Category: Creative

Coming Home, Creative, Random Thoughts

Mediterranean (from Tarifa to you)

I watch the weather where I was
and where I want to be;
too cold for summer, too hot for winter,
too comfortable to be close to anywhere.

I’d stood at the sea’s entrance and
seen the smudge of Africa, nine miles
close, not knowing your blood, that it flows
from the other side.

So that’s why the words zanahoria, azúcar, taste so
sweet and alfombra, almohada, feel
like home.

But you wouldn’t understand.

Between a figment of memory
and a fragment of imagination
I begin to invent the past,
explain the future,
making the present a gift;
making it magic.

I crossed the Atlantic, dipped toes into the Pacific’s
east, Oriental Miss Columbus me.
Meanwhile you were on the west coast
of another kingdom.

We were strangers then.

Lean in, listen keen
to the drumming of my heart: that
all along this was a call
for you to come and take
me back to your Mediterranean Sea. Continue reading Mediterranean (from Tarifa to you)

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Creative, Random Thoughts, Society & Current Affairs

Paradise

Paradise, he declares while I proceed to speak of chains. I am Con-Tiki in reverse, a raft that’s weathered wind and wave. But I’ve tethered me to this here shore, I’m jealous of the roaming tide; these feet that wander rarely now, this heart traversing cloud. Freedom, his desire’s for while forty-five million slaves cry out. Deaf to their lament, their groans, blind to his own … Continue reading Paradise

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Cat sniffs red heels
Creative

Blisters, sparks / Unexpected sentimentality

This post was originally titled “Poems about boys”. Then I thought that was too racy and also inaccurate. So I changed it.

There are two poems, both inspired by – but not actually about – boys. But this is poetry, after all, so who am I to tell you what my poems are “actually” about?

If you’re still interested in my attempts at creative writing, please read on … Continue reading Blisters, sparks / Unexpected sentimentality

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Creative, Faith Journey, Identity

Defrag this

In the days before I converted to Mac, defragging my PC was a standard part of my life. I would order things in neat folders and subfolders, name files consistently and accurately then conscientiously delete them when they were superseded by newer versions. Alas, my PC would still take its sweet, sweet time with even basic tasks. It would limp along on the best of days and … Continue reading Defrag this

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Coming Home, Creative

The opposite of vertigo

The opposite of vertigo
Is your wings poised for flight
and your feet stuck in cement;
Is the skyward pull that makes
you ill to be on the ground.

Gravity versus your dreams.

The opposite of vertigo
Is conversations about the weather
and getting angry at traffic;
Is display windows taunting you
with things that won’t make you happy.

You can see right through them.

From the pit of your stomach
to the tip of your tongue
the air here’s thick,
swallows up inspiration.

The opposite of vertigo
Is the sickening sensation of settling;
Is being shackled when you should be airborne.

The opposite of vertigo
Is the curse of those who come down from altitude;
Is the Icarus in you and me. Continue reading The opposite of vertigo

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Creative, Faith Journey

Out of Egypt

Draw me out of stormy water
My first breath is marked by grace
Make me someone else’s daughter
Heart that doesn’t match its face

There is a blueprint to my heart
Chase it up my family tree
Peel away this royal mask
Disarmed, now trace me back to Eve

Fire within and it consumes me
Lift my hand, in for the kill
Fire before my eyes I see
Instantly the world falls still

Pack my bags and leave the road
Suddenly I’m homeward bound
Might and mercy that was showed
A destiny, a new hope found

Even pain it had a purpose
Rejection taught me who to trust
Didn’t see it at the time
The diamonds being formed from dust

Here before this multitude
Seas will part and nations fall
Incongruent heart refreshed, renewed
Tuned in to the celestial call Continue reading Out of Egypt

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Bolivia, Creative

Victor

I.

It was perfect in a bittersweet way

The overcast day
The fresh flowers
The waiting

The shades of black and grey
The Padre Nuestro
The father’s chanting

II.

They ushered him through a maze
of flagstones well-polished by the varnish of water
and the heavy footsteps of generations of mourners.
For fifty pesos a stranger sang
as we showered him with rose petals and rain.

Amidst her wailing and her brothers’ silent despair
and the cement mixed and laid thick to immortalise him,
the sky stops crying and its blue eyes blink
and I, for a moment, stare into eternity,
into sorrow, into loss, into hope.

Avenues upon avenues of memories
in this city of the departed;
yards and yards of carnations
doing their best to defy time –
but who can resist?

Grief made her embrace linger, made us angels
without wings, and stranded on earth,
but angels nonetheless.

III.

Another Padre Nuestro
Another sigh
Another moment without him

The first of too many. Continue reading Victor

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