THE WORD

It’s only words’ sung the Bee Gees. ‘But words are all I have to take your heart away.”

And we write plenty of them, words. Hear a whole lot too. Fine words, tickling words, teasing words. Sometimes they are just thin veneers that have no substance, like clouds; you reach for them but they are not there. They sound wise, philosophical, but if they cannot work out in our lives, if they are not our every-day reality, they are merely ‘clanging gongs or tinkling brass’, so to speak. Fine for entertainment, but lacking the power to change, transform and rebuild.

The challenge of course is for us to craft words that relate to reality; words that speak of justice, mercy and humility; words that open ‘deaf ears’ so that change for better becomes an outworking of our words. In the beginning was the Word. That’s where we start.

For many, our open microphone events are a starting point. They provide opportunity for us to keep writing poems and songs, to refine our own words and to develop the craft of wordsmithing.

It is always great to see individuals step out for the first time behind the microphone; and a second and third time. Stunning to see people grow in confidence and skill and focus as their words develop into powerful entities of change, transformation and rebuilding.

This month open microphone events continue at The MAD Café in Collingwood and at the Dangerous Kitchen in Takaka. We will be back at the Mussel Inn in April. Details on following pages.

Also this month the Nelson Fringe Festival kicks off with Emma Callaghan and myself performing one show and I’ll be doing another with Rose Michel von Dreger and Henry Ludbrook. See the following pages for all the details on these shows. Full programme and tickets here: www.nelsonfringe.co.nz

Peace
Mark Raffills
Golden Bay Live Poets Society

SWIMMING

I never was much good at swimming
– lungs bursting at each painful stroke.

Sometimes
the words and the reality don’t relate;
sometimes if you can’t actually
stick your fingers into the wounds,
there’s no point in pretending
the wounds are there at all.

Sometimes I just want to lie
in the sun on a beach,
arms wrapped in love,
taking joy in an easy yoke
and lay to rest the breathless stroke
and the constant fear of drowning.

I never was much good at swimming
– lungs bursting at each painful stroke.

Sometimes I fight to stay afloat
Sometimes I slip beneath the surface
and wonder how far down I can go
before I’m lifted by the hand of grace.

Sometimes I just want to lie
beneath the full moon,
drinking in the solitude
taking joy in an easy yoke
and lay to rest the breathless stroke
and the constant fear of drowning.

Mark Raffills