It seems I can’t stand still without being incredibly stiff. I really ought to try and do something about that but ho hum. The sun is a peculiar thing, it really does what it wants and doesn’t care whether you need a likkle bit of it or not.
Today’s fire poet is the Liverpudlian powerhouse writer Laurie Ogden @OgdenLaurie. Poet, playwright, actress, her creative artistry knows no bounds. She’s written two plays that will be at the Edinburgh Fringe, some of which you can see in London soon on a double bill, follow @AntonymTheatre for details on that. She probably made you cry when you saw her on the telly this Mother’s Day. She’s also a Barbican Young Poet that I’ve had the privilege of writing with over the past months. She’s one of my favourite people and an incredible poet too. Her rendition of Liver Bird embedded below, oh my, so grateful to have been there in person.
I have started digesting myself
turning my teenage years to soup,
breaking down everything that made me–
solid pillars becoming soluble.
The walls here are thick.
I do not know if what’s left
of me will make strong wings,
ones to unbind me from this cocoon.
I dream of emergence
whilst lamenting the butterfly state.
What can a butterfly do,
other than break down walls?