Examples of my work
Drowning
Feel the tension on my lungs,
giving in to the liquidity of the deep blue sea’s gravity, whilst my capillaries fill with fluid like a perforated jar, I am spluttering, coughing, suffocating like a drowning child out far, can feel a touch whilst grasping loud for air, pulling me and sparing molecules of air from stagnation in my blood vessel’s tear.
Drowning, frowning, feeling incomplete, leaving you behind like the unspoken token of infancy, kept in a place to align again with me, when need will be. Long lost sanity, forgotten and buried underneath the tree ‘s roots of vibrancy, now reaching out to me but with a twist in their supremacy.
The night has passed and so have you,
loosened has your grasp on me, day has broken into the spoken, light flooded reality with its degrading cruelty, rooting me to the spectator’s lucid stand, letting the world pass by and its events, till the moon returns to rescue me, releasing me again into the open of the unspoken.
The Sea
You never show the same face twice, like your mood had changed as you had to witness the moon’s groaning whilst giving all its gravity to set you once more in motion, making you feel like a dependent child to its generosity, living amongst its gaze of irresistibility; or you felt disturbed by one misconceived mediating impetuous current ‘s motivation; or you have been peeved by the gust not standing on your side, instead amusing itself be chasing clouds against your scheduled tidal life.
So your announcement of arrival is made in different vocal ranges, sometimes gentle almost quietly, at times raging loudly in unruly waves, and you always bring variations of intriguing things that you have craved and carried with you over the vastness of your journeys to spread them generously, sometimes sight unseen, amongst the shores where you have been.
You carve stones, smooth pebbles, leave crustaceans and asteroidean behind to dry and die, while at the same time you leave beautiful wave shaped patterns of crushed shells, small treasures colourfully intersected by seaweed’s holdfasts, stipes, and blades on your conquered shores like a reflection of an earlier triggered reaction.
While the tide represents your never-ending cyclic rise and fall of your level, and your appearance at no time leaves a place as it was before behind, as you bring things in, but at the same time claim your fair share of everything the land wants or not to spare, to take it back with you into the hemisphere, you teaching us a lesson nature is long familiar with, every reunion comes with a price, so choose wisely whom you might re-invite into the inner circle of your life.
Fenland
Sad to see how you must feel, deprived of your former life, exposed, emaciated over centuries whilst mourning the loss of your comrades, from the lapwing and the snipe’s slender bill’s reflection on your surface in the late setting sky, to the beauty of your beloved violet in her pale bluish to yellowish white complexion to the eye.
Memories and the fragments of your past, surrounding you only to haunt you in the dark, when skeletons of the deceased start to creep across the ebony-coloured peat’s path, and lost souls and their grim spirits make their rounds, yet you can hear their piercing, plaintive sounds.
Your defeat left you incomplete, in forever longing to be reconciled one day with your ancestors’ voices, their fairytale stories, and the familiarity of the touch of their faces on the day they shall return to your wetlands restored home.