Uncategorized

by

the work of bees


The work of bees – these tiny creatures embody the valuable traits of collaboration, perseverance, dedication – they have no words for these things – they simply go out every day to forage and then return home with the raw materials to ensure the future of the next generation. Honey – the sweet product of their work. 

I wonder how much sweetness results from the work I do …

©clairegriffin2017

by

eye to eye

When she was young, she was abandoned,
she was pregnant, she was making do,
wary and opportunistic.

She was found, she was ill, her babies died,
and I had just seen the movie based on the life of Frida Kahlo,
when I saw this small, thin, lost soul in a cage,
for sale, marked down, half price.
Frida she was then, in an instant.

She came home with me.
She was half-wild, wouldn’t be held,
ate fast and then straight outside.
We found she’d made the compost bin her bed.

But she brought us gifts in those early times,
daily mice, some dead, some alive,
and three arranged in the driveway
like an installation artwork.

There was the rat, that looked like someone’s pet.
There was the tui, injured, flapping,
that I drowned in a bucket, while I cried
and she stretched out in the sun

There was the day I realised she was using mirrors
as a way of watching and staying safe.
There was the day she walked into the room and stopped,
and looked, eye to eye, heart to heart.
It proved to me, that patience is worth it, that patience heals.
Two years of waiting evaporated in her eyes.

Today she sleeps.
She sleeps and when she’s not sleeping, she wants to eat.
Having an appetite is a good thing.

And she has developed the habit of scratching the sofa, or trying to.
It’s a dance now, that we both share.
She stretches out a paw and looks my way.
I say no, and her leg lowers. She holds eye contact.
After all these years, she uses her eyes to get what she wants.

I move to the kitchen and squeeze cat food from the packet.
She eats, she climbs on me, and sleeps.

She knows who I am now.
She snores a little
and every breath
is the sound of trust.

Frida

©clairegriffin2017

by

blue

thoughts on the colour blue

I think of water
salt and fresh
rain and wave
spring and snow
I think of tears

the sea is blue
the sky is blue
lakes and rivers and
your eyes are blue

what else?

on my windowsill
my tea caddy, my teapot, a vase
and nestled deep in memory
your willow pattern plates
your cornishware jars
and my eyes and Billy’s eyes
and your eyes
all blue
all together
in a small dark wooden house

blue is the colour of love
and I lose myself
in its deep waters

now, in my garden
there grows borage and thyme
lavender, sage and rosemary
ajuga, hydrangea, lobelia
and delphinium
for years now
I have been cultivating
food for the belly and the eye
for the heart and the soul

it all comes back
to our eyes
the windows to our souls
and all the earth’s water
the eyes of this land
and our blue planet
seen from space
as if the universe was watching
holding one eye closed

©clairegriffin2017

 

 

 

 

 

by

March

Version 2

indulge in the sunlight, accept nature’s gifts
grateful for the positive glorious energy
the earth shares with us

We’ve officially had the worst summer in years – with many places experiencing lower than usual temperatures, rain, and lots of wind. It improved a little during February and has certainly been better the last couple of weeks, so I’m looking forward to more sunshine. Today is the start of Autumn, and we often have some glorious days during this time of year.

Interesting that I chose this photo and wrote this verse back in December, without really thinking about the seasons. But this is exactly what I need now.

©clairegriffin2017

by

red and green

on my doorstep
a brown cardboard box
tied with string

standing in my kitchen
I cut the string
and open the box slowly
lifting away the paper inside

and all is red and green
and smooth and curved and fresh and ripe
skin and leaves
one long green crunch of cucumber
and balls of plump red juiciness

I lift one round red globe
and the sunlight bounces off the surface
five green fingers reach out from the stem
gestures of greeting in the quiet room
I hold it close and there’s the distinctive tang of tomato
the scent of a summer garden

and so much more
I see the hands that lifted each rosy globe
felt the weight and pressed thoughtfully on the skin
the hands that snapped the ripe fruit from the vine
the hands that nestled each one into this box
arranging and rearranging for the perfect fit
I see the hands tying the string
and checking all is secure
hands that reached for me
and held me as gently
as these tender fruits

all acceptance
and generosity
the hands of a gardener
growing love

©clairegriffin2017

by

green

img_5321

your footsteps play
on the skin of the land
as on a drum
I feel the ground vibrate

you are coming

you will lie beneath me
and I will drop
sun-ripened fruits
into your mouth

you will stand still in my arms
as the wind blows around us
I move so slowly
this is how we dance

you will hear me singing to you
while you sleep
I speak so quietly
you can only hear me in your dreams

I am strong and grounded
the one you seek
my roots run deep
my tribe is many

you are a bright brief burst of life
and I am older than your generations
you are constantly astounded
my hair is green
and yet you love me

©clairegriffin2017

by

tears

the blue sea I was born in
has condensed into tears
tears that hold the history
of my ocean birth
tears drying into salt crystals
that crumble between
my roughened fingertips

pomegranate juice trails behind me
my gift to the sea
I bite down hard on the seeds
and crawl across rocks
to reach the shore

and there, as I lie nestled in the sand
schist and quartz pebbles
clutched in my hand
bones bleached white in the sun
I think of you
are your colours so different?

I came ashore
with nothing more
than the skin
my mother dressed me in

do you see?
we are all tears and blood and bone
open the door
take these stones from my hand
hold me and welcome me home

©clairegriffin2017

 

Sorting through some papers I found notes for a poem – at first I had no idea what they were about – though I was fascinated to see my thinking and editing at work while I was writing. Then the words “One Million Poets” registered – and it all made sense.
This was a poem I started at the end of last year/beginning of this – but never finished. Recent events make it so much more relevant. Working closely with the initial notes, these notes became “Tears” – a poem for immigrants, refugees, anyone seeking a home. (I’m intrigued by the cloud formation I unintentionally captured to the left of the poem – what does it look like to you?).

The “One Million Poets” project was begun by World Poetry Open Mic to address “feelings of separation” and to “share messages from the hearts of real people”.

If you’re interested in this, go to the link above, and offer a poem. The following is from their website:

How To Get Involved

  1. Write (or decide to cover) a poem that resonates with you with a some sort of message about community, humanity, and love for all of humankind.
  2. Create a simple video or audio recording of you reading it to the camera. In your video, challenge three other people to do the same within three days.
  3. Upload your video or audio to YouTube (video) or Soundcloud (audio). Make sure to write “One Million Poets” in the title. Also, if you use hashtags, make sure to use #Onemillionpoets in your description and tag section. 

 

So I took the plunge and made a video!

by

February

Preparing for February – finding and maintaining balance will be important as I settle back into work. 


seek balance between earth and sky, light and shade, warm and cool – soar on the updrafts toward your dreams

©clairegriffin2017

Just a note – one or two friends checked in with me recently and I told them – don’t worry – I’m fine. It’s true that I hadn’t been feeling that great for a while at the start of this year. I went quiet for a while and then posted a couple of dark pieces. I go into the dark sometimes – but I’ve learnt to trust myself to re-emerge. I’m not afraid of the dark – and I like to think – the dark – that’s where the seeds start to grow. 

Take care everyone – hoping the next month is good to you xx.