For the first time, some preamble.
On Tuesday I was fortunate to attend a poetry workshop put on by Stonewall Housing with the extremely talented Maureen Onwunali (who has subscribed - big up!!!)
I was welcomed into the space even though I didn’t share an important identity characteristic with some of the people there. Welcoming people is warming and kind. More and often. Bun the supreme court.
All of the prompts for the workshop were related to ‘home’. We were asked to define what home meant for us. The definition I wrote was:
“Home is people, safety, place and potential”
When it comes to ‘place’, for me, there are two:
A) South London
The cultural capital of our entire planet. A place where anyone who’s ever been to a rave - “make some noise if you’re from etc etc” - knows our energy is unmatched. Creativity oozes here. It is also where my first love - football - reigns supreme and produces more talent than anywhere else in the UK. So I love it.
B) Bognor Regis
The time spent with my Grandad before he passed. Where I learned to play pool, leaning over tables in pubs pleading for a go. Voted the UK’s worst seaside town in 2022 (I learned in this beautiful film). The place where I discovered depression and addiction. Personally, it’s loaded. Some memories are hard to move past. Despite these experiences it is still where all my family live. Therefore, it is also home. So I ____ it.
With those places in mind I was flooded with ideas. But home is so much more than them, and I’ll do well to remember that.
Thanks for reading x
For this poem, the prompt was ‘Where are you from? / Who are you?’
Duel
Two places, but neither at once the middle droplet in a pool of nowhere spilling out of histories stolen from lands that aren't mine navigating the minefields and booby traps laid for me by my own kind I'm the simple pleasures within uncertain times I'm talking about the weather at the end of the line I'm the songs of neighbours without the flavours The playground was rotten, wasn't it? I escaped the worst of it I live in a bubble-wrapped island made possible by the toil of women from there, I take daily boat trips until the inlets of the ocean are laid bare and I can swim or I can paddle or I can sunbathe depending on *knock knock* who's there
This was a poem I’d started, but was now able to finish.
Duality
He comes from two different places in both different faces each has people driven from displacement met with racism a battle he keeps fighting inside, outside rah rah rah waging war on what they're typing blah blah blah He comes from two different places he can't ignore the fire igniting find it in his belly he can't stop what's right from lighting his path but he can't right the wrongs that happened in his past He comes from two different places in both sceptical of the ways he's forced to spend his days hard work pays off until he has to spend his wages helping people feed themselves when there's enough on his plate for him to consume himself to a state of disarray He comes from two different places how does he keep dreaming through interrupted sleep he treats his pain with beer it used to be cheaper here He comes from two different places in one his head spins in the other he hopes it's a creeper He comes from two different places he meets deceit tends to greet it with smiles beguiles himself into thinking his vision is true a thought pattern he's had so have you he feels the need to propagate his truth connecting his own between two He comes from two different places If he just goes forward faster mind racing synaptic steps regular pacing he could be claiming best out in one he's slicing bread the other he's throwing the rest out unrest in his head because his story doesn't check out He comes from two different places I guess home is where he is now
Beautiful - thank you for sharing
Interesting poems 🌓 (love the preamble!)