I can feel her hands rest calmly on my shaking shoulders
The tension taking twists and turns under my skin
She softens the swirling subtleties of storms fluttering against my ribs
It’s a weightless warmth working itself into my breath, out and in
Who is she? She is you.
She is comfort, she is compassion, she is caring and she is kind
I can feel her arms reach around my shoulders
Each and every second elongated, encased in her energy
She stifles the screams that scratch and scurry through my blood
In a flicker of fondness, the furnace I’m fighting finally sets me free
Who is she? She is you.
She is a memory, she is a moment, she is magical and she is mine
…But all in all she is a personification of love, of feeling loved mid crisis, each and every time
Thank you, to each of you.
It’s not okay to just grab us,
Not okay to wade on in,
To pace and parade across our path,
With hard eyes and a lecherous grin.
It’s not okay to run your hand down our backs,
Not okay to pull our clothes.
To laugh and taunt when we pull away,
With your un-daunted hopes.
It’s not okay to jeer and jaunt,
Not okay to ignore our protests to go.
To keep pushing, grabbing and calling out,
With no regard for our unanimous “no”.
This is a message to the men,
Who do this again and again,
Not a generalisation as a whole or a slight –
To the boys who cause fear,
Whilst we’re frozen over the years,
Feeling powerless to stop this or to fight.
It’s not okay, to protest that clothes provoke this,
Not okay, this obnoxious, invasive abuse;
With this kind of man, being predatory –
Can seem to use gender as an excuse.
It’s not okay, that this is okay.
Not okay that you’re all content with your choices,
To keep imposing your desires on us, as-and-when,
With no consequence, landing us with no voices.
The mirror shard glistens
Calling to my inner darkness
As a whole, the cause of so many questions
As a part, the subduing of so much pain
The silver shimmers
Calling to my inner darkness
As a whole, it consumes and overwhelms
As a part, it causes distrust and shame
The darkness echoes
Calling to the shard of light
As a whole, it is somehow poetical
As a part, it is somewhat the same
The shard beacons
Calling to something bigger than me
Hoping to make sense of the pain
As a whole, causing friction and anger
As a part, adding clarity – much in vain,
Make it real,
Give it a voice,
Make me feel,
Take away choice,
Use the beauty of the solid silver river
That cuts through falseness like a charm
To reflect the pain that’s intangible
And give me the power over my demons to disarm
Seeing people who don’t hear you
Fading out as soon as other start to hit their stride
Your heart beat deafening you
With the agony of passing time
Talking with a voice that won’t carry
Dissolving into the air as soon as they’re formed
Lungs as flighty as a hummingbird
When you feel constricted and realisation dawns
Being in places that you don’t fit
Breaking the mould by simply breathing the air
Bones aching to be somewhere known
As you decide that you’re not goin’a care
Something inside you begins to burn bright
As you realise the fear makes you want to take flight
Simultaneously your choice as certain as a storm
Says no more to ghosting, time for a new norm
You take a deep breath feeling ghost’ed like before
To take a minute, call it out… not now, and no more.
Meisner’s approach to design written by Jo Hopkins
“Meisner’s approach is a technique which champions a ‘free-writing’ style of exploration…”
Whether you’re blitzing through sketches of interface interactions or hastily scribbling voice interactions for an ambient device, see if the Meisner approach can help you iterate initial thoughts faster and explore more, or even new, possibilities.
A silence so heavy and hollow
It can wrap it’s fingers around your heart
Reaching through the inner shouts
And tormented voices
A silence so thick and empty
It can wrap itself around your mind
Reaching through to highlight the doubts
And question all your choices
The difference between lonely and alone
Is that silence you feel when all voices are gone
It’s that intrinsic belief you will always be one
The isolation is in your bones, as this heart-gripping silence becomes your home
Sometimes it’s the small things
The suspension of attention
When a screen is more interesting than you
When the laugh is somehow disconnected
The look is skips a beat and no longer lingers
When the fondness is still there but distracted
And those small things
Combined with a name
A glance at the wrong moment
Hold your breath
Feel the kiss
And then the truth
Continue reading “Drifting”
There’s a moment, an unquantifiable measure of sound,
of time, of intention and of desire
Where a heart-skip descends into a heart-break
Or a heart-break lifts to a heart-skip; like fire.
Take that ghostly uncertainty by the hand and be found,
in that moment, that heart-beat, that breath
Where first-love descends into love-lost
Or love-lost gives live to new-love; what’s next?
To take chance by the horns, leap into that heart-beat-skip-break
And know that this chance on your secret love, was your chance to take.
Stifled and stilted like your words as you untangle
to make sense of the metaphors by which your muse is strangled.
Continue reading “Skip, breathe, leap”
Having been surprised by an invite to join some friends this evening to see Quartet at the Cheltenham Everyman Theatre I’m delighted to say I was not disappointed. The lighthearted and joyous delivery of this show performed with beautifully on point comic timing and some beautiful one liners thrown with stunning comic confidence – from both Wendi Peters and Paul Nicholas – was truly enjoying to watch.
The set was gorgeous and invited you to feel the stature of these four characters’ environment, you could almost smell the rich age of the wood panelling within which they sat and feel the subtle breeze that could be seen gently waving the thin curtains like gossamer threads. It certainly painted a contented picture.
The use of architecture was very homely, you felt the comfort the three, more long term characters had in their new surroundings, but not without their own personal physical discomforts.
Continue reading “Quartet – a theatrical review”
A silence so thick, so deafening
I can feel it closing in around my cage
The cage supposing to protect my heart
The silence stifles as I force my breath to engage
A silence too cold, like lightening
I can feel it’s breath taking hold of my heart
The breath supposing to offer a beat of peace
Where my breath stutters, Silence’s breath starts