Family Soup, a little overwhelming – 20th February Cafe Poet Update

No real update -just some of the poems I’ve been working on….

So hello said the little sleepy town
Waking gently.
Not quite on the road to ok just yet.
Who ever is.
Something and no one and everyone and everything
That’s what it’s all about isn’t it?

*

And my brother. Strong and silent.
Asking.
And me. Loud and scared and something else.
It’s the moments between those places
The words beneath our eyelids.
A hand on a shoulder
A quiet word
Letters on a tiny screen
Reaching.
Trying to.
Missing you.

*

Red face
Angry eyes
I’m sorry
Not at all
I sipped in a breathe
Caught myself before I cried
Looked at your puffing cheeks
And felt
Nothing
Only a remembered pain
Half lit
Because
I’m big now
Grown
A woman
Or something

*

I want to wrap you in this feeling I feel
Tell you somehow everything will be wonderful
Or at least alright.

I want to kick those fears from your eyes
That’s what I’ll do, I’ll chase them away
Further than the furthest star

I want to ask you – who are you?
And hear your reply with both my ears and my heart
Walk forward
I’m just spilling out a spray of words. Half connected, barely formed thoughts. Searching, reaching, slipping. Finding my feet in this big wide aching world. I’ve covering the white with questions. Knowing it isn’t supposed to be this way. But not quite knowing what it is supposed to be…

A catch. A rip. A tear. A twinkle in your eye. Softly. Slowly now. We’re building a life.

*

A big wide street. Tansplanted palms. It’s not the tropics. It’s another sleepy somewhere town. Trying to pretend we have the water to last forever. Too much pride. Need a little more love. Not enough pride. To shout and stamp out feet and say ‘We are here’. We fold our thoughts behind our eyes. Sit with it. The fear. The knowing. The believing. Stopped reaching for each other. Now just waiting. For someone to tell us it’s all over. I want to be braver. Stronger. Harder. Faster. An aching. Aching. Aching. Aching. Something without a name. When did this happen to us? I remember your eyes under the fluro lights. Your cheeks were red and our hands were hot and sweaty and we thought this feeling would last forever. Now the hall is empty. The fluros dimmed. And my darling I don’t think you’re ever coming back to me and it actually. Breaks. My. Heart.

*

Family. It’s a soup. Spicy and hot and warm. A little pleasant. A little overwhelming.

Poetry Anyone? 6th February – Cafe Poet Update

6th February 2012

So…..poetry anyone?

Today is the second day of my residency as a Café Poet in partnership with Australian Poetry and Sprouts Café…….I arrived today (still with my misspelt sign!) to check the poetry box and get set up.

The box was empty – sad face! However, not unexpected being the first week and our media only just starting to jump on the bandwagon. I’m looking forward to reading and responding to all of your poems next week. Remember you can drop in any time during the week and pop a poem you’ve written into the poetry box and I’ll then write a poem in response to yours the following Monday. This isn’t a feedback service – it’s a creative conversation, so let’s talk!

But I’m pleased to report I’ve had a productive morning speaking to the local Youth Development Officer and Magic FM about the residency (and other creative things) and finally now sitting here getting stuck into some personal poetry writing.

I’ve spent the last half hour or so losing myself in the lovely paintings (by Heather Wasley), which adorn the walls of Sprouts Café as inspiration. My early efforts thus far have been fairly clumsy however there are a few glimmers of gold I think I’ll take the time to work on this week. See you soon!