Workshop with Laura Reeves: 28.1.15

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A Poem (written in our workshop with Laura Reeves) by Rosie McLay

The colourful skins of frogs and the scales of snakes
Also reminds me of the patterns moths wings make
Seeing through our skin and seeing our bones
The underground of our earth and feeling alone
That wash of heat from turning on radiators
Like the sight of gravy over my roast dinners
Grouping together all small nothings and treasures
Nuzzling into my kitten and forgetting my pressures
The crunch and cold of my cereal and milk
Clicks of my calculator as my maths is pretty ill
The reassurance of tightening the laces on my boots
And holding in the weight of my big boobs
Discovering treasure in piles of shit
Sealing an envelope with a little bit of of spit

gold leaf

Catching the shine from the metal around my neck
And the glisten of gold things in tiny little specks
Row upon row of fabrics all together
Blackadders costumes from cotton to leather
Ducks excitement though you pass with no bread
Crouching into caves and not hitting your head
The simpleness of The Good Life and living from the farm
Wind against your face but your jumpers protecting your arms
Spills of inks falling onto moisture and bleeding
Bugs eating the pollen that they all be needing
The magic of hundreds of blinking fairy lights
Like the safety of wearing a new pair of tights
Devouring a beef burger with chips over-baked
The coloured skins of frogs and the scales of snakes

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