11 June 2014

Waiting

Sound poem for 'waiting'

Often I look towards you hoping you will be there smiling with crows feet
Eyes sparkling happy to know I am there searching
Shielding sun from my face and allowing the wind to kiss me swiftly
Over the horizons I gaze into distances I stand
Hand shadowing my eyes in a casual salute that's comforting
Expectantly I wait with a secure surety 
I know you will be there
Despite withering and drowning into the realms of ambivalence 
At times falling and sinking the pavement becoming quick sand
I wait for you 

Always you are there watching at a standstill and abiding 
Guarded stiffly ready on full alert 
Demanding respect and attention but especially some acknowledgement
For being there always hidden in the penumbra 
You wait for moments where you offer some guidance and comfort
Assured security you be
You wait

Bringing to remembrance the times when it was clearly you 
That took control intervening appropriately
Working and moving behind the scenes with a mental nimbleness
My supersonic hero
Promptly coming to the rescue 


Bringing to me a deeper insight of things
Or just doing what you do best and defend me in the spiritual
Generally I do not notice at first
But as weeks and months fly by I look back and reflect
Pressing play and rewind
Thankfully it was you that was there waiting
Just for me.



Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)


12 May 2014

Tea and Park and Me At Eight




A few weeks ago I soaked up the sunny warmth in a park that was my childhood stomping ground.  With a cup of roobis tea in my hand, a book to flick through and be inspired by, I take in, in its entirety, my views of Acton Park (W3, London). I am taken back in time to twenty years ago and I am amazed at how just being here with its sights and smells unlocks files of memories.

This park has a special place in my heart and I can't help but feel a love connection, a type of home sickness that can be described as time sickness. The long summer days spent here when the days just dragged on and on. The soon-to-be-faded photos in 80's colour that sleep in albums creased by too many page turns. The change I have seen over the years with the various landscapes, the removal of dangerous old skool playground equipment for something brighter and new, and the different people that breeze through eventually making Acton their home. 

I miss my childhood years and strangely wish I could relive a day or two; savouring the moment and pushing a new burst of life into a stale memory. I often think about the things I would change about my childhood and there isn't really anything. My childhood made me the person I am today and that isn't one thing I would not want to change. Below is the poem I wrote on this sunny warm day.

I love you Acton Park and I love the childhood memories you bring...


At eight 

consumed in the world of childhood memory
flash backs
I sit quietly and patiently letting them be
Like breathing for the very first time
It's different and seems new this time round
I notice things I haven't seen or felt before
the patterns that gracefully embrace my dress
my socks they are odd, slightly, white knee highs
and I thought I came here with another friend
I had vaguely pictured blond hair not auburn brown

I see me at eight running around 
waving laughing plaits galore dancing smiling in all directions 
uncertain as to which way the hairstyle should flow 
I wave back and say 'Hi' and the eight year old me runs away embarrassed at the interaction
the swings is the place I should be

I sadly remember and yearn to relive my eight year old self
Just for a day or two
or those key moments that are reference points in my time line
I sit and smile to myself
happy with this place
peering into the grassy distance
I see me at eight fading silently away




22 March 2014

I Write...



Amongst the cries and shouts of chidren invading my writting cave I write
They are in here and they should'nt be, but still I have five mintues or so, so I write
Despite not knowing if writting would take me places and 
I suspose that is the adventure 
Not knowing where it leads and what doors open by continuously
Trying to fulfill my dreams
I write
And yes I do sit and daydream of going somewhere making some money and 
Publishing a book or two
But I am content even if the places I go to is just in my mind
Just those feelings of happines because I just enjoy what I do  
I write and enter realms of unknown and let my creativity flow for my own enjoyment I know
I don't even know if the stuff I write on my blog reaches anywhere or if people feel inspired and
Connect with that side of me I sometimes hide from the world because its personal
I just write for the fun of it and
In those moments of saddeness and there have been many I engulf myself with paper and pen
Or glide my fingers on a touchscreen 
Or stamp out tap tapping beats into silence and 
Get those thoughts out with tears and prayers
And let my pen bleed
I am not ready to show those poems to the world they stay locked away in my intimate space
In the place that belongs to me and me alone
Still I write
And I am excited by the different parts of me and
Finally after years I have found me and my creative writing identity
Fitting together in me like pieces of a puzzle
A part of me like the back bone that holds me
Just for the sake of it I write...


Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

08 March 2014

International Women's Day: My Tribute

It's another year and another International Women's Day - 'inspiring change' is this years theme. A change in this unequal world where women's equality is of unimportance in many parts. A change to the violence against women. A time for change and for people of power to promote and motivate a change. When I think of celebrating women's achievements I think of those who have suffered and have overcome. Who have - despite the hardships and the trauma they have been through - have been able to rise, to be an inspiration to others and kick sand in the eyes of those who tried to sit them permanently onto the seat of oppression. A place where the oppressor  tries to take control of their mind, body and soul.


Women across this world have been able to rise and a poem from one of my favourite poets Maya Angelou  fits this years theme of 'inspiring change' and my own sub-theme 'women rising'. The poem is called 'Still I Rise' and it has been an honour for me to create this sound poem.

Last year I read 'Possessing the Secret of Joy' by Alice Walker. In an author's note at the end of this book, Alice Walker writes that between ninety million and one hundred million girls and women alive today have undergone the procedure Female Genital Mutilation (FGM). Reading this book was an emotional journey for me, I have been aware of FGM for many years, but have never read a novel where it was the theme. It left my heart in tears for a very long time and encouraged me to do further research. It is time for a change amongst particular groups of people, a change of so-called tradition and for the voices of these women imprisoned in these groups to be heard. Victims of FGM I hear you! This is my shout out against FGM!


Sound poem for Lesser Woman

Lesser Woman 

Amongst the cries of death that sat smoking fags on the winds that blew through
In between the screams
Minor unwelcoming pauses offer no comfort as mind lose consciousness
Blank void empty vacant
Dead to the world switched off it seems
Detached forcefully removed from current reality
Although not oblivious to the pain that became
That ripped through with rage every nerve and tissue and skin and flesh and
Veins pumped filled with red blood
It sprayed and splattered and soaked and flooded
It dripped loud like thunder and shook that bloody hut

Every drop of blood that fell made me become less
A lesser girl a lesser female a lesser woman
Genderless a lesser sex by those considered to be a greater
A place stuck in the realms, in the middle of male and female
I am nothing it seems
An unwanted spot on flawless skin
To be plucked like female chin hair
Soon no longer two mouths but one through which I scream and I scream and I scream
Palms hold me down
Arms push my legs open wide
Eyes avoid locking with mine

Human flesh became a fish gutted by fish monger hands
They cut me they gutted me
Meat cattle a lamb to the slaughter
Shove me into a burger and you sell me like the junk food you think I am
Even a rat won't sniff me won't give me a second glance
They'll just walk right over that piece of me you threw out in the yard

They cut me
And celebrated the fact that they cut me
Under the banner of tradition superstition
The suffering of the girls and woman a taboo not to be told
Whispered in nightmares mutilation flashbacks
The attack on the very thing that makes me a woman
With a swift movement of the blade I became a lesser woman



Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

28 February 2014

My Writing Cave

I just thought I'll introduce you to my writing cave - a nickname I shamelessly stole from a writer on Twitter (Oleander Plume). This is the place where I enter my writing bubble to lock myself away from the world to write - well work on my book idea. I can write poetry in the other areas of my home, amongst all the noise and madness.

Since having a dedicated writing space the motivation to write and, as Nike would say 'just do it!' Has been surprisingly easy - with encouragement from other fellow writers, who have also given me kicks up the backside. Not to mention a real heart to heart with God regarding another commitment of my writing. My dreams, inspiration, gift or talent or whatever you want to call it must come from somewhere right? One thing I have realised is that the more I spend time to write the more I wanna write and the creative juices flow much more...

I feel accountable to this corner of my bedroom and quite protective when it gets invaded by items of clothing, random toys or books or stuff that needs to be sorted out later but for now would rest on my desk! Aarrgghhh!  

Anyway, this is my space, my writting cave!

23 February 2014

Sky High aka I Am Flying High


This poem/ spoken word piece is quite unique as I wrote this to a track produced by DJ Maintain, I haven't written a poem to a track for a very very long time. It was love at first listen and after months of stopping and starting the creative flow, hence it took me ages to complete (just too many distractions), I finally finished it! 


Now who once told me that I could be all that I want to be
That I can aim high in the sky
And look down from the clouds
And not be put down or looked down upon
Like a human watching an ant passing by
Or frowned upon like I’m just an add on
Something last thought about
A full stop before my name Traysi
An added extra like .com
See you later it’s the brake light
The last in the queue and
The last pick for the team
The third friend that’s last to be left behind
No that’s not me
For I am aiming high to the point of losing all recognition
In the process of a metamorphosis  
People stand muttering shading the sun from their eye
Is it s bird, is it a plane
No its just me flying by
Taking forward talents
No longer am I letting life stamp out dreams from newborn
Formed in the womb are my ambitions
Formed in the womb are my ambitions

Missions to be fulfilled
Destinies to be written
Tracing footstep prints along faint lines of pre-ordained decisions
Pre-written storylines
Making history by carving my life story on tree trunks
Lasting for generations and generations and generations
I was created to do something great
I was made and molded like play dough
Sealed with the stamp of the Holy Spirit glow
The seed of me was planted a long time ago
And I stand here today bearing fruit
And I stand here today understanding the importance of my existence
I am a part of the bigger picture
Like the smile on the Mona Lisa
I can never understand fully all things that are in-store
I have to keep on walking along paths of direction
Accept every opportunity with love and affection
I get satisfaction from pleasing the Most High
It is time for me to fly high


Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

17 February 2014

The Coffee Shop Writer


Today I sat in a coffee shop in London waiting for a friend who was late. Opposite me sat a man writing so I did what any other writer would do... allowed myself to be inspired by the moment and wrote a poem about him.

Sound Poem for The Coffee Shop Writer

The Coffee Shop Writer

Deep in thought as pencil caresses paper with words
The brushing of grey into curves
He writes posed with a frown
Sometimes the words flow they tumble out
Hastily no pauses they fight for white space
A sip of his coffee
A glance of his space
He stops and stokes his chin with the palm of his hand
Time to think what is missing
That's it and he continues
Flowing smoothly out of mind
He writes
The coffee shop writer

Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

15 February 2014

Love poem #1: I love you

I watched your lips move slowly
Parted you spoke softly at first
Unknowingly I held my breath hoping
Wondering what words you would say
Thinking its unimportance I let my mind wonder
Surprisingly the sky looked grey in mid August
And the park was strangely empty for a Saturday
The ducks in full swing attacking the bread thrown on the water...
Unexpectedly something you said brought  me back into our personal bubble
I stare at you
You smile and say it again... I love you.


Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

14 February 2014

Love poem #2: Are you...

Last night I made a commitment to the day of love and said today I would right poems about love. Here is number three.

Are you...

Adored are you and sort after is your pressence diluted into mine
Favored are you and like the sun circling the world you surround me with warmth
Beautiful are you and every inch of you pleases me and makes me smile
Addictive are you and where ever I go I need you by myself keeping me close
Loveable are you and you make it so easy for me to love you and know you love me too
Mine are you and that knowledge I hold dear hugging it snuggle until the day I pass away




Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

Love poem #3: Soul Mate Silence

Another poem for Valentine's Day (14th Feb), strangely therapeutic writting these love poems.

Sound Poem for the Soul Mate Silence

Soul Mate Silence

The silence engulfed us during the communication pauses
I expected the awkwardness to consume us
It didn't
It just felt like a full stop
Like you took a deep breath
On paper it's where the comma would be
You smiled I smiled
You blinked I blinked
Your fingers curled around mine
I watched your hand consume me
Then the steam that danced from my mug
Still there was no speech
A white butterfly fluttered through the crowd and landed near our table
We were distracted for a split second
And in the moment of speechless bliss
I knew you were my soul mate




Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

13 February 2014

Time to make poetry about love

Check out @TraysiSpeaks's Tweet: https://twitter.com/TraysiSpeaks/status/434094052125200384
Just thinking of ways to more time in my day... Think my commute would be handy to write something for Valentine's day.

10 February 2014

Mae Meets Rich


This is just a little something I wrote a while back and found it recently. I was just experimenting with different writing styles and I liked this as it flowed easily - a quick read that doesn't involve a lot of thinking! For those who want to be lazy and just escape...

Mae Meets Rich

Mae felt out of her depth. She yearned to be back in her comfort zone and feel in control of every situation, a place where surprises did not exist.
Friends used to call her Mystic Meg as she had a sixth sense ability of knowing what people would say, their reactions to every circumstance and how the story ends. She was good and she knew it. Mae was the one who jumped at every opportunity to be spontaneous and care free, living life with no expectations and doing what the hell she wanted. She was the one who went backpacking by herself to remote parts of Kenya, who moved in with a man after a week just because he did amazing Arnie expressions and after finally accepting her outrageous red hair, she spent a year dying it various rainbow colours. This was all in her 20’s.
Mae’s 30’s were non memorable with a string of mundane relationships, unexpected disappointments and the dreaded bingo arms syndrome. It was a decade where her facial muscles forgot how to form a smile and at the end of every sentence was a frustrated sigh.
By the time Mae reached 40 she felt past her sell by date and was afraid of being considered a member of mutton-dressed-as-lamb anonymous group. A week after her birthday she promptly brought a new wardrobe, one suitable for the confident-sexier-middle-aged-woman. Keeping a brave face during the shopping excursion she returned the plastic smiles of the big-busted-small-waist shop assistants. They really annoyed her and were a painful reminder of her long lost youth.
At the end of the day Mae had collapsed on the floor in a tearful heap. She was barely through the door and did not hear the soft padded footsteps or see the tiger print shopping trolley parked in the hallway.
“What’s d’matter luv?” Mum had let herself in, again.
Mae moaned. This was one of those moments where she regretted giving her a spare key. “Oh mum it’s awful,” she shrieked, “my life is over, I’m now 40 and everyone knows it!”
            Mum chuckled, almost dropping her cup of tea. She bent down and gently patted Mae’s red curls, an attempt to bring comfort whilst neatening the hairy mess. “It’ll be ‘right luv, you’ll see.”
It wasn’t all right, the grey cloud stayed and it was a wake up call when one day she didn’t recognise the desperately pasty skinned woman in the bathroom mirror. That was the same day she decided she needed to find a man and www.nicetomeet.com promised her one.
           
*

It took ages getting ready that morning, a lot longer than usual. Rich’s fashion sense was simple – only black, grey and white clothing made it into his wardrobe – yet choosing an outfit was difficult. After starring into his wardrobe for what seemed liked an eternity, he closed his eyes, grabbed a top and a pair of bottoms, looked in the mirror and was happy with his choice.
He flossed his pearly whites until the floss turned pink, shaved his face until it was smooth as a baby’s bottom and carefully trimmed his ear hair with experienced precision, using pointed nail scissors. The hairs were not that long, their existence just annoyed him. He always thought about Grandad Frank’s bush that grew from both ears and his chest hair that blended into his beard. Rich was determined never to be like that; he hated hair and didn’t give a monkeys if some people thought hair equalled masculinity.
A girlfriend who – once they became serious – after four months of casual dating decided to foolishly initiate a conversation about changing his look. She even had the audacity to show him a glossy women’s magazine with rugged male models and over exposed body hair sprouting out of private places like fresh blades of grass. Rich didn’t know what was worst, that she felt the need for a cave man or that she was comparing him to sexy tanned men.
Rich eased his blue Fiesta out the drive and hoped for a manic-free journey. Lately he’d gotten tried of unsmiling faces frustrated with unmoving traffic and being on the receiving end of road rage that always left him feeling like a battered punch bag – he hated conflict and avoided it at every opportunity. London does that to people, makes them unreasonable, miserable and down right rude, Rich was determined that nothing was going to spoil his day. The pretty blond nicked named ‘Sunshine’ was waiting and willing to meet him.
*

The meeting place was a bit unusual. The 10k fun run for people with disabilities at Hyde Park was not Mae’s idea of a romantic hot spot. She hated Central London, the chattering crowds, the city noise, the retching collage of unrecognisable smells, all things she tried to avoid.
The rendezvous bench near the finish line was damp. Mae sat down and pinned a white carnation to her jacket collar. ‘Mister Tall’ gave no details of what he would be wearing but thankfully Mae remembered to stuff his profile photo in her bag. He was absolutely gorgeous, she loved his neatly designer trimmed beard and olive complexion. She thought about how she was going to explain her changed appearance; the photo she uploaded onto her profile was not her, hopefully he hated blondes and would find her charming.
Mae felt like a mug. Over an hour went by and the cabbage smelling old man next to her was not ‘Mister Tall’. To make matters worse she felt the 40’s grey cloud creeping up on her and she did not want to get all emotional in public. She threw the photo and white carnation into the bin beside her. She hoped he did not receive the messages she left on his phone, it went straight to voicemail and it was probably switched off. Mum did warn her about meeting strange men off the ‘net’ – like she understood what the ‘net’ was – but there weren’t any warnings about being stood up and hating it. Cabbage man smiled a toothless grin at her as she got up; she nodded a goodbye avoiding eye contact in case he got the wrong impression and followed her.
The eye-catching stalls intended to support the 10k event were inviting and despite Mae’s mood she couldn’t resist the sweet temptation of a coffee and cake. A stall towered by huge umbrellas and cramped with comfy sofas and tables seemed a popular choice.

*

Rich was late; his journey was a nightmare. He was unsure what was worst, that some idiot knocked a cup of coffee over his phone when paying for petrol or the accident on the A40 that left a lengthy trail of snail moving cars. He thought his luck had changed when he found parking straight away but when he got to the bench where Sunshine was meant to be – it was empty

*

Mae was so preoccupied with eating and drinking that it took her awhile to notice the handsome man in a wheelchair wanting to park his self at her table. He asked if anyone was sitting here.
            “Nope, it’s all yours, let me move this from here,” replied Mae. She picked up the rubbish from the table and chucked it away. “It’s a nice event isn’t it?” she continued.
            “Yeah, I come here every year”.
            “Do you take part or just watch?”
            “Used to race years ago, was meant to meet someone here but it got cancelled,” shrugged the man.
            Mae and the man continued talking until a waiter interrupted them and placed a drink and muffin on the table.
            “Here you go Rich, just how you like it,” said the waiter.
            “Thanks mate,” turning to Mae, “sorry… I’m Rich,” laughed Rich.
            “And I’m Mae, nice to meet you,” mockingly Mae stretched out her hand towards him, they shook hands.
            “So what brought you here Mae?”
            “I was meant to meet someone too.”

Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)



03 February 2014

You


I said “hello” when you starred right at me
You smiled and nodded my heart skipped a beat
There was something about you
That curve in your smile
The way your eyes creased when you winked
The strand of hair that dangled kissing your ear

You looked familiar

The moment I saw you I knew I knew you
Maybe a faded memory from my childhood
Or I glanced your photo somewhere I can’t recall

I was so glad I met you

The other night you called me out of my sleep
Sleepy eyed mind weak I listened to your stories
You refused coffee whilst I had a least two
My head snuggled my pillow at 4 am
I didn’t mind I had no plans for tomorrow
I never have plans
And love letting the days sail by

I told you about the doctors and the pills
And the white walled room
And the times when everything was grey
I didn’t know if I was coming or going
I barely knew my name
You responded like you understood and knew where I was coming from
Like you’ve walked that road before
You frowned when I frowned
You cried when I cried
Wherever I went you followed

Everything changed the day I met you

They labelled me crazy and said I should be locked up
That’s how I heard it anyway
I didn’t care
All I wanted was you and our endless conversations

It was a brilliant idea when you said I should place mirrors in every room
Now you are with me your reflection I see every minute of my day



Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)


27 January 2014

Elsewhere


Elsewhere

I say goodbye and leave to a place of elsewhere
Dissimilar to the here and now smells
The laughter I am use too
The historical tongues and rhythms of kinsfolk
Wrinkled with wisdom and time

A tear escapes and is quickly brushed away
An expression of strength replaces the one reflecting sadness
I turn away thinking I can do this

Somewhere a distance from home
Where faces blur into one race
Faced am I with new beginnings and learning
A culture almost malevolent

Childlike I approach
Unaware how to act
Or react to situations unknown
Confidence fallen I have none
Once so strong now consumed with weakness
I kiss a farewell to my family dreams

Distant home of mine
A memory of past living
Where the ‘here’ has transformed into the ‘there’
No longer the ‘now’

Forgiven I hope from my ancestors
For leaving the land of my birth
 I shall never see you again

(Submitted to Centre of migration, policy and society (COMPAS) poetry Competition 2013



Copyright © 2014 Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks) 
All rights reserved. No portion of this post may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or by otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)