On my website the other week, I commented about an art project I was doing with Brian Channer of Odd Zebra and NuBriton. We met again this week at our mutual place of work and sat conversing with the young ladies in the hostel. He read us a wonderful poem that he had written as the result of a sculpture either he or someone on one of his projects had done. It was about three ladies: one who wore a polka dotted dress, a wise lady in blue and a third in red. They each characterised different aspects of womanhood- I forget the intimate details but the poem was wonderful. I love listening to good verse and appreciate how poetry is the dance of language. I love being stirred and moved by words. As I was sat on the train yesterday I got to thinking about this wonderful poem I wrote this as a reaction: 

His Poem

I would love to write verse that made the soil turn
And have roots protrude from concealed seeds
Instead 
All I can do is listen, be mesmerised by words that caress into submission
Words that turn the heart of a polka dotted girl.
Who was she who lay horizontal in the reeds
Behind a purple setting sun and a jet blue sea?
Who was she who rose wise and empowered
Swaying with her nation? 
Loved at last from the inside out;
Birthed again from a thousand splendid whispers
We are told he was softly spoken, sober yet drunk with the knowings of herstory
The lady in red glows again
Another song rises from the lady in blue 
I sit with the polka dotted girl  
And sprouts blossom
From tear drops in the soil.
We are all something different from his words.