poem

[the hour after] – Day 8

| Sheree

Letting my brain catch up with the happening, I allow my heart to stop for an instant. Feeling unmoored to make sense, far too soon.

If only I had saw it coming. If only someone had thought to talk to me before this. Maybe things would be different, maybe the wound wouldn’t cut so deep.

Needing to rewind the clocks, to go back to that ignorant bliss, that season of love and acceptance, is a fool’s wish.

Under the avalanche of words, I move silent into the dark night, to piece myself back together following a different schema, charting an undiscovered course.

[the hour before] – Day 7

| Sheree

I know I was in the full of it all. Life overflowing.

With all its distractions and demands and me thinking I’m the central force.

I know I was missing from the family home, chasing the next big gig, the next recognition slip.

Maybe my family had eaten for the day and I’d missed it again.

Maybe I had to circle the streets trying to find a parking space for at least half an hour.

I know I carried loads of bags with stuff packed just in case, always worried about being unprepared and found wanting.

I know I lacked the self-belief and love of self. I know I needed more of everything.

So when night fell, and I found myself still working, reorganising books for god’s sake, I know I wasn’t prepared for the public shaming.

But my gut probably knew this day of failure would come to expose me for the imposter always felt and knew.

Pink – Day 6

| Sheree

Pink is such a sick colour. Not like red or orange which own themselves. Pink comes across as whimsical, flighty and lacking. It’s uncooked meat. It’s a tinge of desire. Anger, hardly a ripple. Subdued. It’s lukewarm passion which little promise of satisfaction.

But then I see the blossom. In trees full. Bursting out in big blousy blooms. And pink has me by the throat, squeezing out every feeling of joy, pleasure and awe. Pink cherry blossom does it for me everytime that I forget my dislike for pink and I just swoon.

A Study in Short Lived Adventures – Day 5

| Sheree

We’re always looking for answers.

I think that’s why I tell stories or lies.

The purple sky really sets off the creamy whites of those stars.

Silence plays itself. Silence.

I just wish you’d open your eyes when you hover over me.

I just wish you would see me.

Let Us Indulge -Day 4

| Sheree

Let us linger here in this room with the curtains closed with our other lives forgotten for a little while longer.

Let us not use words when our hands, lips and tongues can communicate our needs, our wants.

Let our breath be silken on our skin, let our bodies entwine still able to promise bloom and ripple.

Let us slow it all the way down, slowly, slow, so we can feel each stroke, each gliding smooth folding into each other.

Let us hear each others moans of joy, of wonder as our bodies wander together away from this room, this bed into our happy place where we can ride out the rest of our time here on earth.

Let us dream this lushness as we reach for each other, conjuring connection beyond the here and now, in the here and now.

Let us linger in the lingering light and just enjoy this afterglow, this pleasured pain like passing ships never to traverse these same desire lines ever again.

A Field Guide to Sheree – Day 2

| Sheree

Commonly known as Sheree, with the scientific name being Nigtum Deam, found mostly within coastal areas, regularly at sea.

She is able to listen with attention and sometimes offers unwarranted advise. Her heart is in the right place.

She thrives in green humid spaces, on mountain sides in solitude, often retreating to Scottish glens to laugh at the moon.

She starts to pale and fade in monotonous, negative climates where light is limited and restricted.

She can be lured by white chocolate lattes and any variety of breads. At which point, she will shift into the pleasure zone, all petals opening to receive joys with a smile.

Try to praise this chaotic world – Day 1

| Sheree

after Adam Zagajewski, translated by Clare Cavanagh

Try to praise this chaotic world,
as the first of April dawns fresh,
with welcome light, and slight breeze of delight.
The blossom is waiting to bloom
as the fruit trees inch towards the sky.
You must praise this chaotic world.
You must keep hope when things go awry
while those few, usually white and male,
act like stewards for all humankind, communities
they have very little contact with
let alone care about.
You should praise the chaotic world.
Remember you are not alone, within you
are generations of people who have been here before.
Who did not moan or falter but protested.
They survived so we could thrive
in companionship with the trees,
seas, hummingbirds and ferns.
Praise the chaotic world
and the chance to emerge
as Spring light has returned
after when we think that all was lost.

Welcome to 30 Days of National Poetry Month

| Sheree

It really wasn’t on my radar. But I must have signed up for a co-writing salon with Lemon Grove Writers. And you know how it is, afterwards they send you they send you other emails, sharing the stuff to buy into. Well one such email was sharing that the Lemon Grove Writers were offering a free 30 day poetry prompt email send out for the month of April to coincide with National Poetry Month in the States. As you know I’ve tried a number of years to write a poem a day in April, some years more successful than others.

It’s free, what did I have to lose? So expect to find a poem a day here for the month of April as I try to create something to the given prompt. I begin today with the weather.
If you want to receive these poetry prompts in your inbox, just sign up here. Happy writing.

Darkling

| Sheree
Cover design

I’m not sure how much I’ve shared here. I’m not sure if I wanted to speak it into existence out of fear of jinxing it. Maybe.

Last year, my last publisher Andy Croft got in contact with me asking for my poetry collection. Smokestack Books is planning to close its publishing doors and Andy wanted to go out having published my next collection.

We have a history as Andy published Laventille (2015) and stood by me throughout the whole ‘shit-hit-the-fan’ experience when my life and profession and writing were ruined ( or there was an attempt to ruin me as I’m still here to tell the tale).

So I said yes, maybe naively. As since then I’ve been on a rollercoaster of feelings as I attempted to bring the collection into existence.

Darkling was the result.

At some point I will share some of the poems within the collection. Some of the poems started within this blog. But even though I just got asked last year to complete this collection, I feel, no I know, this collection has been nine years in the making. Ever since Sheree Mack was cancelled in May 2015, I’ve been making my way back to Sheree Mack, someone I didn’t even know existed until she was forced to start again from nothing to building a much stronger and truer foundation.

Darkling is Smokestack Books swan song. Darkling is my rebirth song.

There will be a reading planned of the collection with special guests as support. Check out the details here. Thursday 7 November, 6-7.30pm (GMT).