An Update On Me #1

The last 3 - 4 weeks have been quite hectic for me. I am still trying to adjust to having less free time in my life since doing this writing course and having to do homework. I have not written any poetry for a while and feel quite loss since being unable to write down my thinking onto paper or typed onto screen. Especially after an emotionally draining week that has left mentally tired and wanting to sit down and don't get up.One morning I had felt like a time bomb counting down the seconds. I kept thinking about writing a poem called "I am about to explode!" But I did not even have my notebook and pen to jot down a few words.

The writing course - it has been great learning about the theory of writing and understanding how to structure the ideas and the elements to think about when setting a scene, description, conversation and so forth. All very interesting maybe I might think about continuing the study afterwards. The other day I was thinking about the different parts that make up me and the paths I would like to follow regarding my writing. For instance I feel that I am a poet, a spoken word artist, a wannabe novelist.These 3 labels can be broken down further for instance I have loads of children book ideas floating in my head. As well as those for teenagers and poem collections. It just seems so overwhelming at times. And I do wonder how do I have the space within to be all three. Currently my heart aches for just one day a week where I can just write and be. I feel that I need to plan and organise whilst step out in faith. I am sure that time will be created if I just continue to do what I should be doing. I call it "just plodding on"... Doing what you need to be do. And when in the plodding state you can feel as rough as anything and not in the mood for rubbish.. but you just keep on plodding no matter what...

February already feels like a strange month for me. I guess the highs of the new year have faded away and now the real challenge begins. It is also strange as my focus has shifted slightly, actually quite a bit from my poetry. This month I was meant to complete x amount of poems, upload another video on you tube and perform at an open mic session. Has not happened yet. I have started to write down monthly goals and I need to remember that February is not over yet. There is still time. I was reminded the other day that I need to start thinking about 2 year and 5 year plans - of how to reach my dreams that have been birthed since the womb...

Jumper

Just submitted this to Magma Poetry magazine, their next issue has a clothing theme.

Jumper

You wrap yourself around me elegantly and internal sighs consume me from within
Memories flash by in floods and I see him
Standing there by the light by the window
And I smile and smell his scent, I am sure it is him
He wears the same jumper that tonight cuddles me in bed
My favourite woolly-warmth old with time and wisdom
I am sure you said it belonged to your father
That he use to wear it when engrossed in a book
A pipe balancing on his bottom lip
you said

The sky moods over its shades of grey reflect my current emotion
Sadness spreads and a tear escapes slowly
It trickles down and kisses my cheek
I miss you

I stroke you now and close me eyes imagining I am really feeling you
Kissing you, touching you
You use to belong to me everything of you was a part of me
Your jumper it helps and heals the pain
I would never go away
You said






Copyright © 2013 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 by 
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or 
otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

narrative glimpse #2

Just a little something to sink your teeth into...

Taking off my sun glasses I felt blinded as my eyes took a while to adjust to the bright light. It was overwhelming and the distant slapping of sea wave to sand helped me to focus my scenery. The grey plastic frame was cool glued to my sweaty hot palm and I was able to admire the white sanded beach in its true colours. Not the various tones of blacks and greys that my eyes were enslaved to since I jumped of the bus. It is called a bus but it is a mini van. A shiny blue rectangle box on wheels driving along the mountainous lanes believing its name is Ferrari. Vomiting a dusty cloud of pollution its sickly smell of gasoline flooded through the opened windows and consumed all the passengers. The weight of the passengers caused the bus to groan at every sharp turn and my red painted nails had fearfully gripped the cling-film textured seats. The bus balanced close to the side of the cliff creating a glass road effect. Its birds-eye view was frighteningly beautiful and was unspoiled by the radio blasting the latest calypso tune. Lush green bush smothered the vista of mountains which were scattered with an assortment of tropical flowers and plants. Seat belts did not exist in this bus and our squashed bodies were free to knock about like wooden pins on a bowling alley. I kept apologising to the old lady sitting next to me. She smelt of coconut oil and looked so fragile but she managed to nod and smile a toothless smile at me. Her smooth brown skin was wrinkled with time and wisdom and I loved her style of dress. There was no connection between her paisley patterned bandanna head tie, stripy red and white top and outrageously flowered skirt. But I could relate to the array of silver Grenadian style bracelets and bangles that danced round her thick wrist like a hoola hoop on a waist. They reminded me of my Gran.

You moved me...

In 2012 I met someone who really inspired and challenged me. I needed to fix up and like Nike 'just do it'. As mentioned in another post, in 2012 there were a few reference points that caused me to rethink where I want to take me and my poetry/ writing/ whatever...

-->

You moved me

There was that something about you

You were something else

Your embrace brought sparks to mind

I saw dancers on your lips as your words

Were a balm

Soothing and healing me with your warmth

Thought provoking messages

Coded with my own definitions

Destiny claiming

Time to be advancing

I am reaching

You moved me

Your essence was a supplement needed to energize

Revitalize

It was your confident smile

Reassuring

Reminding me of past goals withered with time

And dust

My hope line

I am motivating

You moved me

That jive in your style

Its personality in captivating

Eyes watered with unique history

The smell of old books follow you

As you lead creative with cheekiness

Challenged with a sense of conquering

I am at the right time

You moved me

Thankfully I am inspired

You moved me video...






Copyright © 2013 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 by 
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or 
otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

narrative glimpse #1

My feet feel snug as the warmth of my grey boots prevents the cold from sneaking in. The soles crunch the stone pavement of my front garden whilst I survey the bricked horizon. Bleak terrace cottage houses lean on each other looking fast asleep and the length of the road seems endless. It reminds me of a dream where you walk forever on a treadmill. Walking for miles but not going anywhere. Only sadly continuously revisiting and reliving the same scenery of life. Mirrored through the puddles on the roads are snapshots of the dark sky. It looks prettier when photographed at different angles happily showing off its vastness. I wrap my scarf tighter round my neck and chin and bury my nose deep; hoping that the cold smell would disappear. This darkness is odd at this time. It causes me to crave the comfort and warmth of my bed. To fluff up my pillow and dive into sleep bliss. If only. Reaching inside the house I skilfully drag the bulky pushchair out over the step. Its bright green colour is refreshing and foreign against the backdrop of the grey and brown tones. Singing baby babble awakens the sleeping houses with a sigh; her unrecognisable tune sounds welcoming and cute. If only it could bring out the summer and warmth; transforming the darkness into sunlight. Her little face appears out from her pink puffy coat; she is smiling and happy to be outside. I usher out my son with his autumn brown colour scheme and oversize grey knitted hat. He clambers out trying to grip the door frame for support whilst refusing to let go of his spiderman that daddy brought him. His expression looks grim as he looks at the sky and his bottom lip pushes out in a sign of protest. I zip up my jacket against the cold and double check that scarfs are wrapped tight and hats are covering ears. The endless road awaits and we gladly accept its habitual involvement in our morning routine.

Hello 2013

It has been a while since I have entered a new year and felt a deep sense of excitement for great things I believe are in store. 2013 does feel nebulous but I have a firm faithfulness that God is going to start something of significance. Something is out there. I can smell it in the air and taste it on the tip of my tongue. I am excited but do now why. I am filled with optimism that 2013 will be the apex of fulfilling my life (writing) dreams. I am realistic and know that the journey will seem interminable but I feel motivated enough to overcome, continue and plod on. 2012 had been a year of  rebuilding confidence and the birthing of opportunities; with the myriad inspiration at key moments. Goodbye 2012, hello 2013!

Train

as the train sings its metal tune

I decide that its time for pen to make love to paper

to gently caress sheets of white

with scribbles and shades of blue

bring to life boring A4 stripped

I might be able to relax
and chase away head hurts of stress

the reoccurring theme of my day today

as my space fills with earthy dusty smells of the tunnel I am in

I think of work and this journey

and how life consuming it can be

with the greys and blacks of how inside this train can be

the stress tension decides to travel

from my forehead to the bridge over my nose
I then rub

as the train hums to a still at the platform

not moving dead

pausing my journey in the rush-ness of time

the pen lays downs and rests for awhile

and I think how relaxing writing can be
and I dream dreams of being somewhere else
and I know I can run free and stroke the warmth of the sun
the trains jolts to a start
ending my dream







Copyright © 2012 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 by 
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or 
otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

Me and My Identity

This is a poem that I wrote for a Black history month event in October 2012. And in a nutshell it describes me, my understanding of me-ness and who I am as a young Black woman (well one of the elements, there are many more that I would like to explore)...

 

Tropical heat kisses me with a warmth that’s new to me

It whispers smooth melodies welcoming me to my home

And taking a deep breath I do feel at home

Like the prodigal son returning to his birth home

Stepping out of the plane

 I smile and I smell an air so sweet

And I hear conversations and tongues dancing to a calypso beat

I see a vista of people so beautiful it overwhelms my expectations

Awakening me from a state of heritage starvation 

My parental kinsfolk equals my people

Excluding them makes me feel partial

Eye crowds search me with curiosity

And I feel I am at a place I was always meant to be

Shouting out are shouts of ecstasy

Kissable lips brushing me

Blissfulness surrounding me

I am no longer an island absentee

Separation of years washed away with gleeful tears

And necklace hugs eagerly consume me

Snugly I embrace the skin to face

I sigh a relief of something lost now found

Reunited finally to my family

I have come to a land my parents spoke about

They dreamed great dreams about

Speaking of childhood tales of laughter laughed about

And shedding tears as things became a distant memory

Like kids sitting in the veranda sipping hot coco tea

Or carving dolls out of the mango seed

And beware of the obea who lived in the bush next door

When you go out to pee at night in the pit out the back door

This lands culture it’s embedded into mine

It’s formed a complete uniqueness that’s all mine

I am forcefully claiming my identity

Optimistically hoping that they’ll accept me 

Lifelong I have lived in the realm of sub and co cultures

And I am content with all the elements that make up me

I am British I am Grenadian

And I feel like I have been here before
 

In my dreams it was me catching crayfish down in the raven

And liming for hours on end dipping in the endless rivers, lakes and seas

My arm hurts from beating the co co in the iron pot

And my feet sting with ant bites from running bare foot

I’ve jumped out the truck with my cousin and his cutlass

Chasing the manicou into the deep dark bush

J’Ouvert morning it was me covered in mud doing the jump up

Next day savouring the juices of the mango and soursup

I have created my own memories

I am thankful for the opportunities

I have been awaken from a state of heritage starvation

I am no longer an island absentee

My Grenada it is my isle of spice







Copyright © 2012 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 by 
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or 
otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

busy doing nothing

unproductiveness of busyness

how does that even make sense?

but people always understand its meaning

like taking steps and going nowhere

a waste of energy and time

things could be done better spent

giving a purpose

a destiny

items ticked of the to do list

or space just to be

and sit in the stillness of time

enjoying the emptiness for a change

being consumed by thoughts

and its peace in being able to reflect on things that deserve time






Copyright © 2013 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 by 
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or 
otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)

Just a moment (Nov11)

in this moment of still I find
a slot of peace
just a small one and a moment in time
were I can express my thoughts
toys crash in the background
and machine moans its load
baby swallows and sucks
small hand caressing my fleece gown
something is being dragged along the floor
kicked by a young mind
who's bored






Copyright © 2011 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 by 
any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or 
otherwise without the express written permission from Sonneteer Articulates (aka Traysi Matthew, Traysi Speaks)