The Ropes
A poem from The Ropes
We are…
We went… brittle in the winter
and now we are…
shooting out of ourselves into solid shapes;
Rock-salt-roses cramping in the blood
like shoots from potatoes, growing up and we…
we are staccato butterflies
transforming by degrees and stuttering strange echoes
of personal mythologies.
And we… we are ferociously delicate
in our bold evolution
away from the exoskeleton of childish dreams
we are… shedding our skins
and beating gluey wings like war drums;
fragile soldiers with flowers for lungs
with thumbs and knees,
howling starry-eyed battle cries for nobody.
Elspeth Kirkman was born in Swindon, grew up in Hull and is a recent graduate of Warwick University in Coventry. She has now moved to London where she is trying to pass for a grown up. She loves loyalty points, complex carbohydrates and stationary.
Poems by you
The following poems have been written by pupils at Durham Girls School, inspired by Elsbeth Kirkman's poem (above) following a workshop by the poet.
This is the space dedicated to words from you, if you'd like to take part - Submit a poem »
Self Portrait of Me - Aged 12
Screaming and running around my bedroom
I fret
For I am a bird you see
Nothing is ever as simple as it seems
Nothing is ever the same
Evergreen
As the world changes round me
I stop
A wide grin spreads from ear to ear
My eyes glisten
The smell of chocolate
Groovy bananas
I Am Me
I change like the seasons,
sometimes warm, sometimes cold
Though my personality never alters
I cling to many things when they should be long gone
Torn blue jeans, charms, my phone which never falters
I grow like a seedling which is desperate
to be as grand,
as wise as an oak tree
Going through phases, shedding my leaves
On occasions, obsessed with me and ONLY me
Facebook, MSN, texting galore
Oh my God, no way, this is such a bore
Instantly sidetracking and tapping my knees
My habits are extremely hard to seize
Shopping and reading and straightening my hair
Wanting to spend time with friends
I like to follow actresses and their diets
But just wolf down chips in the end
Demanding I can be, but quite persistent
Trustworthy, loyal and caring
Unique brown eyes like those of a horse
Not very active, but can be quite daring
Favourite place - which isn't hard to chose
Is my home, sweet home
Unique - can be a bit snappy
But with a heart as big as a dome
The Almost Teenage Stage
Why do they look at me that way?
As if I'm going to commit a crime,
I'm not anorexic, I don't have an ASBO
And I don't have a gang of thieves as friends.
We aren't all threatening punks, you know,
We may listen to Soulja boi, and wear skinny jeans,
But we hide away from the truth.
I lie alone in bed, away from the horrors of the outside world
Where everything is constantly changing.
I delve into my bright green book,
Immersed in the happiness of another dimension,
Singing aloud the peril-less pink colour of the world,
The almost scary colours of the world.
Whilst the rebellious binge-drinkers take drugs and make fights,
I grow like a blade of grass,
Taking in through my big blue eyes
The trees blossoming in their ever-changing shades of the seasons.
My small dainty feet, trickling across shores and horizons,
Like a rainbow that reflects my true personality,
Or an innocent fish,
Vulnerable to the surprises the world has in store.
Self Portrait of me Aged 13
Biting my pen during school - thoughtful, hopeful,
"You noodle!" - friendly, clueless really,
Lasagne - unforgettable, tasty, gone,
A blue reversible coat - material, likeable,
An Ipod - calming, escaping,
Auckland Castle - peace, content,
A bush at the top of a garden - deep, dangerous,
A fish in a bowl - forgetful, clumsy,
Swimming into the new light, new dawn, new life,
Freshness of the morning out of my bedroom window - refreshing, new,
The time - changing, moving on,
Moving forward - constantly, forever,
A wrist - unnoticed, timid, small,
"She's so lovely" - in her dreams, maybe,
But this is me, after all.
This is the space dedicated to words from you - Submit a poem »