman,

resting deep within the meadow,

held in softness,

grass tickling shins,

dress billowing about

like blossom,

is a political act.