Poetry

I love poetry. I used to write alot of poetry but over the last couple of years I write once every 6 months. Recently my love for it has been rekindled. It moves me in a way that I cannot explain. I used to be part of the dance team at my church and it was always a dream of mine to dance to someone reciting a poem. Wouldn't that be beautiful:)

I am also falling more and more in love with art. I dont know but I could sit and stare at a piece for ages and marvel at the different textures, use of colours, shades and space.

I have had this poem in my heart for the last week now. Its so powerful.

Louis MacNeice - Prayer before Birth

I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
     club-footed ghoul come near me.

I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
     with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
        on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.

I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
     to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
        in the back of my mind to guide me.

I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
     when they speak me, my thoughts when they think me,
        my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
           my life when they murder by means of my
              hands, my death when they live me.

I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
     old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
        frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
            waves call me to folly and the desert calls
              me to doom and the beggar refuses
                 my gift and my children curse me.

I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
     come near me.

I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
     humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
        would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
           one face, a thing, and against all those
              who would dissipate my entirety, would
                 blow me like thistledown hither and
                    thither or hither and thither
                       like water held in the
                          hands would spill me.

Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.

Perhaps in future I will post my own poems. We'll see. My poems are intensely personal and hardly ever let anyone read it. Its funny how I can bare my soul on this blog when most people in my life know me to be quite closed off. All I know is that I am lovering this space. My space. I feel like the artist in me is being uncovered. Expression of a battered soul through this medium. Perhaps this poem is so poignant at this point in my life because a new part, the true me is about to be birthed.

Going to Zumba tonight. Its not coming fast enough! SOOOOO excited to shake my ass. Much like Eminem said 'the way you shake it makes my tolly go badoinkdoink' - sick.

I feel like KFC...yummmo

Till later!
xo
Mother Larder