Friday, April 2, 2010

debut at catweazle

So... we've been going along to the Catweazle Club thanks to our friends Ellie and Jess, who introduced us to it. It's a pretty intimate venue, with a really diverse bunch of folks who play/sing/speak at it. It inspired me so much that I decided to push some creative boundaries and have a go.

So somehow I seem to be in a good creative space at the moment, and wrote no less then four poems last week, which I performed at Catweazle. My lovely friend Sarah B was visiting, so she provided much support and encouragement, and Ingrid made it along too offer her support. I didn't go on till the second half, and I was pretty nervous. But all in all, it went well.

Here's one of the poems I read - it's about Inyanga, a highland area of Zimbabwe where we used to go on holiday as kids. It's one of my favourite places in the world, and I wanted to convey some of what makes it magical in this poem...


To the east.
To the high-lands.
World's view,
where distance hazes gently into pink and golden hues.
We will run through tangled bracken
and push past mist laden grass
wet to the knees
breathing sweet air
crisp and lilting with the gurgle
of a thousand tiny streams
that amble down to the blue gem lakes,
in the hollow hands of hills.

We will slide on slippery pine needles
brown, and shiny in the shade;
building houses with branches,
and picking up pine cones
to burn on the crackling fire
in the stone fire place
when day is done.

But now, we will pick down the stony path to the lake
and row in circles
looking for fishes
crashing, clunky oared through reeds
we'll spy spry lizards
eyes bright
tongues flicking
on lichen splattered rocks.

And when day is done
and the bright white sun
has slid away
behind world's view
trailing pink and golden hues,
we will gather inside by the sparking fire,
tired limbed
and wonder bound
by dancing flame,

teeth scrubbed,
full and fed,
sent to bed,
under cold, heavy sheets
like eyelids.
And beside the bed,
the full moon candle glows.

Outside, in darkness
the wind caresses the black pine trees
and they roar softly
a solitary leopard
sniffs the ground where we played
and, knowing that we're safe inside,
he prowls
around the edges of my dreams.

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