Geometrically Opposed

 
Today one of my poems "High heeled and Gloveless is featured in todays Guardian in an article written by Frances Ryan
http://www.theguardian.com/society/2013/aug/21/postcards-from-edges-disability-mental-health
Some of my poems are written from a disability view point, this is the first one I have included in my blog.

 

To celebrate its 40th anniversary, United Response is running a creative campaign – Postcards from the Edges. Through artwork, poetry, stories, collages or messages, they want people with, or affected by, disabilities to express what is important to them on line – all in the blank space of a postcard.

Find out more about this charity visit http://www.unitedresponse.org.uk/

or submit your own postcard http://www.postcardsfromtheedges.org.uk/


Here is a poem explaining the frustration of not fitting into normal clothes and perhaps helps explain why shoes in my case are so important. Disability and fashion are a  demanding creative challenge

If you like my poems I will be doing my first public reading at the Small Wonder Festival on Friday 27th September at 6.00pm at an event hosted by Lemn Sissay
http://www.charleston.org.uk/whats-on/festivals/small-wonder/events/the-creative-future/

so here finally is a poem!

Geometrically Opposed

(but at least i have the shoes)

 

I am triangular

I wish I was rectangular
My shoulders do not fill my clothes
They pointedly redesign the line
And pull and restyle the garment
Creating an unusual triangle on legs
My hands so high up my body
Standard sleeves left flapping and unfulfilled
Arms never satisfying armholes
Leaving public private underwear
Sleeveless me is unacceptable
It upsets the ego
Unless the weather overheats me
To a state of carefree abandon
 

I am disabled I hate shopping

In the confines of the short sleeved market
I am female I love shopping
I am tempted into the green nirvana
Wakley, Chanel, Givenchy, Armani
I try on my heart's desire
Sleeved garments with length and flow
An effortless chic costume
I look so good so so so rectangular
Energised  to a futile purchase,
The image of the triangle momentarily forgotten

 

Of course I can't wear it like this

I want to wear it like this
As it is Unaltered
Have one day of pretence
Stuff the sleeves with cardboard tubes
Go out and glance at reflective surfaces
Admire vainly the rectangular me
But I don't I want to but I don't
It would require someone to come with me
To help me through the restrictions
Of arms and hands trapped in luxury
To involve themselves fully in my fantasy
Is that an oxymoron

 I get the pins out

I get the scissors out
I butcher the beauty of the design
I shorten the sleeves i triangulise
I do all this work still holding the initial image
Admiring my skills as a tailor
Trying on the finished piece
Visually  deceiving  myself
Wandering upstairs
To the fate of the full length mirror
Hoping to see what was seen before
A chic designer clothed rectangle
The reflection harshly dispels make believe
A redesigned woman  A Triangle

Sue Kent 2010

 

A Weekend in Wales

 

The Surrey set are coming to stay

With all their city wealth out on display
Arriving in style in their large four by four
With much braying and greeting and noisy guffaws

The house is up graded for the event

Vases of roses  with their heavenly scent
The wine in the wine rack and food in the fridge
A welcome for those who cross over the bridge

The Collie and Labrador remember they’re chums

Circling each other and sniffing their bums
The teenagers slowly unfold from the car
Designed pants and  handbags saying “Hi Yar”

 Into  the garden for a much needed  drink

The ice in the glasses give a welcoming clink
The sun is still shining up in the sky
Sparkling on diamonds bought from Dubai
 
The wives sit their chatting, both fashionably thin
One does Pilates and goes to the gym
The other does Yoga, salutes to the sun
Crosses her legs and occasionally hums

The credit crunch finally is taking its toll

They haven’t bought Stoli and they haven’t bought Bol
They apologise, the champagne is not vintage fare
As long as it sparkles the hostess does not care

The afternoon turns into evening,  it starts to get dark
The kids with their water pistols having a lark
The barbeque lit and badminton played
The belinis come out, they're already  made

The kids hit  the shuttle cocks in to the hedge

The dogs run amuck through the neat rows of veg
But nobody cares because they all very pleased
To be with their friends that they so rarely see
 

The night passes over and the next day begins

with bacon and eggs and breafasty things
Then off to the beach for a long day of pleasure
They are lucky this time as its very good weather

Eventually the visitors must take their farewell

Forgetting to pack their collected sea shells
The hosts left to the cleaning up after
A small price to pay for a houseful of laughter

 

Sue Kent 2009/2010

Having married a Welshman I left my friends over the bridge, Wales is so beautiful they often come to visit, this poem is an amalgamation of the people, how they are and the things we have done together over the years.

Published in Swansea Evening Post 2011 I think!

Bee Poem

Around my knees

Are many bees

Among lavender flowers

In sunlight hours

Under apple trees

 

Sue Kent

I wrote this poem to save the memory of a sunny August day working in my garden.

I published it on Twitter #twitterpoetry

That same evening by coincidence
BBC 2 horizon highlighted the plight of Bees in the UK with a program presented by Bill Turnball.  What's Killing Our Bees? A Horizon Special http://www.bbc.co.uk/i/b037y0zf/

 

A poem about Rowing

   

Sea Rowing along the cost of Wales in done in Celtic longboats throughout the summer, this poem was done on request for an artist to illustrate her work and sum up the emotions of sea rowing races.

If you live in Swansea and fancy giving it a try visit the Mumbles Amateur Rowing Club http://www.mumblesrowing.co.uk/

 

Three Times Merrily

 

I went to the rowing club to try out for Cox

The first time I went I just had to watch

The sea was to rough for a novice they said

 I sat in the bow and the waves wet my head

 

The crew had big arms and mine are quite small

But that did not matter not one bit at all

They said come again when there's blue in the sky

When the sea is flat calm come out and try

 

So I did in the sun we rowed round the bay

Boat steered by me pulling ropes all the way

Wearing full make up and black ski hat on

Encouraging them "faster" and singing them songs

 

We made a match then and created a team

Mumbles Sea Rowing all eager and keen

Adrenalin Mike and caring calm Chris

Teresa “let's all be happy, that is my wish”

After some practice but not very much

We went for a race to put me in touch

With coxing a team of competitive blokes

Four men in a boat one of them stroke

I try to stay calm but was as nervous as hell

Checking the currents the height of the swell

Out to the start line to jostle for placing

Before I was ready the boats started racing

 

I went round the first buoy and made a mistake

Misjudging the speed and the skill that it takes

In to the back of the slow boat in front

The bow of our vessel bearing the brunt

 

We wanted to win my language was blue

I ran out of polite words and  beasted the crew

Out of my mouth the lashings whipped out.

"Row you f***ers" was all I could shout

 

Nearly all in and my head in a whirl

"Come on now we can beat the Black Pearl"

"Row Mumbles Men pick up some speed"

The oars cut the waves with rhythm and ease

 

Our shoreline support team came in to view

Cheering and filming as the finish horn blew

Four big biceped men all rowing in time

The view from my seat was truly sublime

 

Sue Kent 3/10/20122

    www.welshsearowing.org.uk     

To see the artists work visit  http://www.valerieprice-westceramics.co.uk/ceramic-sculptures/rowing-series                                         

                          

Caswell Bay Poem

Caswell Bay Poem

 

Caswell bay, Gower, Swansea

Dogs are banned from Caswell Bay over the summer period. This was written for my lovely sheep dog Bentley who has sadly now left my side to chase seagulls in the heavens.

B
each Ban

(written from Caswell bay)

 

The seasonal beach ban has ended

October takes control of the year

The dog and I now free to roam

In once forbidden territory

Where land and sea embrace
Released from our annual manacles
In a rush to reunite with the beach

We run across the sand

The sheep dog accelerates leaving my side

Flanking the dogged gulls

Driving them up in to the autumn sky

They ascend with a plurality of movement

That demands still spectators

The instigator of such synchronicity

Barking pointlessly into the wind

Reaching now the old age river spreading aimlessly

Creating a plethora of islands in the sand

Slowing to negotiate nature’s divisive design

We exploit these transient stepping stones

Avoiding the valley waters keeping dry feet

Onwards over virgin sand as the tide withdraws

The end of the bay approaches

To the rocks, the rock, the cardinal touch stone

The turning point of the journey

Now retracing the rhythmically impressed footprints

To start the drudgery of interior life

Injected with irreversible oceanic endorphins

One moves through the hours of the day

With salty skin and wind blown hair

The soul of the sea ensconced and inextricably within

 

S. Kent