tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8497834018068549392024-03-21T21:33:56.918-07:00Taylor Reads & WritesTaylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-13795006044976801722021-03-19T07:28:00.003-07:002021-03-19T07:28:53.899-07:00Plethu/Weave Project<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCrQ1nwPZgEpLzl1eU5Rozl8N5sVLQf08_ZL5zBcRQpM7RQZxr6p6UEoczJ_ejB6wiM346viqnE63ona8_4yFK4s4PPM9UXy4CWZT0u26IuiNa6Lzq1F5CylAO9rXCXiPBUIxwNPqBTTm/s2048/4C10D409-56DD-4EAC-84D8-500A3705B2FE.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghCrQ1nwPZgEpLzl1eU5Rozl8N5sVLQf08_ZL5zBcRQpM7RQZxr6p6UEoczJ_ejB6wiM346viqnE63ona8_4yFK4s4PPM9UXy4CWZT0u26IuiNa6Lzq1F5CylAO9rXCXiPBUIxwNPqBTTm/w480-h640/4C10D409-56DD-4EAC-84D8-500A3705B2FE.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><p><br /></p><p>When I was asked to write a poem for a collaborative project with a dancer for <a href="https://www.literaturewales.org/our-projects/plethu-weave/" target="_blank">Plethu/Weave</a>, a cross-artform collab between Literature Wales and NDC Wales, I was super excited. I've always loved dance, even though I left those skills behind in my teen classes, and working with a dancer has been something I've been wanting to do for a while. I was paired with Iestyn James, a dancer and choreographer, and we had a 4-week creative timeline to write and produce our poem and film. </p><p><br /></p><p>In our initial conversations, we responded to each other's previous work, and this led to conversations about finding inner peace, feeling restricted in lockdown, the causes that drive us, and how we've connected with nature during the pandemic. I've been thinking a lot about joy; what that is to me, how I can create joy in my everyday life, finding it in small places. We discussed the power of just being present in our bodies, existing, of slowness, rejecting the pressure to always be productive and busy with something. We were both drawn to the water and the calmness it brought us, having lived by the sea, and that was a vision in our minds from the very beginning. </p><p><br /></p><p>Writing has been difficult for me over the last year, as I know it has been for many others. Some days over lockdown, just getting out of bed and showering has been enough. I've had to make peace with the fact that some days will be hard and that I'm not running at my usual capacity. Working on this project has been refreshing; having a deadline, people counting on me has given me the push to take a poem beyond a half-draft for the first time in a while.</p><p><br /></p><p>It's a very rare occurrence that the seeds of a poem come to me in some sort of mysterious subconscious way; in dreams, on walks, through pictures, out of nowhere. The 'magic' of this is something that's romanticised, but when an idea does come in this way, I find that they usually end up being my best work. In this case, I woke just before sunrise, and just getting up and going unplanned, out into the cold to wherever my body took me, felt like an act of defiance against the slow repetition of my everyday routine (and about as wild as things get in lockdown!) I took this feeling and ran with it, imagining what it might be like to have the world to yourself, being let into the secret language of nature and asking it for the tools to spark a new beginning.</p><p><br /></p><p>I kept Iestyn updated as I re-drafted and picked apart the poem, sending snippets of voice recordings, sounds I took of the sea and birds, and he responded with small sequences of movement to my voice. Watching my words evolve into movement has been a beautiful thing, and Iestyn really brought the piece to life, with his choreography and film adding layers to the piece. Our vision coming together, despite working remotely, has been a great experience. I can't wait to share the finished film!</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-81153516829877788632021-01-07T09:10:00.001-08:002021-01-07T09:10:41.705-08:00Burnt Sugar by Avni Doshi Review<h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666;"> Burnt Sugar by Avni Doshi </span></h1><div><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyLh-Mwu18myFa1NaoiTDpNfTnUz77b4BI074v6_ci2KamP5hZoWPANSm7GDrp11gjUZr7D1T1N5zZ0dIFZVBxwYDyikZPSVtJHt8J4ip0VYy4NWeVr1w9fxlhnHM4DO1_k8vxNY_kKxT/s2048/B096AA48-7559-41E4-8FA7-3B7A64791530-65014CB1-46E3-4CC1-99DF-B840E2146210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1576" height="459" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWyLh-Mwu18myFa1NaoiTDpNfTnUz77b4BI074v6_ci2KamP5hZoWPANSm7GDrp11gjUZr7D1T1N5zZ0dIFZVBxwYDyikZPSVtJHt8J4ip0VYy4NWeVr1w9fxlhnHM4DO1_k8vxNY_kKxT/w353-h459/B096AA48-7559-41E4-8FA7-3B7A64791530-65014CB1-46E3-4CC1-99DF-B840E2146210.JPG" width="353" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><i><span style="color: #666666;"><b>“Sometimes I refer to Ma in the past tense even though she is still alive.”</b></span></i></span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I worked my way through this pretty quickly, here are some whistle-stop thoughts:</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Burnt Sugar is Avni Doshi’s debut novel, and tells the story of Antara, an artist who’s stifled by her mother’s dementia, family life and childhood trauma. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">It begins with “I would be lying if I said my mother’s misery has never given me pleasure”, which shows how Antara’s dealing the complexity of her situation – she’s watching her mother suffer, who has inflicted suffering on her, whilst feeling both pleasure and guilt at this sort of ‘redemption.’ But it isn’t even that straightforward; how do you blame someone who can’t remember? How do you find pleasure in watching your mother deteriorate, as if you can be separate from each other’s pain? It’s clear Antara and her mother’s lives are inextricably linked, in a way that the complexities and suffering of their fragile relationship makes it feel like their bodies are too.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">I can see why people won’t get on with this book. Antara is at times ungrateful, spiteful and we can’t trust the way she sees the people around her. Her descriptions are heavy. The mother-daughter relationship stained by the past, is also something that’s been done before. There are characters who are only explored fleetingly and never brought to life. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">But what I like most about Burnt Sugar is that it isn’t afraid to be ugly or provoke discomfort. Antara often has dark intrusive thoughts and is disgusted by the mechanics of her own body. Her environment and city are suffocating, and she fixates on ugliness. The things that she loathes about her mother’s behaviour; the way she was ‘wild’, resentful as a mother, her inability to conform to expectations, are soon behaviours Antara mirrors herself. </span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Burnt Sugar is a heavy read, and I’m still not sure how I feel about Antara. It got me thinking about the complexity of trauma, what it might be like to care for someone who never properly cared for you, and what it takes to be a mother.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;" /><span style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(38, 38, 38); color: #262626; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">Have you read the book? Let me know your thoughts! 📚</span></div><br /><span style="color: #666666;"><br /></span></div>Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-38355425953912994882019-07-08T02:37:00.000-07:002019-07-08T02:38:52.318-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">It's too easy to throw yourself into new, scary experiences and muddle yourself through instead of truly throwing yourself in head first and absorbing everything you can along the way. When the experience is over, it feels natural to quickly snap back into reality so that the experience settles into a far away half-dream, and you go on unchanged. Writing this post is a way for me to reflect on the recent week I spent with Nescio Ensemble, a 13-person classical string orchestra from the Netherlands, on their Welsh tour.</span></b></div>
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">We spent the week at Chapel Cottage Studio, a beautiful self-built open home and artists' retreat nestled in the middle of the Welsh countryside. Spending the week outside of my city-reality, surrounded by farm animals and the sounds of violins was idyllic. It also served as a reminder of the importance of stepping outside of yourself, to talk and eat with strangers from different walks of life to you, and the ways this can enrich your perspective of your own life and environment. </span></div>
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Before our first gig, we spent an intense day and a half rehearsing. Taking my poetry and their music apart and working to make them fit as one coherent performance. We worked to modify the music and my words to accommodate each other. We were all surprised by how naturally they fitted together; their instruments amplifying and complimenting my words, my words adding another layer of meaning to their set. The more I write and perform, the more comfortable I am with sharing this part of myself with people who are complete strangers — I thrive on this strange intimacy.</span></div>
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Over the week we performed 9 gigs in different parts of Wales; from small village churches to city architects' offices. Before the tour, I knew nothing about classical music. To be honest, I thought of it in a generalised, stereotypical way as being snobby, intimidating and 'not for me', an attitude I think many share. Nescio, though, an innovative group of passionate and talented musicians, have encouraged me to think of the genre in a different light. The ensemble break down the barriers between performer-audience and challenge the formal conventions of classical performances. Each song is introduced to the audience and explained with a personal approach. Nescio also seek to collaborate with artists of different mediums on their tours (luckily this time they found me!) and aim to create something unique to bring to their audiences. They were all clearly very passionate about bringing classical music to everyone, especially those, like me, who viewed it as not for them or inaccessible. I think their personal approach, performing outside of the typical concert hall environment and the fact that most of the gigs were free to attend helped to make our performances more accessible. </span><br />
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Performing with the ensemble was a completely different experience to how I'm used to performing. Instead of just getting up, reading a piece from start to finish then moving onto another, my pieces were picked apart and spread out between musical interludes. I had time to really savour the experience, to reflect on how the music was informing the words and how the audience were reacting. It was a challenge for me to bring my work to people that may not be my typical audience, or knowing that many would have been attending primarily for the music and not for my poetry. But o</span>ur audiences listened intently and gave useful, positive feedback post-concert.<br />
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Lately I've been lucky to work on some collaborative projects. This year I've worked on other music collaborations, made videos and co-written an audio story. It's opened me up to the different ways in which my work can grow and develop under the influences of others. With the ensemble, my performance was more than just standing up and reading but a shared experience between us as performers and our connection with the audience. I'm certain that my work and myself personally will benefit from the tour and everything I learned along the way.<br />
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You can watch Nescio's Vlogs of the tour on their <a href="https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCN9L6s26j9RCMpLJjU20lqQ" target="_blank">channel</a></div>
Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-69907356771152964262019-05-20T10:45:00.001-07:002019-05-20T10:45:17.335-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">Exciting <span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Announcement!!</span></span></h2>
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">I'm super excited to be joining the team at </span><a href="https://www.facebook.com/whereimcomingfrom/?__tn__=K-R&eid=ARD9zEtDNyJn5q2o1PKodEJuAvG0qAF4ck4LHb7Ljw0oU1jldaqAOln7jlu8lhk_Knf_uEElXcoX84Ex&fref=mentions&__xts__[0]=68.ARBrJ3Z2pIgE-aO457h9HvbTDiYPdf9qLBO4_8WDvjxc9W3_Z2BNngDk1OBsFxKr3LFTcA7chCziX0f-q4G3FKHywrIB6NmedIma_h47b_v5YKBltvge0AjtrBi5kZLqiqonBEnDlU4s3t-ks0dPQLl1aUuJECm1gPqqbChDhzXbttF62ZcCtFMN0oQH4otF7B52AM2rztIAs6dv7uzvgJaNKHZ0ECrMwzdLgQ54w43alo5ZVUkRFMq6c8y-hKM0ZGHZd3dvZAOet2qyYhLX43DTx-Vkbyhd1kS17V-MLyiscbDpR7YsTLJUuM2ONLvyZ70-zZxOxA0rCGSLCMdQ" style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);" target="_blank">Where I'm Coming From Cardiff</a><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">, alongside the inspirational Hanan Issa and Durre Shahwar. </span><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">WICF is a Cardiff open mic that was created to predominantly promote the work of local BAME writers, but also includes everyone. I've been attending the open mic since it started a couple of years ago, and it's been a big part of me finding myself as a writer and helping to build confidence in reading my work aloud. At WICF I'll be managing social media accounts and generally helping to host and organise events... we're already planning some exciting events and projects. Below is a quote used on the WICF page to introduce myself as the newest team member!</span></div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-58794306799873129402019-05-12T13:50:00.001-07:002019-05-12T13:50:25.306-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">In Bloom Music Collaboration </span></h2>
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I'm super excited to share my poem, In Bloom, transformed into beautiful, ambient music as part of a collaboration between <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Goodparley/?__tn__=K-R&eid=ARBF29UjU4kYMKVuu2w4dGfThie2DJMzHmjDQoafd08c5S_l7nJFM5LKoK7fOt7GUy7MZyu_gh5PoEHc&fref=mentions&__xts__[0]=68.ARA1D_RsNzqhBleiBm7Go11a_TjEH6jHOL-8oFI4euRBavqvzQozPn2y2ktbo1ssRYaWvOmfOVSBjVp6M3t2YhrIIYl68K3g2ZitWeiQarhu3IsEIun_Dp4XqT5d9XSV-G0F10DQp40vKfODbpo8s19UXmKAzl_42MlHgyfdskJGPRv4G5JjnPObtDGpy6YfPDL1IFnzBsauZkwVusc0eTCzwfcueFk6EmESCH-ymjrHWPJYU8eaNTiPjLi1YCPQ6r09H1UuzGgtTUrcWxBlmT5yrZKuAzuia_25UwGU6BOmnUJS2FdQeupgzbwch3FMvzSNZ-HE1t8wfQUWMN0b" target="_blank">Goodparley</a> and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/lucentdreaming/" target="_blank">Lucent Dreaming</a>! In Bloom featured in the debut issue of Lucent Dreaming, and the project will see 5 other creative writing pieces transformed by the talented Oli of Goodparley. We launched the collaboration at Lucent Dreaming's first birthday event, where I read some new poems and Oli played a mesmerising music set. You can read a cover of the event on <a href="https://www.creativecardiff.org.uk/lucent-dreaming-announces-new-audio-series-at-birthday-celebration" target="_blank">Creative Cardiff</a>. </div>
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You can also stream In Bloom from Spotify below. The poem was inspired by the old wive's tale that many of us were told as kids - that if you ate a seed or the pip of fruit it would grow inside of you. I experimented with the idea of this in a literal sense, as in the poem two sisters eat sunflower seeds and wait patiently to bloom, before sprouting stems and petals from their skin and mouths. The lovely illustration that sits with the poem is by Jannat Ahmed. Thanks to Goodparley for transforming In Bloom so beautifully, hope you enjoy!</div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-51150196835451597412019-03-19T12:23:00.002-07:002019-03-19T12:23:23.949-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">On Feeling like You're not Good Enough</span></h2>
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<span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">The make ups of the society we live in, with all the instant access to information we carry around in our pockets, can make it difficult to feel confident and value your achievements. Spending 3 hours of your day on Instagram or Twitter (thank you Screen Time for telling me how many hours of my life I will never get back) tells you that everyone is doing better than you, looks better, is achieving things you'll never achieve. When self-care has become another marketing tool for bath bombs and face masks, how do we learn to genuinely nourish our self worth?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Confidence is a tricky thing to master. Particularly when it comes to withstanding the inevitable setbacks of life. Egos are fragile, and when things don't go your way, the easiest option is to either put the blame on someone else, or yourself. As an aspiring Poet, rejection is something that I'm going to have to get very cosy with. Submitting my work to journals and entering competitions can be a difficult process, with most submissions ending up as rejections. I'm certainly no master of confidence, but here are some things that help me along the way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Check yourself.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">That niggly voice in the back of your mind thrives on anxiety. Whatever you're feeling nervous about, it will latch onto. Writing this blog post, part of me is thinking that nobody cares what I have to say. In social situations, it tells you that you're an outsider, that people just tolerate you. It wants you to think your work is never good enough, that you shouldn't even show it to anyone for fear of pure embarrassment. Its focus on what is lacking can suffocate the positives. It's important to recognise that nothing will ever be good enough to satisfy the voice. After poetry readings I often feel a weird mixture of feeling both dejected and exhilarated, wanting to do it over again but better, because I'm disappointed with my performance. This energy can be turned into a positive thing, a way of figuring out where there's room for improvement. Instead of putting a lid on this voice and trying to stifle it, why not confront it? Reason with it. I feel this way after a reading because I<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>can</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>do better, but I'm still learning and improving each time. So I might not be the best performer but how about how much better I've got at projecting my voice? People just listened to me talk for 15 minutes straight and actually looked interested! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Celebrate all of your achievements.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Even the tiniest ones. When you achieve something it's easy to look around and think your achievement is minuscule compared to what others are achieving. But every single achievement is progression that is getting you closer to where you want to be, and everyday achievements are important too. Completed your first post-uni job application? Had a particularly bad mental health day and managed to take a shower? It's important to take a moment to think about what you've achieved, and reflect on how far you've come. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Practice true self care.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">This means different things for everybody, but I think it mostly comes down to taking time to yourself to re-charge and re-fuel. Don't let yourself get burnt out. Feed yourself properly. This is easier said than done, but there's this toxic ideology that glamorises the idea that you need to be constantly grafting to be a good worker, up at the crack of dawn doing yoga and drinking a freshly Nutri-bulleted Kale smoothie, never taking a break, working into the night. This may be your bag, but I know that for me, I need to take some time to gain a new perspective when I've got a lot on my plate. I'm definitely going to write a better 500 words of that essay after 8 hours sleep than I would sleep-deprived at 3AM after completing a load of other tasks I've set myself for the day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">See rejection as part of the process.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></span></b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Setbacks are inevitable, and sometimes they hit where it hurts. Being able to take on board criticism and use it to grow and improve is only going to move you forward. Sometimes things happen which put you on a different trajectory than where you thought you were going, and it's ok to wallow in it for a little bit. But ensure that you're able to pick yourself up, adapt to new changes, and you'll still get to where you need to be. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;">Your voice is unique and valuable.</span></b><span style="font-family: -webkit-standard, serif;"> Probably the most important thing I've started to learn this past year is to have confidence in my voice and my perspective. Everybody battles with imposter syndrome. Your voice is truly unique to you, nobody else has all of the same little components that shape you, therefore what you bring to the table is always valid. Having confidence in your opinion is such a vital thing to carry forward, both socially and professionally. Others may have more authority than you, speak with greater assurance and experience or have a louder voice than you, but this shouldn't silence you. Your perspective needs to be represented and understood. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br />Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-25963828923970624132019-03-08T06:59:00.004-08:002019-03-08T07:05:37.749-08:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">International Women's Day 2019</span></span></h2>
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<span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Happy International Women's Day! In celebration, I'm sharing my poem, Lady in Pink. The poem explores the ways in which women are connected to each other, through the lens of a chance encounter on a train. You can find the video of me introducing and performing the poem below, which was shot and edited by </span><a href="https://www.instagram.com/maashwell/" target="_blank">Matt Ashwell</a>. I'll also be reading poems this evening at Lush Cardiff's <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/324178341543493/" target="_blank">Goddess event</a>!</div>
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I think it's really important to emphasise how International Women's Day should be celebrated intersectionally, inclusive of all kinds of women, including women of colour, trans women, non-binary people, disabled and neurodivergent women, as well as everybody in between. Fighting against the odds is hard enough as it is, we're stronger together. </div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-18373899569913193082019-02-20T07:08:00.004-08:002019-02-20T07:10:57.307-08:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">In Bloom</span></h2>
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My poem In Bloom was originally published in the debut issue of the beautiful <a href="https://lucentdreaming.com/" target="_blank">Lucent Dreaming</a> magazine. When writing it, I was thinking of the old wives tale that many of us were told when we were young, that if you ate the pip of an apple or other fruit, it would plant and grow inside of you. You can also read my interview with Lucent Dreaming <a href="https://lucentdreaming.com/taylor-edmonds-in-the-spotlight/" target="_blank">here</a>. Hope you enjoy!</div>
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<u><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>In Bloom<o:p></o:p></b></span></u></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>In the summer, we would eat <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>handfuls of sunflower seeds.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Wait patiently for them to plant<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>themselves into our intestines,<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>root, feed, grow.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>My sister wanted to sell hers<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>on Portobello Road.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Bouquets for men to take home<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>for their wives,<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>a piece of herself blooming<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>in stranger’s homes. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Hers grew first,<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>green shoots sprouting<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>from the skin of her forearm.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>She said she could feel the stems<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>intertwining with her spine. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I imagine her now, <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>her curls under a straw hat,<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>at the flower market<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>on Portobello Road.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>As I pick yellow petals<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>from the gaps in my teeth.</b></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-88841635301521522812018-10-07T03:40:00.002-07:002018-10-07T04:54:44.715-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">A Poem for Solidarity</span></h2>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Brett Kavanaugh's recent confirmation to the American Supreme Court, despite multiple allegations of sexual assault being made against him, is testament to the mistreatment of survivors of sexual assault.</span></span></b></div>
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<b><b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">It is a bleak reality, when victims such as Christine Beasley Ford, who testified before the Senate, speak out about their trauma and are met with harassment and intimidation. It's important to recognise that it was not just men that believed Kavanaugh over Dr Ford, but a lot of women too, particularly <a href="https://twitter.com/magi_jay/status/1046802694617419776" target="_blank">white women</a>. </span></span></b></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);"><b>The need for women to support each other, and to be inclusive of all kinds of women, is vital in a world where <a href="http://www.who.int/news-room/fact-sheets/detail/violence-against-women" target="_blank">1 in 3</a> women experience sexual violence.</b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Kim Addonizio's </span><i style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">To the </i><i style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">Woman Crying Uncontrollably in the Next Stall </i><span style="caret-color: rgb(153, 153, 153);">is a poem that I re-visit often, and it feels needed at times like this. </span></span></div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-63228966460153009872018-08-12T10:15:00.001-07:002018-08-12T10:15:51.675-07:00<h2 style="height: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: x-large;">Summer Reads</span></h2>
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<b>Though it feels like Summer is beginning to come to an early end, we've had many sun-soaked days over the past few months. I've enjoyed lazily reading whilst sunbathing on the beach, or at the park, and thought I'd write a few mini-reviews of some of my recent reads. If you're lucky enough to have an upcoming Summer holiday, or fancy recommendations ready to cosy up in Winter, hopefully this might give you an idea of what to read next!</b><br />
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b>Call Me By Your Name - Andre Aciman</b></span><br />
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Call Me By Your Name is the ultimate Summer read. It's six weeks of Sepia-toned forbidden romance on the Italian Riviera between teenager Elio and his father's house guest, 24 year-old student, Oliver. Elio nostalgically relays their story years later, giving the reader an intimate look into the mind of a seventeen-year-old boy experiencing a sexual awakening.<br />
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CMBYN lingers in the heady lust of the chase. Elio spends his days lazing by the pool, longing for Oliver and seeking excitement. The novel will remind you of falling in love, as Elio notices every move Oliver makes. The smallest touch; a brush of the arm, a hand to his shoulder, is electric. The novel is unique to the film adaptation in that we really get to know Elio and the way that he thinks. His obsession with Oliver is intense, greedy, and at times can be sinister.<br />
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This is no glossy, rose-tinted love story, but a bold tale of the reality of human relationships that doesn't shy away from their fragility and ugliness. Too often, same-sex relationships are portrayed in literature and film as two dimensional and lack depth. The best part of CMBYN is the very human, well-developed characters. So naturally their relationship is complicated, and their intimacy both tender and all-consuming.<br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i><span style="background-color: white;"><b>"</b></span><span style="background-color: white;">I’d lie on my bed wearing only my bathing suit, my entire body on fire. Fire like a pleading that says, Please, please, tell me I’m wrong, tell me I’ve imagined all this, because it can’t possibly be true for you as well, and if it’s true for you too, then you’re the cruelest man alive.”</span></i></span></div>
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<b><br /></b><span style="color: #999999; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;">Calling a Wolf a Wolf - Kaveh Akbar</span><br />
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Calling a Wolf a Wolf is Kaveh Akbar's compelling debut poetry collection. It is deeply personal, centring around Akbar's battles with addiction and recovery. We get to know his hunger, his wavering faith and the ways that addiction changes how he views the world. His willingness to be open and vulnerable makes for a powerful collection. It asks questions, without demanding answers, but seeking to explore life and its fragility.<br />
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His poetry is strange and beautiful. Creates surreal, vivid images in excerpts such as '<i>I used to slow / dance with my mother in our living / room spiritless as any prince I felt / the bark of her spine softening I became / an agile brute she became a stuffed / ox I hear this happens / all over the world'</i><br />
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These poems are surreal in the way that addiction is surreal; lines are fragmented and splatter over the page, their rhythms grow to a fast pace and slow back down again. I admire the way the collection experiments with punctuation and form, whilst consistently keeping every line concise and effective. As each poem flows so well, it all seems effortless, which is testament to Akbar's skill.<br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>"Most days I try hard to act human, to breathe </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>like a human and speak with the same flat language, but often </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i> my kindness is clumsy - I stop a stranger to tie his shoe and </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i> end up kissing his knees."</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b>A Girl is a Half-formed Thing - Eimear McBride</b></span><br />
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McBride's stylistic approach to A Girl is a Half-formed Thing is a key element that makes the novel work so well. Sentences are snappy and cut short in a stream-of-consciousness style, plunging us firmly into the mind of our unnamed protagonist as we follow her life. This style reflects the chaotic and and intense nature of the content of the novel. It tackles a lot, exploring themes of family, religion, sexual assault and death. We see the girl fall at life's hurdles repeatedly, experience the gritty trauma of a having an younger brother struck by illness, abusive male family members and a strict Catholic Mother.<br />
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The interesting title is what hooked me into this novel, which I feel centres around the girl's desires to become a 'formed woman' and grow out of being a 'half-formed girl.' Even if the protagonist's experiences completely differ from your own, you feel a connection to her, particularly as a female. She is inherently flawed; she lashes out, is self-destructive and invites in things that will cause her pain, these characteristics make her all the more real and relatable.<br />
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The novel can be uncomfortable, graphic, and its style might read as jarring for some. But for me, these elements contribute to its beauty. It is a reminder of the fragility of the mind, of the body, the make ups of faith and family. If you're looking for a more challenging read, A Girl is a Half-formed Thing is definitely for you.<br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i>“I am tired. Too full of stuff I've done. Where my legs hurt where my scalp hurts. I'll not fight the thing inside me anymore. Let it eat me up. Please God. I want it to.”</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b>Who Is Mary Sue? - Sophie Collins</b></span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;"><i>Who Is Mary Sue?</i> is unlike anything I've ever read before. It's political, takes a stance on the inequality between men and women, particularly regarding the treatment of women in the arts and the way their work is received by both the author and their reader. </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">The title is derived from the 'Mary Sue' of fan fiction, an idealised female archetype which it is said author's use as their protagonist to narcissistically create their ideal version of </span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">themselves. </span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">Collins</span> challenges authority and the objectification of women in society. She explores the idea that it is men who are seen as the 'inventors' in literature, whilst women are viewed as only capable of 'reflecting.' On this view, Collins writes that '<i>A woman who tries to invent in literature will fail, whereas a woman who succeeds in writing is believed to have done so to the extent that she has been able to accurately portray the details of her own life.' </i>This view is, of course, untrue, and puts female authors in a small box, restricting their creative freedom.<br />
<span style="color: #666666; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="color: #666666; font-size: small;">A fusion of poetry, prose, lyrical essay and reportage, the debut collection makes for an interesting read. Collins is inventive, she switches between forms and is creative with the blank space on the page. This is a challenge for the reader, as this at times goes against everything we have been taught is the 'right' thing to do in a creative piece. But this is what makes <i>Who is Mary Sue?</i> so effective and original, when reading it, you must let go of the expectations you have of a collection.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>"The village is always on fire.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>Men stay away from the kitchens, </i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>take up in outhouses with concrete floors,</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>while the women - soot in their hair -</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #666666; font-size: large;"><i>initiate the flames into their small routines."</i></span></div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-55971607411871567922018-06-03T11:24:00.001-07:002018-06-03T11:30:46.352-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-size: large;">Against Hell by Kaveh Akbar</span></h3>
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With sensitive enough instruments even uprooting a shrub<br />
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scale - a tiny crystal dropped in a river turns the entire river</div>
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red. The hands that folded me into my body were not punishing me</div>
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nor could they ever be punished, while the hands of the idol sculptor</div>
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were cut off and tossed to the dogs. This is proof of something,</div>
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but what? Maybe that retribution has grown vulgar, with sin now</div>
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inevitable as summer sweat. Most days I try hard to act human, to breathe</div>
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like a human and speak with the same flat language, but often</div>
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my kindness is clumsy - I stop a stranger to tie his shoe and</div>
<div>
end up kissing his knees. I believe in luck and am barely troubled</div>
<div>
by its volatility. I remember too well the knife held to my gut, the beehive</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I once spat at for hours without getting stung. The charm of this</div>
<div>
particular dilemma: faith begins where knowing ends. The undertaker</div>
<div>
spills his midday latte on a corpse, a chariot wheel flies off</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
and kills a slave, and nobody asks for a refund. The unexpected<br />
happens, then what? The next thing. I feel most a person when</div>
<div>
I am forcing something to be silent, holding a rat underwater or twining</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
shut the jaw of a lamb before it's roasted on the spit. It's only natural to smell</div>
<div>
smoke and feel hungry, to lean into the confusion of tongues. If I am</div>
<div>
to be punished for any of this, it will be thousands of years too late.</div>
Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-68119265392866440642018-04-30T10:30:00.001-07:002018-04-30T10:51:22.113-07:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #cccccc; font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;">Lucent Dreaming</span></h2>
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<h3>
<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: small;">I'm lucky enough to have a poem of mine published in the debut issue launch of Lucent Dreaming, a local independent magazine that publishes the creative work of new and emerging artists. On Saturday, I attended the launch event to celebrate the debut issue at Rabble Studio, a co-working space for creatives in the heart of Cardiff Bay, which was packed out with an excited audience. </span><span style="font-size: small;">Lucent D</span><span style="font-size: small;">reaming is fronted by Jannat Ahmed, who gave a wonderful, inspiring speech about dreaming and the origins of the magazine to kick off the launch. </span></b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;">Jannat talked about the importance of our dreams, in all senses of the word, and how they change over time as our experiences shape and change us. She asked attenders of the launch to sign the guest book with details of our own dreams; one we have achieved, and one we hope to achieve in the future.</span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></b></div>
The brand is clear; Lucent Dreaming is all about the surreal and mystical, what lies between the gaps of our conscious mind and our dreams. This prompt has resulted in a range of unique and experimental content, from authors and artists worldwide.<br />
<br />
Following Jannat's speech, editors Joachim Buur and Jess Beynon spoke about the benefits of collaboration and what Lucent Dreaming is all about. Their speeches proved that the team behind Lucent Dreaming are dedicated to helping writer's grow. To help submitters improve their work, they offer feedback on submissions. It is rare to receive detailed feedback from a literary magazine, and offering writers this chance to use the editor's constructive criticism to improve their work really makes Lucent Dreaming stand out from the crowd.<br />
<br />
It was evident that an incredible amount of passion and hard work had gone into making Jannat's dream a reality, from both herself and those around her. Jannat is the recipient of the Ymlaen Placement, which is a collaboration between Creative Cardiff, Rabble Studio and Cardiff University's Enterprise and Start-Up team. This placement gave Jannat the support she needed through access to office space, mentoring and marketing her idea. I caught up with Jannat to find out more about the story of Lucent Dreaming:<br />
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<br />
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<b><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">How did Lucent Dreaming start?</span><span style="color: #999999;"> </span> </b></div>
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Lucent Dreaming launched its
website on Halloween last year but had been in the works for several months
before that. Last spring I was doing my Masters Degree in English Literature at
Cardiff University. For one of its modules, ‘Project Management and Advanced
Research,’ I created a parody online creative writing magazine as part of my
portfolio. Not long after I submitted my portfolio (and was reeling from the
fact it was utterly ridiculous and I’d submitted it to be marked as part of an
actual degree), I was talking with my friend Jess—now also one of Lucent
Dreaming’s editors—about unemployment. She was telling me she had exhausted her
savings going to publishing internships and still didn’t have enough experience
to get a job in publishing. That was when I told her about my desire to start a
‘real’ online creative writing magazine. I asked whether she’d be willing to
donate her time to it and she said yes! I had two similar conversations with Jo
and Jonas—LD’s two other editors—and so it all began. Over the summer we came
up with a name and Jo came up with a logo and by November we were open for
submissions! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;"><b>How has the support from Creative Cardiff, Rabble Studios and Cardiff University's Enterprise team changed Lucent dreaming?</b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
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The support I’ve received as part
of my Ymlaen placement has transformed Lucent
Dreaming from an online only magazine to one that is also being printed.
Working around designers and content creators at Rabble who have had experience
of printing things before, receiving seed-funding from Cardiff University’s
Enterprise and Start-up team, alongside lots of advice and mentoring sessions,
has made it possible for me to try print. It’s enhanced Lucent Dreaming and
pushed it closer to becoming a viable business. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<b><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">What advice would you give to
emerging writers when submitting their creative work to journals like your own?</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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Read and follow the submission
guidelines! We offer feedback on all *qualifying* submissions we receive in our
inbox: these are submissions that follow our guidelines. However, we’ve had
submissions sent without a title, a word count, sent as a PDF instead of a
document file, even submissions without the author’s name! Give your work a
genuine chance to be considered by making sure you check the guidelines. Besides that, be confident and go
for it! Creative writing magazines, journals, websites and blogs WANT your
submission.</div>
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<b><span style="color: #cccccc; font-size: large;">What does the future hold for
Lucent Dreaming?</span></b><o:p></o:p></div>
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I hope it holds more issues, but
more than that, I want Lucent Dreaming to be a springboard and a community for new
writers and other creative folk whether or not they want to reach publication.
We sell beautiful magazines, yes, but we’ve also set up a notebook subscription
because we know creativity in day-to-day life is hardly ever about the
business-like outcome of being published. It’s about taking time for yourself
each day to craft something, even when it doesn’t feel like a craft. A haiku, a
doodle, a list of important memories—they are all produced from a feeling that cannot
always be pinned down, but it’s that beautiful, strange, surreal feeling that
we want to inspire both through our magazine and everything else we may create
in the future. I hope we inspire and keep that feeling alive in everyone who
follows us. That’s our dream. <o:p></o:p></div>
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You can find more Lucent Dreaming on their <a href="https://lucentdreaming.com/" target="_blank">website</a>, or follow them on Social Media </div>
<a href="https://twitter.com/lucentdreaming?lang=en-gb" target="_blank">@LucentDreaming</a><br />
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-72599161362584378942018-03-15T10:53:00.001-07:002018-03-15T10:53:40.461-07:00<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">Eat Up</span></h3>
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Ruby Tandoh wants you to eat up. Yes, all of you. Regardless of your size, ethnicity, physical ability, gender identity, health, sexual preference, religion, wealth and dietry requirements. Eat Up is a book about the joys of food and importance of nourishment that is inclusive of everyone.</h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">After getting my hands on a copy of Ruby Tandoh's Eat Up, I gobbled the book up at a greedy pace, which seems the appropriate way to read a book that is based around a true love for food and everything that comes with it. </span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Eat up is a refreshing manifesto that dissects food in awe; the inky stain of blackberries on skin, the oozing of sweet honey, the cold-curing qualities of steaming chicken soup. Tandoh is poetic in her descriptions of her favourite foods, often sensual, so that you feel your peeking in on some intimate moments of her life. She talks of groudnut soup recipes that helped connect her to her Ghanian heritage after her grandfather's death, the pancakes she cooked for her fiancee after their first night together and her battles with an eating disorder. Her willingness to be open is what makes the book so fantastic and relatable; it's okay to stay in bed all day and eat a whole pack of bourbon biscuits, it's okay that you love to squeeze a double cheeseburger in your hands and lick the mayo-grease off of your fingers, you don't need to feel guilty that you sometimes skip lunch, or that you sometimes eat two lunches. The book reassures that there's no 'normal' or 'clean' way to eat, many factors contribute to the making of your body, your taste buds and the nourishment that you need as an individual.</span></h4>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Eat up has a lot to say about the diet industry and wellness culture. Social media influencers in particular often dictate what foods are 'clean.' (Fresh fruit and veg, gluten-free, low-carb substitutes, low-salt, low-sugar, low-fat.) It is suggested that this way of eating will lead you to a better life; magically re-invent you as a happier, healthier, thinner and therefore more attractive person.</span></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">But labelling these foods as 'clean' is problematic and sends out the worrying message that foods that don't fit these catagories are somehow worth less to our bodies and are 'bad'. This encourages a culture where people push themselves to follow strict diets and could neglect giving their bodies the proper nourishment they need. If the seductive nature of a fresh batch of stringy cheesy chips, or the call of a sticky toffee pudding becomes too much and they cave, this is often followed by feelings of guilt and the want to punish themselves. </span></div>
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<b>"What wellness culture asserts, in essence, is that there is some higher state we can achieve, but only if we're willing to put in the work. Our natural impulses, the ones that draw us to the buzz of sugar, the sting of salt, bright sweets and festive feasts, are all wrong according to the wellness mantra."</b></div>
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<span style="font-weight: normal;">Eat up also made me think about how we choose to nourish ourselves as a reflection of how we are feeling. Tandoh writes about the complexities of life, and how this effects our relationship with the food we put into our bodies. When I'm feeling good about myself, I'm happy to spend a lot of time in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up to elbows, chopping, frying and assembling something wholesome. If I've had a bad day, I want to get lost in a tub of salted caramel-drizzled ice cream, shove a convenient ready-meal in the oven, or maybe eat nothing at all. </span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;">There's no dispute that mental health affects your relationship with food. It is estimated that at least 1.6 million people in the UK (Tandoh being one of them) are affected by an eating disorder. A person with depression can find the act of eating, let alone cooking, overbearing. An anxious mind may not find the thought space to remember to eat. </span></div>
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<b>"There's one thing I always try to remember, though, when I can feel the tendrils of my old eating disorder creeping back into my mind: treat yourself how you'd treat your best friend. If you would be patient and forgiving with your best friend during a mental health hiccup, then you deserve that, too. If you'd make your friend a fortifying soup, give yourself that kindness. Look after yourself like a fragile, precious thing."</b></div>
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To nourish, therefore, is a sign of showing that you care. Whether it be to yourself, or someone else. Tandoh talks about the gesture of food sometimes being the best way to show someone how you feel. Such as that steaming cup of tea at the end of a long day that says 'Come, sit, tell me all about it.'</div>
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Tandoh also points out numerous occasions that this is evident in film. In the wonderful <i>Moonlight, </i>Chiron is served <i>arroz con pollo </i>by Kevin, in a symbolic gesture that means so much more than the food on the plate. When I was sixteen I attempted to cook my best friend a full English Breakfast in bed before she woke up. I burnt the bacon to a crispy charcoal and burst the egg yolks, but that wasn't what mattered.</div>
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Mothers and grandmother's are stereo-typically known for being feeders. Supplying endless treats and home-cooked meals as a means of showing that they care, that they want you to feel nourished. My mum makes 'Flakeys', a version of a cornflake cake that is rich with golden syrup, margarine and cocoa powder; it's absolutely bad for you and it's absolutely delicious. If I've been feeling crappy, my mum makes this specially to show me that she's there and everything's going to be just fine; for that moment of tasty sickly sweetness, it feels like everything just might be. </div>
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Eat up is revolutionary in that it has no hidden agenda. It is not aggressive, not trying to push an advert down your throat, there is no YOU MUST HAVE THIS or YOU CAN'T HAVE THAT. The book contains a variety of recipes that work for everyone. From recipes for vegan sweet potato stew to a cost effective homemade curry; there is something for every kind of eater. </div>
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<i> </i><b>"You are a human animal, feeling your way through all the goodness and badness of the world with a hungry belly. If you can fully inhabit this truth, your belly will rumble with the same cadence as the murmurings of your mind, and your hands will meet knife and fork with perfect coordination, and you will taste the world just as it is. It really does taste good."</b></div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-72143366139472765212018-03-04T10:26:00.001-08:002018-03-04T10:27:36.491-08:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;"><b>Sunday Poem</b></span></h2>
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<span style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">This weeks Sunday poem, Fasting, is one of my own, and in hindsight I'm realising how often Sunflowers manage to sneak themselves into my poems. </span></h3>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;"><i><b>Fasting</b></i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When I showed Saima
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>she held it
underneath her tongue. Her saliva seeping<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>behind the diamonds —
<i>Let it dry there.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I bought her a bunch
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>to say sorry. She lay
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>on my naked back.
Traced around the petals<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>with the edges of her
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>You’re
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>she spoke into my
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>The ‘o’ of her lips
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>I looked up Saima in
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Arabic name book — <i>Fasting woman.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>When I told her, she
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Wrote out a sentence
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Burnt into my skin<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> </b></span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>For
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-66468641291585786872018-02-11T10:39:00.001-08:002018-02-11T10:40:33.742-08:00<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;"> Three Female poets you should be reading</span></h2>
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<b>In the era of Trump, a society that needs the #MeToo campaign and the unnerving anxiety <i>The Handmaid's Tale </i>brings, poetry is the art form that bites back. Take singer-songwriter Hasley's powerful <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dpq8pHLhdV0" target="_blank">speech</a> at the NYC Women's March for example. Poetry is successful in tackling the taboo subjects that people find difficult to discuss because there's no shying away from it, it demands to be heard. </b><br />
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<b>Below are 3 of my favourite female poets in all of their gorgeous glory. </b><b>Whether you're a keen reader of poetry or not, you're bound to find a piece of yourself hiding between their lines.</b><br />
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b>Warsan Shire</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>I've been in love with Warsan Shire's poetry since I started writing. She is best known for her work on Beyoncés Lemonade and her poems speaking out for <a href="http://www.poetryinternationalweb.net/pi/site/poem/item/22840/auto/0/0/Warsan-Shire/CONVERSATIONS-ABOUT-HOME-AT-THE-DEPORTATION-CENTRE" target="_blank">refugees</a> and victims of <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/society/video/2014/feb/14/girls-warsan-shire-fgm-video?INTCMP=" target="_blank">FGM (Female Genital Mutilation)</a>. If you haven't already heard of her, you're missing out. Shire was born in Kenya to Somali parents and raised in London. She explores what it's like to be laced between two cultures eloquently, capturing intricate and detailed stories of women and their experiences. Her collection, <i>Teaching My Mother how to Give Birth </i>(2011)<i> </i>is bold and beautiful, it tackles many of the taboos in both Somali and British culture with grace. Below is a video of her reading the poems Ugly, The House, The Diet, What We Own and Conversations About Home at the Deportation Centre.<br />
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You can find Warsan on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/warsan_shire" target="_blank">@Warsan_Shire</a><br />
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b>Pascale Petit</b></span><br />
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I came across Pascale's work when searching for inspiration at University. With seven successful collections tucked under her belt, Pascale is a master of metaphor. Her poems are often imaginative and mythical; blurring the edges of reality and fantasy. Her latest collection, <i>Mama Amazonica </i>(2017) is set in a psychiatric hospital for endangered species in the Amazon. It tells the story of Pascale's mentally ill mother, morphing her into a series of exotic animals and flowers. I admire Pascale's ability to tackle her personal trauma and turn it into art. Below is a poem from the collection, posted on Pascale's <a href="http://www.pascalepetit.co.uk/poetry-collections/mama-amazonica/" target="_blank">website</a>.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">From</span> Mama Amazonica</i></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Picture my mother as a baby, afloat<br />on a waterlily leaf,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>a nametag round her wrist –<br /><span style="background: transparent; border: 0px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Victoria amazonica</span>.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>There are rapids ahead<br />the doctors call ‘mania’.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>For now, all is quiet –<br />she’s on a deep sleep cure,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>a sloth clings to the cecropia tree,<br />a jaguar sniffs the bank.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>My mother on her green raft,<br />its web of ribs, its underside of spines.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I’ll sing her a lullaby,<br />tell her how her quilted crib</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>has been known to support<br />a carefully balanced adult.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>My newborn mama<br />washed clean by the drugs,</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>a caiman basking beside her.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;"><b>Cecilia Knapp</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cecilia Knapp is a writer and performer from London. As a successful spoken word poet, she is mesmerising, her rhythms are smooth and seemingly effortless. Her poems take the ordinary and highlight the beauty in the smaller details of everyday life, pull you in and magnify the intricacies of human interaction. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As well as a poet, Cecilia is also a performer in theatre, runs creative workshops for young people and works with the charity CALM to raise awareness of mental health. Below is her poem Bodies that was turned into a video project with Jungle Magazine. </span><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/mJyshhtRokw/0.jpg" frameborder="0" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mJyshhtRokw?feature=player_embedded" width="320"></iframe></div>
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You can find more info about Cecilia on her <a href="http://ceciliaknapp.com/" target="_blank">website.</a><br />
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If you have any female poet recommendations, feel free to share them in the comments section.Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-63558779156208494422018-02-04T05:14:00.001-08:002018-02-04T05:45:05.974-08:00<h2 style="height: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #999999; font-size: x-large;">Sunday Poem</span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUmZF1AyaUkoxv6ZzyL8qdHuGWMB1cm07Lrjg3TP2O6OD-Nq9P_2XlPiTdZOpSEN4fh2qS5fwofDxorwhrCIM34h7MKKibzUtFDAlx2Gse9c9e-RAuYe1LreJuNCLpqGlkcEyIHAdFda2/s1600/IMG_9683.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1163" data-original-width="1600" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUmZF1AyaUkoxv6ZzyL8qdHuGWMB1cm07Lrjg3TP2O6OD-Nq9P_2XlPiTdZOpSEN4fh2qS5fwofDxorwhrCIM34h7MKKibzUtFDAlx2Gse9c9e-RAuYe1LreJuNCLpqGlkcEyIHAdFda2/s640/IMG_9683.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #999999; font-size: large;">application for the position of abdelhalim hafez's girl</span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><i>By Safia Elhillo </i>(From <i>The January Children)</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>i go quiet for days i turn the colour of mirrors</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>i turn the colour of smoke men tell me sometimes</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>that blue becomes me when i answer my voice</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>is hoarse from disuse i am afraid of my body & the ways</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>that it fails me i faint a woman on the subway platform</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>catches me floating into the tracks i become the colour</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>blue i don't like to be touched i wonder why</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>more people have not been kidnapped by taxi drivers</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>white men ask me to say their names in arabic</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>ask where i'm [really from] i am six months</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>returned from sudan henna fading to look like burns</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>dusted up my arms i bleed & can't stop bleeding</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>i speak & my mouth is my biggest wound</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>every language is a borrowed joke i catch myself</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>complimenting strangers on their english i am six months</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>returned from incense smoke to soften the taste of river water</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>incense burned to avert the evil eye i see a possessed </b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>woman scream when a prayer is read her eyes the color</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;"><b>of smoke & mine is a story older than water</b></span></div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-849783401806854939.post-47636132311263032312018-01-09T10:19:00.001-08:002018-02-04T05:19:35.005-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #999999;"><span style="background-color: white;">Currently Reading: The Goddess of Mtwara and Other Stories</span></span></h2>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-UhA3XAq4LdTVlMWaa0KCpB0qh0ObqwZFkXZkYberwWGp4QZu_0jlyV0pPW8EHVv3hBh6s0zq7VoDRH7hGr7zcCtkeOgi_T1go42zxasiyFfshrCQR_1nASRLqaA2zG4Fl_NU4croBI6/s1600/IMG_9648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1155" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI-UhA3XAq4LdTVlMWaa0KCpB0qh0ObqwZFkXZkYberwWGp4QZu_0jlyV0pPW8EHVv3hBh6s0zq7VoDRH7hGr7zcCtkeOgi_T1go42zxasiyFfshrCQR_1nASRLqaA2zG4Fl_NU4croBI6/s400/IMG_9648.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">As January loomed its ugly head, I felt pressure to
conform to the cliché ‘New Year, New Me’ set of unrealistic resolutions I knew
I would never really stick to. Instead, I wrote a short list of achievable
goals, straying away from guilt-inducing diet and exercise regimes in favour of
creativity and well being. This blog is one of them, a space to ramble, unclutter
my head and hopefully write something interesting. I also intend to read a new
book every two weeks, as since finishing Uni I’ve barely been able to finish
one, and to read more works by BAME writers.</span></h3>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">It was a good coincidence, then, that I was given <i>The Goddess of Mtwara and Other Stories </i>as
a gift for Christmas. The book is a collection of short stories born from The
Caine Prize for African Writing 2017, featuring talented writers from Africa
and the African diaspora. The collection is rich with African culture,
transporting the reader to a land humming with the mythical and beautiful.
Superstitions thread through everyday life like modern fairy tales, forbidden
love leaves your heart hurting and God is loved, cursed and celebrated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">The collection opens with <i>Who Will Greet You At Home, </i>a mysterious tale by Lesley Nneka Arimah
exploring motherhood. Ogechi, an expectant mother, creates a baby out of the scraps
of hair strewn about the salon that she works in. As part of tradition, expectant
mothers make babies out of the strongest and most durable materials they can find, to
be blessed by an elder and therefore guarantee a successful birth. Ogechi’s hair baby is glossy and impenetrable,
striking warm maternal feelings inside her. But the baby’s strength comes with a
never-ending appetite to consume, and Ogechi struggles to keep its hunger
satisfied.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">The story takes me back to watching Rosemary’s Baby
for the first time. Both invert the typical idea of a blissful, loving motherhood
and create something a lot more sinister. The idea of the unborn baby having dominance over its mother, out-growing and consuming her is disturbing,
which is what makes the story such an interesting read.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">Throughout the anthology, taboos are tested, African
language is delicately threaded with English and a variety of genres are covered,
from the postmodern to the mythical. For example, <i>God’s Children are Little Broken Things </i>(Arinze Ifeakandu) explores
the love between two boys at university, <i>An
Unperson Stands on the Cracked Pavement Contemplating Being and Nothingness </i>(Tendai
Huchu) paints a picture of a monotonous postmodern world through existentialism
and <i>Shells </i>modernises myth and
confronts the horrors of a deteriorating memory.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">Below are some of my favourite quotes from the
anthology.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">The
answers we seek / lie not in the sleep-deprived faces passing. – </span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;">From
<i>An Unperson Stands on the Cracked
Pavement Contemplating Being and Nothingness. <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="line-height: 107%;">When
asked by a journalist once about Che after his death, Fidel responded “I dream
of him often.” A love letter in five words: I dream of him often. </span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;">–
From <i>Fidel <o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;">(He)
Patted his mouth clean with a small white square he hand-washed nights, even
out in the bush. The desert dyed it that pus-rust colour which bled through
sunsets: sunsets that seemingly choked the sky they were so overwhelming. Like
swallowing dust. </span></b><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">– From </span><i><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
Virus</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></div>
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Taylor Edmondshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14705248095357171314noreply@blogger.com2