Poems:
We felt it crucial to use this opportunity to spearhead creative methods to enable people to share their experiences and perspectives. We ran a series of poetry workshops, culminating in an online community showcase event.
Groundings from the Future
Errol
Addressed to the me from ahead to the me from before
It's not to stop learning more but to learn different
It's to hold on and wrestle with
the STEM as it shoots towards the sun
Taking you to desirable and fruitful places
Open the flow of words and enjoy their prose
And open the gate to numbers and hard memories
Even when they slowly and rickety and loudly grate
For the flow and the slow ensures a balance
of the universe and of divergent paths
Which become a choice for one to pick of the tree
The universal tree shoots in many directions
Any you of before will climb limbs from any STEM
To you of the time yet to come
Friendship (end rhyme)
Errol
Life navigates fleeting moments
Then gone in a fleeting moment
Friendships a minuscule of these fleeting moments
Then it too is gone within a capsule of these fleeting moments
So to stretch a moment one must savour a moment
For as long as it lasts
For savoured friendships stretch and last almost a moment
And that is to endure and to have
Lasting friendships for near a moment.
Unnamed Poem
Omar
When we were younger
we played make believe grown ups
We're grown up and still playing
I spend most conversations with adults
chewing slang
til its lost its flavour
Swallowing things
doesn't make them go away
Spitting them out
is refusing to hide any more
I'm happy if I'm as Me as possible
Me as
cartoon in the mirror
Me as
glint in your eye
Me as
lost crayon nursery self portrait
Meteors don't want to crash
they just haven't worked out
how to orbit politely
Sometimes I can't fit
all the thoughts in my head
So I find them homes
in other parts of my body
Fingertips
hold them better than knuckles
Mouth
better than eyelids
Chest
better than feet
I spend whole days listening
to the marks on my skin
Whole nights
at the feet of the stars
Letting them tell me
how they got here
Atonement
for all the years
I denied their existence
I think finding myself is like
looking for other lost things
Just need to check all my pockets
Retrace my steps
Look under everything
It'll be here somewhere
The Past
Yvonne
Off to a strange land
With Dad and brothers
Mum left behind
Didn't know why
New dawn, new day
New faces, new smells
Don't understand
A word being said
A new face
Beamed with love
I understood the language of love
And reached out for a hug
Mum's not here
But Gran will do
Keep On Keeping On
Paul
Where is the gentle touch of a puzzled child’s hand?
Where is the connective conversation to be sure they understand?
Where has the noisy playground, the chatty lunch hall gone?
Just keep on – keep on keeping on.
Where is the cheerful clink, the coffee cup sound?
Where is the excitement of having friends round?
Where has the calm joy of huge mother’s hug gone?
Just keep on – keep on keeping on.
Where is the joy of the chorister’s cheerful chirrup?
Where is the sonorous symphony of singing voices’ spirit?
Where have the tickets, the anticipation of concerts gone?
Just keep on – keep on keeping on.
It’s not forever – it will come to an end,
and I’ll put my hand once again in the warm hand of a friend.
Once again the classroom, children singing where they belong;
because we kept on – kept on keeping on.
Nothing
Paul
This poem is about nothing,
it has no subject or theme;
This poem is about nothing
and about what nothing might mean.
Nothing is not anything,
it’s the middle of polo mints;
nothing is what you often do
while your computer slowly syncs.
Nothing is a blank white page,
when at sea it’s what’s in sight;
nothing is the sounds you hear
while awake in the middle of the night.
Nothing is when it’s not there,
it’s the middle of a bubble;
nothing is what you say you’ve done
when mum says you’re in trouble.
Nothing is a silent room,
it’s a great thing to plan to do;
nothing’s what the bully says
that they have done to you
Nothing can be boring,
it’s what doing nothing often brings;
nothing’s what’s right in the middle
of delicious Haribo rings.
This poem was about nothing,
it had no subject or theme;
and I hope it’s taught you that
there’s more to nothing than it might seem…
Unnamed
Stefano
Our past can't be redone.
All those days are done.
The past is gone.
I opened my eyes with hope of good future.
No amount of colour can change the blue in the world.
But we can fight it.
My cats are purling we are all hurling [as in like all hurling of happiness]
The future will wait for you
So you must go before it does.
Now spread those wings and head for the stars.
No matter how far you may go,
You must go further and further.
The future is uncertain.
No way for us to see.
Sleep Dream
Michael
The morning Routine
The pink and blue
The moment of awakening
The morning mirror messes
The two ducklings hatching from yesterday’s trauma
The glory of knowing we made it through the night
The Jazmin Sullivan’s
The Earth, Wind and fires
The Children of the wind
The Ojerime’s
Blasting from the Sonos
We drown ourselves in these sounds
We are the last twigs fighting for survival on the winter tree
These twigs will not fall
We will not fall
We wave at the kids playing football below
East Finchley has just won the World Cup
We cheer
Back to the flat
The Rapid snatch of a wooden spoon out of my hand making me feel worthless
The inability to just do it
The blanket of separation
The binging of anxiety
The way it all just disappears with a good nights sleep drea
All of the poems exhibited here were created as part of an online workshop facilitated by Bonny Downs Community Association, led and directed by Michael Elcock and Omar Bynon.
Please be sure to check out the Bonny Downs website to keep up to date with future events.
Promised Land of an Unknown Immigrant
Mahmudul
I worship Athena.
She brought me to London,
My love for wisdom.
A rich university library
Spells me bound.
Yet, I can’t stare at the books for hours
Haunted by tuition fees and regular bills.
I try to do a job
Tolerating regular bullies
I am
Restricted by hour
Restricted by sector
Restricted by category
My hands are tied.
No flexibility.
No job.
No access to public funds.
Job satisfaction – it’s a utopia.
What is left for me?
Bully and harassment on a regular schedule.
Can’t get the bitterness out of my system.
The heat is on I can’t tolerate.
Still study and study – no choice.
Tried to leave
But I can’t as my wife loves the city,
“It will be good for our kids”.
What is left?
Tolerate, tolerate and tolerate.
Spent the juice of my youth over the decade.
Promised land at last!
The price?
It was more than
An arm and a leg.
Bonny Downs Community Association
bonnydowns.org
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