Women Today on Manx Radio.

Today I had a great time on the Manx Radio program Women Today, talking about all things poetry, the Oscars and performing some of my poems. You can listen to a recording of the full show here:

Yes! I want to listen to awesome women! 


Many thanks to the whole team. As for writing a poem about my experience... well, you'll just have to wait and see.

Xxxx

Valentine

On this,
the day of martyred lovers
I recall a misunderstood comment.
“One day I’ll see you live”
it said.
Of course it meant live, as in music.
But the former struck a chord in me.
To live in place of existing
To BE and not to be.
There isn’t a question
that this is what we will
for those we love unconditionally.
Imagination is distilled experience.
Expression of essential natures
exhibits intimacy intensely.
Earnestness earned less rudely,
more conscientiously chosen.
The resulting constraints are the price of those decisions.
But to you I still wish the freedom
to truthfully tell how you feel
instead of fearfully throwing up shields.

One day I’ll see you live.

He Shoots People

A little while ago I wrote a poem called 31 after a day taking modelling for internationally celebrated photographer, Phil Kneen.
The photos resulting from that day are now up.
Find them here

Here's one I particularly love:


Hypocrisy

Hypocrisy,
I’m sad to say, seems to be
everywhere.
This unfair, self-sided
not sharing sentiment.
It’s meant I've bent my principles
away from empathy.
And yet, for me the beast
of these
self-imposed, self-broken laws
is the source of bitter courses
of reaction.
I act on what this serves to teach
me about my own breach
of codes.
I suppose I could deny any involvement
but self-absolvement is the last of my concerns.
Discerning behaviors distasteful that I once displayed
dismays me more than I can say
because if I recognize
that sly behavior it implies I see myself
reflected there.
and where is my authority
to deny life’s great variety
or experience gained through tragedy?
In hypocrisy.
Just there
perched,
cursing at its shadow, scowling
hissing at its own misdeeds;
impeding growth
of seeds of both
maturity and change.
It’s strange to compare the grey haired and blue haired versions of my conscience.
Did once I consider this all to be fine?
“What’s mine is mine and what’s yours is mine”
-          where flaws are found, resoundingly.
I’m not sure about my ability
to learn through humility
I’m much more likely to learn through humiliation.
And if the situation is just
history repeating with perspective skewed
I refuse to lose this chance to prove
I’ve changed.
And all the same,
this reframing of my shame
avoids placing blame
and leads me back where?
To hypocrisy.
unfairly
on this horse, high,
sighing self-satisfied smugness
while judging others
bloodlessly
from a position of
faux wisdom.
As though instances of insecurity
and immorality are things that
don’t happen to me.
As if I’m beyond that.
As if I’m not distracted by
fantastical thoughts and dreams
of grass being seemingly greener.
So between condemning
contemplation and the conduct
of freshly experienced rule breakers
remember to be kind.
You’ll find yourself at one point or another
struggling to discover
some earnest self truths.
And the proof?
Your own hypocrisy.

You’ll see it there.