There’s some deep grooves
laid down through the moves,
forced or voluntary,
in the migrant’s heart
a migrant’s heart will always be a split – colonialism running through the blood like dis-ease
stitched together, makeshift, with tartan, kente, plastic and twine, scattered cowrie shells divine.
a ghost of its former self,
a migrant’s heart will always beat
out of place and time.
Sunday afternoons, after fried curry and rice and West Indian dumplings,
we’d sit on a brushed flannel blanket covering the velvet settee. Legs too short to touch the multicoloured carpet beneath.
We’d sit straight, only our eyes moving, wandering over the bright yellow textured wallpaper, tracing patterns and exits until we were dizzy.
He sat in one armchair and her in the other. Armrests protected with white hugging linens. Dollies on head rest, sideboards, side tables. Everywhere.
Behind him hanging against the white washed wall was a black velvet scroll depicting the islands of Trinidad and Tobago. Home. A silence presence.
If he was in a good mood then there’d be port and a cigar and the gramophone sounding out with soul. Other times, black and white TV shows like Survival and the history of athletics, we had to watch. Still and silent.
We were his children brought up to do as we were told. To not ask why and call our elders uncle or Tantie . Any deviation from such a course of action would result in rage and beats.
My imagination became the place of expressing my range of emotions. My imagination became the place of power and choice. Freedom.
Pigeons. Standing there.
From a marionette flat
with a pebbledashed balcony
grey feathered birds, standing
there, there on the railings.
After Paula Dunn
based on the weather
handing over a landscape like a veil,
a limited palette
to keep things simple
but storm coming on, clouds layered,
winds textured
and dark low lying land brushmarked
and glazed for atmosphere
the yellows, oranges and browns brood
within depths of time and place
searching for a flick of white
to rest and breathe
After Lubaina Himid
Worn timber, cowrie shells,
currency and shoreline,
you sound like waves
and the creaking hull of death.
I try to imagine, she said, what it would be like to be taken from all that I knew, moving in a stinking wooden vessel over something I knew not what to call but it swallows our bodies whole. See sea, sea see. Propped against a white wall to suggest a wave in motion, the angle of pleasure, as I witness it, from the other side, here and now, I rumble with displaced memories. Memories that traumatise but hold onto me like seeds buried within my hair, bearing into my flesh.
I’ve really enjoyed sharing my love of water over this last month. And this isn’t the end of The Healing Properties of the Seas 2022 project.
Expect more 10 second videos to appear for the rest of the year and beyond.
These clips of seas will be posted on the blog first and then find their way to the portfolio page by and by.
A river takes it own sweet time to reach the sea. Slow and steady it goes. I’ll take my lead from the waters.
It’s April!
Happy Poetry Month.
I know March was all about me diving deep into The Healing Properties of the Seas, 2022 Project.
But now it’s April, I’m going to focus on my poetry writing.
April has traditionally seen me taking up the the NaPoWriMo – 30-poems-in-30-days challenge. So why change something if it isn’t broken.
Of course you’ll still be able to get your seas fix on the blog for the rest of 2022. But now I must turn my hand to poetry.
These last few days of March saw me take a much anticipated trip to London. It’s been a time filled with walking and creativity, taking in exhibitions and musicals and nature.
I plan to start off the poem a day practice with a review of the images I’ve taken of the artworks I’ve visited since down in London. So ekphrasis poetry is the order of the month.
Ekphrasis is a device used in poetry or even a type of poetry which takes a piece of artwork as it’s starting point. It involves a detailed description of the work of visual art as inspiration and then who knows where the inspiration will take the writer. But the piece of art was the seed and that recognition is credited usually with the phrase ‘ After such and such.’
I start today and I hope you will join the journey.
Living Wild Studios 