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Rachael
Ajao
Winner
of our Top 5 Poets of May 2005 Online
Competition
I
have been writing
poetry for almost
as long as I can
remember but had
never performed or
presented my work
in any kind of
public forum until
January 2005, when
I went along to
the 100
slam just to
see what other
poets out there
were doing, and
ended up entering
the competition.
As I didn’t do
too badly, I
decided it might
be an idea to
enter a few more
slams, which I did
under the
pseudonym ‘Honest,’,
and by April 2005,
I was invited me
to feature at the Farrago
‘No Fooling’
slam and New
Talent Showcase.
Following on from
this, I have since
also featured at
the Farrago Forestry
slam and have been
invited to feature
at further events
to be confirmed.
Inspired
by a new found
confidence, I
began entering
poetry
competitions in
the hope that some
of my work would
one day be
published as a
result of this.
Within a
relatively short
time, I received a
letter from
Forward Press to
say that they
would like to
publish one of my
poems in an
anthology ‘The
Shape of Tomorrow’
(scheduled for
publication July
2005), and two
days later, I also
received an email
from Forward
Press, letting me
know that another
poem had been
selected as the
winning poem for
May! I never
expected things to
happen so quickly
and I am forever
grateful to
Forward Press and
to all those who
have supported and
encouraged me.
As
my influences are
so many and so
diverse I prefer
not to list them,
but instead to say
that I take
inspiration from
everything around
me (from
tangerines to
graveyards), my
experiences and my
relationships with
people; from those
I love to those I’m
still trying to
figure out. I tend
to write in rhyme,
but occasionally
venture outside my
self-imposed
boundaries, for
example for ‘Autumn
from my window,’
which was written
for a friend who
needed a
non-rhyming poem
to use as a
teaching aid for
younger
schoolchildren. I
welcome any
feedback on my
work, so if you
have any comments
or would like to
know about future
events at which I
will be
performing, please
feel free to contact
me.
Autumn from
My Window
As the evenings draw closer
A fire burns the sky
And the leaves start to turn
On the Old Oak tree I see
From my window
The children are wrapped up warm
In hats, scarves and gloves
With great big happy smiles
Kicking piles of leaves I see
From my window
The wind exhales suddenly
Making the trees dance
Whipping hair across faces
Of the carefree kids I see
From my window
It's the changing of seasons
I watch from the warmth
Then paint these pictures I see
From my window.
Gone
but Not Forgotten
Stone
statues cry tears of
granite behind marble
headstones worn with age.
The stems of long dead
flowers once lovingly
arranged
Tell of respects once
often paid;
Memories long since
erased.
Stone statues cry tears of
granite for those that
time has left alone
With no-one stopping by to
whisper of a love once
known.
All that remains is the
date of passing; Name
unknown.
The inscription worn away;
the grass overgrown.
Stone statues cry tears of
granite because there's no
longer someone there
To look after those long
since passed, to show that
we still care.
But a beautifully
manicured resting place
for those who have
departed
Is not a measure of the
love that lives on in our
hearts.
Love
is…
You,
to me
Are the two sugars that
sweeten my tea.
You’re the fondant
filling in between the two
layers of my custard cream
biscuit…
You are catching the last
tube home when I thought I’d
just missed it.
You are a hot chocolate
with marshmallows and
cream,
You are a night in with a
DVD and strawberry
cheesecake ice cream.
You are the uncontrollable
laughter that makes my
face ache;
You are the
melt-in-the-mouth
buttercream at the centre
of my carrot cake.
You that perfect poem that
I’m forever trying to
write;
You are the cooling breeze
on a hot and sticky summer’s
night.
You are the brother Angie
Stone sings about on
Mahogany Soul
You are the one who showed
me how to let go;
You showed me how to love
me, and now I know…
‘Cause you showed me
with your own inimitable
style
What love is…
And it’s everything…
that makes me smile.
Tangerine Dreams
I dream of tangerines.
Orange juicy fruit,
Sticky sweet
Tangerines. . .
I like the way the word sounds almost edible.
I dream of tangerines
And clementines and mandarins
But tangerines are fatter, juicier. . .
Sweeter.
At least they are in my tangerine dreams.
Would
You, Could You
Would
you
Wrap me up in a wish you
didn't realise you held so
close?
Could you
Let your dreams roam free,
Walk hand in hand with
forgotten ghosts?
Could you
Paint me a picture of how
yesterday could be
If my mind wasn't blind to
what my eyes can't see?
Would you
Break down barriers to get
to the other side,
Or would you revert to
type
Lay down inside yourself
and hide?
Could you
Remember a promise from
another lifetime;
Would you
Rise up and reclaim it as
mine?
Would you let yourself see
what you already know
And without looking down,
Could you learn to let go?
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