POEMS (From an idealistic asthmatic who believes in creativity) – Nathan

Hey folks, it’s Nathan again, writing to you all from the same cluttered desk and with the same charismatic little nugget of a cat on my lap.  His name is Lucky, and his rapacious desire to eat often leads him into hilarious adventures such as consuming an unnatural amount of lurpak and becoming trapped in garden sheds. I’ve yet to write a poem about Lucky but I assure you that the minute I can fathom the words to adequately pen his personality I will. Suffice to say he’s a simple soul and he enjoys peeing in unorthodox places. I believe I can make up for the lack of cat-poem by bringing you much other poems that will make you think thoughts and dream dreams. So that’s what this little post is: a collection of things I’ve written with a little biography of where I was when I wrote each of them and what inspired them.

I’ve decided to reveal these poems to you in all their unglory in the spirit of Uncovered Artistry’s “Love. Heal. Create.” motto. Uncovered Artistry is all about using your creativity to heal and empower yourself, and we have a lot of great people making jewellery for our store; everything you will find there is made by people who have chosen to take the power that art affords us and make it into something they can share with you all. In my own humble way I’d like to follow their example by showing you things I’ve done gone and made with my brain. We’re a small team of creatives working really hard to make Uncovered Artistry a hub for people who want to share their stories, and we hope that you can get to know our artisans and their products over the coming months.

With this in mind the first poem I would like to show you is one I wrote with Uncovered Artistry on the brain, and it concerns empowerment. I tried to think of some way of conveying how creativity makes me feel powerful and how our artisans are harnessing that power in their work. It is titled “So We Rise” and I hope you enjoy it!

 

“So We Rise”

Spare a thought for me
wen I fall,
But as I rise
give me both
of your eyes.

Give me the rapture
of a billion open mouths.
With every clap of your hand
a star is born,
with every tear
on your jumper
a golden river rushes through a  carelessly
carved
crag.

As I rise
sing to me in words
louder than a sympathetic
nod,
or a half-hearted lullaby.
Tell me in verse
of my death,
but scream
in a throaty
chorus
of how I live
and live
again.

Like the glint of a rainbow
we are formed
from the cloud-clodden
hands
of a bad monday morning
and an evil friday night.

But witness our birth
in the midst of the fight.

 

“Looking”

I wrote “Looking” while I was waiting on a train to take me to work. I had been reading Neil Gaiman’s “American Gods”.

Is this my train
pouring through
the black?
Eating up the dark,
with lights so bright
they burn the eyes
right out of my head,
and a voice like a siren’s
saying this service is for
Motherwell.

Or is it the second coming
of a long dead god?
One whose face is a rune
held in the memory
of the most ancient man
the world has ever known,
but it is beginning
to be forgotten
even by him…

Two broken legs,
one functioning heart,
half a brain,
and whatever
I have
left in my current account
will sustain me
til next week.

But there are sea creatures
in my bath,
and dragons in my bran flakes.
Although you can’t see them
unless you’re looking,
unless you’re pulling apart
the cobwebs,
and chopping
through the vines.

Walking through the smog
is never pleasant
on a morning where
gods are just a memory.

but still…
is that a train you see?

 

“Unwriting”

This was written in a busy shopping centre during my lunch break and I wanted to be anywhere but there.

The blots come loose
there is a grating sound
as metal strokes metal
with chainmail kisses
and I am dissembled
part by part
coated in new paint
until I am anew
just the way
I never
wanted
to
be.

I pick up a pen
but as it kisses
the paper
the nib is as
dry as my mouth
empty of words
where once they
swam like
children
in a
public
pool.

 

“Breathing”

Without sounding like a cliche, said as a twenty-something arts graduate who works part time in a coffee shop, this is a poem about anxiety and hope.

Coming up for air,
I saw a crude puppet
Below the waves.
Drifting down into nothing
Where nothing is born,
And as I turned my neck
To the sun
I saw your face
Where the flames should be.

This was a lonely sea
and I am glad that no one followed me.
This is the greying wall
where no colour can fall,
and join with mine,
and intertwine,
and make the sweetest,
darkest wine.

Coming up for air,
I am breathing in the world,
I feel the lap of the shadowy sea
Beat on my body,
Like amniotic blood
and now I know,
that now is the time,
today is the day
this is the moment,
to start swimming again.

And I am a good swimmer.

 

“My CV”

I wrote this after I started thinking about how ridiculous CVs are.

I am enthusiastic.
I am dedicated to my work.
I am a team-player.
I work well alone.
I am a creative problem solver.
I believe in method.
I am a confident speaker.
I take direction well.

I have a range of skills and abilities
In my previous roles my responsibilities included…
I want to work with ____ because…
I believe in this product.
I want to challenge myself.
I thrive in new environments.

I need this job to buy wine.

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