personal

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the scent of silver

a band of pale grey wraps around my wrist
a band that moves and glows with life
shimmering, twisting, sliding down
against the bones of my hand

when turned between fingers and thumb
the metal warms, the light brightens
and I shift sideways
and all is light and warm
and time is younger
and skin is softer

the band of silver sings
and I am filled with the scent
of winter frost on southern thyme
and summer-dry grass beside the lake
and your hair freshly washed
and raspberries crushed between your fingers

 

daily prompt – describe the scent of silver – from Sarah Selecky https://www.storyisastateofmind.com/

I love these prompts, although I’m never organised enough
to work on them daily as is intended.
They trigger all sorts of associations and memories and ideas
that are unexpected, and usually welcome.

©clairegriffin2017

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your hands

1/
when you would rub your hands together
as if they were cold
the strange tension and then release
and the way your face would screw up
and then relax into one of your glorious smiles
your nails curved over the ends of spatulate finger tips
a cigarette held loosely between two fingers
palm up, hand bent at the wrist, while you talked
strong hands, capable, practical, tender

2/

when you rolled a cigarette
when you used both hands
to gather your dark heavy hair
and lift and twist it up
and away from your face
fingers stained with paint
long, slender, graceful, the colour of weak coffee

3/

when your hands gather tomatoes
or test the weight of cucumbers
I see the knuckles enlarged with age
the scar on the side of your thumb
the clean, neat nails

these hands would have held me once
when I was a baby, a tiny child
they would have lifted me and felt my weight

and when we are gathering lemons
and you are passing them to me
you pass all the times you held my hand
stroked my hair, and tucked me in close beside you

your hands have been open ever since
waiting for mine to close over them

Writing prompt from Sarah Selecky:
“write a list of times you remember staring at someone’s hands”.
https://www.storyisastateofmind.com/

These are my memories of three special people.

©clairegriffin2017

 

 

 

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dreams of – heritage and challenge and change

Thinking about dreams…

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What does it mean when you meet someone in a dream, you learn their name, their job, develop friendship. They are interested in who you are, they look at your writing.

They asked me a question I can’t remember fully – but I know it was a challenge of sorts – “so if you have this Scottish heritage why are you still writing …?” I can’t remember the rest of their question, but I know I countered with “…and the Irish”. We were looking at handwritten text and in the dream I could read it – but have no idea now what was written.

We sit looking at the dark sky filled with multiple crescent moons and stars and I say, “on nights like this I can’t imagine there being anywhere better – but maybe its time to leave…” and we agree to move away.

It really is like living another life…

Thoughts:

  • heritage
  • challenge
  • change

 

 

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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

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stepping through

don’t let me know when you’re opening the door
close me in the dark, let me disappear
this time tomorrow I’ll know what to do

soon there’ll be nothing left of me
nothing left to release
who can I be now?

I don’t know who I am
here, there’s no music here
I’m lost in streams of sound

here, am I nowhere now?
everything has changed
it’s the beginning of nothing

the trees die standing
the night was always falling
I’m walking down

it’s nothing to me, nothing remains
I don’t stand in my own light
there will be no tomorrow

I’m stepping through the door
and the stars
look very different today

©arrangement-clairegriffin2017 (all text by DB)

Ever since the beginning of last year, I’ve been meaning to make a found poem using lyrics by David Bowie. So this year, I committed to getting it done. This poem is not what I expected – I was imagining something strange and wild and colourful – but I kept being drawn to these words. Natural enough I suppose, since I started this just a day or two after the anniversary of his passing.

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Low – I think this was the first Bowie album I bought – quite possibly based on the cover alone. I thought he was just the most beautiful creature I’d ever seen. Then I worked backwards, buying everything I could find. I watched his music videos, and the movies he was in, and I marvelled at his ability to transform, to use costume and makeup and gesture to convey different personalities.
His work helped this shy, insecure 18 year old to recreate herself, and showed her how to use appearance as a tool to enter into the world. I’ve remembered that ever since, that transformation is possible, that our selves are fluid and we can present ourselves to the world in different guises.
And, that the confidence gained from that can then begin to re-work the inner self.
Thank you with all my heart – starman, bluebird, Mr Jones xxx

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darker (r.i.p. L.Cohen, sincerely)

tears fly
like a thousand birds
into a midnight sky

I hold your voice
in the palm of my hand
my skin vibrates
with every breath

your words surround me
confront and shelter
the essence of what it means to be male
expressed in every husky rumble
and nuanced vowel
my very bones are shaking
as your low tones reverberate, resonate

my dreams are waking
from the dread I’ve carried
that you’d soon be gone

its been nothing but rain and fog
for two whole days
while you climbed the stairs
to your tower of song

I’ve lit a candle
I’ll keep it burning
I don’t want it any darker

©Claire Griffin 2016

 

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broken glass

 

today was a stormy day of the heart
needing to move, to put distance
between my heart, my soul
and my daily life

standing on the rocky edge
looking out to sea
watching the waves coming
inexorably into shore

rock pools beckoned and I walked further out
looking through still water with a surface like glass
starfish and sea lettuce, neptune’s necklace and limpets
patiently waiting for the incoming tide

but the calm waters didn’t match
the turmoil I felt
the waves of emotions
needed something stronger

when sudden unexpected rain
struck intensely from behind
choosing not to run, I was drenched in seconds
standing still, with one hand holding back my hair

I stood and watched
as heavy rain broke the surface
all life beneath now an impressionist’s dream
then, just as quickly, rain stops and ripples spread and settle

when the liquid glass shattered
I drank the fragments
they cut through anger to release the tension
touching the wet rocks, I am centred in this turbulent landscape

I am the rain, the rocks, the fragile sea-life
I am the squally wind
heart-settled, soul-free

I watch the sea birds
ride the updrafts
and wish I had wings

©Claire Griffin 2016

Reading Tyler’s poem “Drop by drop” and discovering the lines
“All my worries fall away, I am a storm cloud”.
They seemed to express perfectly how I was feeling today.
Entering the landscape always helps me recover equilibrium,
but it took becoming part of the storm for it to work today.
The land reflected my feelings back to me,
and then I was able to release them.
Thanks for the inspiration Tyler 🙂
https://tylerpedersen02.wordpress.com/2015/12/13/drop-by-drop/

 

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fortress

I can carry my own inner child
I can protect and reassure
and love her

but I cannot carry yours as well
you need to heal your own child

you left her alone, crying
into the emptiness, waiting
to be heard, to be held in love

you erected barriers
to keep you both safe
but these kept everyone
at a distance

and now, no matter how much
attention she is given
she will not be
silenced

you are a fortress
harbouring a
crying child

 

© Claire Griffin 2016

And with this, in those last three line, I finally formed a metaphor to describe and explain the behaviour of someone once near to me. Moving past my own hurt and anger, I found something like understanding, almost compassion. But the fourth line holds true – I cannot hold someone else’s pain. I am not responsible for it, and I do not have the answers.

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distance

there was always a distance

between us
a space I tried to cross
to reach you

I was alone
I sought your approval
thinking it was love

but now

I walk alone
crossing a bridge of my own making
to a place of my choosing

I don’t need you
to be on the other side

I am complete

© Claire Griffin 2016

This is the shortest edit I can make of a piece written in September. I find I am still processing the events and subsequent realisations from the end of last year. A massive emotional blow that led to the reassessment of a key person in my life and everything I thought I knew about my childhood.

I’ve been writing about these experiences over the last few months, and I hoped I had “dealt” with it all, but these thoughts keep surfacing.

So I hesitated to post this, yet another expression of my personal turmoil. When I shared this hesitation with a friend – she encouraged me to post saying “but you can put into words the things that others can’t – it helps others that you share your feelings” and then I remembered that I’ve always believed the deeply personal can be the most universal – so I trust that there will be something here to connect with.

And I’ll stop feeling I need to make excuses for them. These words are who I am, and who I am becoming. 

Still, while I’m tired of the darkness these pieces contain, writing my way through these feelings has released me, and I feel as though I am an adult at last, although I wish it hadn’t taken so long.

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a list of truths and lies – revealed

A list of truths and lies – I’m wondering now about the information I chose to share, and the lies I chose to tell – one is definitely an unfulfilled wish.

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a list of posts

I tried this list with a couple of friends as well – people who haven’t known me for long – so they don’t know all my history. So interesting to discover what others think might be my truths, my lies – how the person they know now influences their ideas about the person I used to be – that in itself is material for a whole lot of thinking 🙂

This is an effective process for reflecting on the past, bringing back memories, recalling wishes – part nostalgia, part self-discovery – realisation of just how far I’ve come.

Thanks to those who shared their guesses. Now – time to reveal my lies.

  1. I am an only child (true)
  2. I have three tattoos (its a lie – but I’m thinking about it)
  3. I’ve worked as a graphic designer (true – when I took off from NZ and landed in London I was lucky to quickly “fall into” a job with a wonderful classic designer – I learnt such a lot working with him)
  4. I’ve read “Ulysses” cover to cover (its a lie – Ulysses is one of those books I thought I ought to read – tried the first few pages – but just couldn’t stick with it – maybe its time to try again)
  5. I didn’t go to university until my 30s (true – I hated high school/college – and wanted to get as far away from schooling as possible – I left knowing I was intelligent – but no way of “proving” it since I failed nearly every exam in sight – I had become cynical and disillusioned by the “system” – the irony of what I’ve ended up doing the last few years isn’t lost on me)
  6. I’ve only ever been to one rugby game (true – and it was possibly the most boring experience of my life – I made the mistake of going along with something a guy wanted to do instead of saying “hmm – no”)
  7. I used to drive a big Toyota Landcruiser (true – so great for making other drivers get out the way – and for surprising people when I jumped out of my old truck in my gorgeous girly prime)
  8. I got my drivers licence on the first attempt (its a lie – from memory it took three attempts to pass the practical – I was too young, too nervous)
  9. I wanted to be a psychologist or a vet when I was a teenager (true – but this was before I discovered how much maths was involved, and how my brains turned to porridge when faced with exams – see number 5)
  10. I’ve seen “Stalker” by Tarkovsky three times, and enjoyed it (true – what more can I say – this film is very slow – and friends I persuaded to watch it with me have been less than impressed – but it has some of the most beautiful scenes I’ve ever seen – it keeps drawing me back)
  11. I can bake bread without a bread-maker machine, and you would want to eat it (true – my first few attempts were more like bricks – good for door stops – but I couldn’t really cook anything back then – I tried again a few years ago and now I can bring these rounded, crispy crusted golden loaves out of the oven and into the world – to be sliced and slathered with butter)
  12. I used to develop my own black and white photographs back in the days of film (true – I would take over the kitchen – black curtain over the window – working in the dark using touch to feed the film from camera to light-proof tank, and then working in red-light exploring enlargement and cropping and focus and exposure – and getting lost in the magic watching a print develop.

 

Perhaps you would like to try this… I’d be happy to guess your lies 🙂