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continues

I give

my mind

my body

my time

who I am

who I wish to be

and who I was

And now you’re a part

of the past, apart, from me

and I don’t want to think of the day when I

give

my mind

my body

my time

who I am

who I wish to be

and who I was, to someone else,

now a part

of my past, apart, from me

and I don’t want to think of the day

I give

my mind

my body

my time

who I am

who I wish to be

and who I was, to someone else,

now a part

of my past, apart, from me

and I don’t want to think of the day

I give

my mind

my body

my time

who I am

who I wish to be

and who I was, to someone else,

now a part

of my past, apart from me,

and I don’t want to think of the day

I give…

(ad infinitum)

 

EMC

photo by the author

New Poem Published

On Friday 28th April a new literary mag launched – Paisley Poems. To write my contribution for this I cast my mind back to what it was like growing up in Paisley; spending time with grandparents, our regular haunts and familiar past times.

You can purchase the mag in person at Abbey Books or Rainbow Turtle in Paisley, or online at paisleypoems.scot for a very reasonable £1.50.

EC

Hewn

Glacial,

people pass,

push new routes through.

Friction forms heat,

metes the ice –

leaves you forever shaped by their shape.

Slim surface layers

become

pebbles

incremental.

Breaking away,

new, hew, paved.

Sloughed off,

the bare rocks watch

what will be brought,

and ask, how long have we got

EMC

Image Loch Coruisk, Isle of Skye by George Fennel Robson

After Winter

Last Spring I discovered that when the right eyes catch you in their light, you are seen. Aubrey was like the sunrise after a winter of Nordic nights. She brought a chance to start again, everything reset, you could be the person you wished you were the day before.

Aubre was direct, strong and had the ability to pierce whatever surface wore her reflection. Like slivers of sun-flares, burnt diamonds, she got under my skin. I was full of her.

In a short space of time, feelings grew like stems emerging from seed. Bursting like a river through a barrage, they flew.

I didn’t need to worry about letting myself go, risking running empty, because we were part of this together, me and Aubr . It was a cycle of replenishment, a process that couldn’t be seen but the consequences of which could be felt, proving its existence.

To and fro and back and forth, we exchanged parts of ourselves. As one person evaporated they were filled by the contents of the other.

Combining rushes of water and light left rainbow colours in our wake, a new spectrum for us. Aub danced bright, and I felt like I would never be afraid of the dark again.

—

Au was buoyed, Merle filled her from the tips of her toes to the whirls at the top of her crown.

Merl was rooted. She was strength, non-judgmental, with a sweetness to rival amber. A envied her.

Mer couldn’t fight what was to erupt, unchecked, from her heart. Leaving marks, like bark when its rings are marred with scars. Nurturing warmth turned scorched, their crossed paths were left parched.

Me was no longer doused by      to obscure or salve her wounds. The rush of elements stopped as abruptly as it started.      would have tried to hide a roll of her eyes at being described as ‘elements’. M would have blushed, nudging her love with a lightness of touch.

The ferocity of fire was left to burn itself out, incrementally; a violent, unwanted, renewal.

was glad not to face these consequences.

still searched for diamonds in the amber.

EC

Image by Victoria Morton
Source: generationartscotland.org/artists/victoria-morton/

Realise

She walks all night

But it’s summer

So it’s still light

And what is night looks like day,

The moon

At play.

Kneading the frustration

Out on her skin

Almonds and honey rise,

Fake scent from the bottle

But she isn’t going to

Mix it herself,

So the imitation it is.

If you didn’t know in advance

Could you tell

A blind test

Every time my mouth meets another’s.

When I tasted her,

I thought she was the real thing.

EC

Image: Summer, Margaret Macdonald, c1894

Dare

I am the good girl,

The play by the rules girl

Obey, abide, stay on the right side

And I’m told, everything’s going to be alright.

But inside I’m divining that new stars might be aligning,

Shapes I’ve never seen before, they make me feel like molten gold.

Daring to begin, performing roles I’ve never seen,

Before a friend tells me over lunch that it’s a sin,

I brushed it off   but it’s sunk in.

I didn’t know that my exploring was corroding years of doting

On the notions, those outmoded, that then goaded, questions pouring,

I was soaring then came floating,

Down into the gloaming,

And everything looked different,

And like I’d never known it.

You learn to masquerade, to hide,

Become a master of disguise.

It’s strange to conjure up a past

Where you hoped that you would not be asked

To hold that adoration clasped

Like water running through your hands.

The right direction is emerging

And still my thirst needs quenching.

When a book explains beyond hers and his

To inform teachers and their school kids

The usual rags smear their grease all over it.

Or when schools have the freedom

To erase us from the curriculum,

Is the path to relationships

Not even more treacherous to manage

when your fumbles loves and kisses

Are completely missing?

As if you’re non-existent.

Imagine what that absence does to a young mind over time…

When mirrors lose their shine,

Obscured reflections leave us all blind.

 

It’s the weekend and I’m caught up,

Tongue tripping to keep this form up

When sparks fizz,

And lips meet,

And we knock hips

And bump teeth.

But I’m in the bubble, I forget,

Take a step back, just check…

Can’t rest.

But I dare to trust,

That those who paved the paths before us,

We share the same stuff as they were made of:

Heart and strength and deep reserves,

Educating ignorance even when it hurts.

The love that dared not speaks its name has long been amplified,

Its ripples reaching far and wide

Decibels take on the tide,

And into these familiar waves we leap

Every time we dare to speak.

E.C.

First performed at ‘Dare to Speak’ for LGBT History Month. 

Photo by the author.

Film – An Apple a Day

Film making tends to involve recruiting a team of people, and even when it can be done on low or even no budget, some money is usually helpful, and on a professional level essential.

So I wanted to set myself the challenge of making something at home, on my own, with props and any equipment already in the house. It felt important to prove somehow that at the heart of a film is a story, and that is something, with no backing or help, that I can be capable of. So, this film is a bit rough round the edges. The autofocus self adjusts sometimes. And there is a segment of content I would have adjusted if I had picked the music in advance (I picked it after, and did pay 99p for it, although I now wonder if it might have been around the house too). I sacrificed some music sync at the beginning so that image and picture matched more towards the end.

The story: A commitment to healthy eating is challenged by a tempting sweet treat…

https://vimeo.com/205228813