25 Pins in a packet women creators, How Words Play, Images, Maps, Metamorphoses, New Poetry, Poetry, Saturday Women Poets

“English Breakfast Love Song” and other poems by Rhiannon Grant

English Breakfast Love Song

 
I am longing to pour out
my soul to you in words
which show my creativity
and let off my head of steam
but my soul is not so liquid
it comes out in funny lumps
uneven like old-fashioned sugar
ready to make sure your tea
is always too sweet and
never sweet enough.

Unengaged Concepts

 
Your thin God –
onmithis, omnithat—
is nothing beside
the wildness
of Goddess.
 
Love and suffering
may have reasons
but are not rational.
 
You say we can know
about ‘chastity’
without living it.
 
Really?
 
Outside a seminar
in a thick press of people
could you look the right way
maintain your dress just so
be chaste in soul
in ways you cannot describe?
 
You can use the word
‘God’ in a sentence.
 
So far, so good.
 
Do not presume to know
what my God is like:
how flowers dance for Her
how Thou is there in silence
how His sentences would make
no sense to you.
 
Goddess might not even be that
after all.
 

Explorations

 
yearning
to fly, to grow
boldly into darkness
to freedom
 
journeys begin
with a single seed
but flights
fight trees
 
kingfisher distains
the city and the plane.
 
in freedom
and darkness
can we fly?
 

This Year

 
we have rebuilt
in our gathering
an anywhere temple
 
we spill ourselves
practising our faith
with a smile
 
giving small acts
(and large) in service
a ready sacrifice
 
we have come up
to see our faces
through God’s eyes
 

Career Counselling

 
Cheer up, you said.
There’ll be something, you said.
 
Not much, I said.
I am looking, I said.
 
Have hope, you said.
There are good jobs, you said.
 
Oh yeah? I said
Not for me, I said.
 
Oh yes, you said.
One is for you, you said.
 
I’ve tried, I said.
There’s tills and shelves and desks and files and typing and smiling and boredom and dying.
It’s fine, I said.
I haven’t a choice, I said.
 
You sighed, I said.
 
Nothing, you said.
 

Illusion

 
I remember you
untouched.
 
In all the weeks
we were together
one kiss, a hug or two,
no more.
 
Then I broke
too loud too honest
too clear too pained
and you left
untouched.
 
English Breakfast Love Song and other poems are © Rhiannon Grant

Rhiannon Grant lives, writes, and teaches in Birmingham, UK. Her writing engages with questions about religion, philosophy, how we understand the world, and how we communicate with one another. Most of her published work so far has been in academic journals, but she has a book on Quaker theology forthcoming and some poems recently appeared in the magazine A New Ulster.

Advertisements