A Poem for Keith

My Yoga laughter friend keeps asking..."When are you going to write a poem about laughter Natalie?"
So this is for Keith

Feeling out of kilter
A little under par
In need of a little pick me up
I wandered into Spar

I glanced at all the medicines
In boxes on the shelf
Examining the purchases
Well, it was serve yourself

In brightly coloured boxes
I spotted something strange
Amongst the more familiar drugs
Were an unfamiliar range

One box was labelled Titter
Another said Guffaw
A Chuckle and a Giggle
I chose to buy all four

I took the lot and very soon
Was feeling ten feet tall
Proof that laughter really is
The best medicine of all

Come live in my heart

Come live in my heart
You'll see I have the rooms
Come live in my heart
You'll see where my love blooms
Come live in my heart

What times we both will share
Come live in my heart
Come quickly if you dare
Come live in my heart
I'll hold you dear
Come live in my heart
Be safe from fear
Come live in my heart
And I'll take care
Come live in my heart
Be always there

 

Home

I read the poem Home by Edgar Albert Guest and then the children I was working with wrote their own poems about what makes their house a home. This poem was voted as the best by the class of children and painted onto canvas. It is on display in Maryport Library, Cumbria.

Sea Fever

This poem was constructed from the words in the poem, 'Sea Fever'
The children chopped up all the words to the poem and then stuck them down to create a new poem.
The children them painted the poem onto canvas to create this beautiful piece of artwork.

Cumbrian Fairy Day

Fairy Day

In the sculpture valley
At High Head, Ivegill
Magical Mel is waiting
Your wishes to fulfil
Frogs in the car park
Fish in the pond
Colourful, wonderful windmills
Magic, wavy wands

Sparkly face painting
Yummy sweet stall
Peppa Pig wandering
See fairy dust fall
Gnomes in the river
Drama in a tent
Activities for everyone
A magical event

Instruments of music
Colourful and loud
Fairy wands and fairy wings
Sparkly wands stand proud
A day full of sunshine
Wishes on a tree
A fairy singing on the bridge
And a poetry pixie

Thank you Freya, Taylor, Ava, Amelia and their accompanying adults for helping the Pixie Poet write this poem for Magical Mel

 

 

Illustrated Poetry Canvases

 

A selection of my poems on canvas

Why not have a go yourself ?

 

 

Magazine Poems

Magazine Poetry
All you need is a magazine and glue. Scissors are optional because a different effect can be achieved with careful tearing.
Flick through a magazine looking for a picture that interests you and use the picture as your page. Cut out words and phrases to create a poem and stick directly on to the picture.

Not waving but drowning

Interpretation of Stevie Smith's Not Waving, But Drowning

Circles of Life

The circles of life

Lotus

Love putting words and art together

Red Flag

Sometimes the warning signs are subtle. A change in behaviour or habits, a look or an unease. We are so busy in the fast-paced modern world that we need to look out for those subtle signs that tell us our loved ones may be sinking.

 

Red flag

You should have seen my red flag flying
For I was never subtle in my discourse
You should have seen the warning signs
For I was never subtle with my remorse
You should have seen my ship was sinking
For I was never subtle with my curse
You should have seen my red flag flying
For I was never subtle with my verse

Coming Home

Some relationships are just so intense that one can overdose on emotion. One party pushes too far and the relationship becomes under strain or even breaks. If an understanding can be found much can be learned and the relationship can recover and be even stronger,

Coming Home

 
I tried to squeeze the life-drops
From your heart
I pushed so hard, so needy from the start
This dance of souls, no touch but ever close
Breathing you in, I overdosed
And though the distance seems too great to close
No one can ever tell how winds might blow
If I survive the journey home to you
Perhaps we can begin the dance anew.

 

Creativity

Creativity sets humans apart!

Passion, beauty, poetry
What will your contribution be?
Will you be an artist and paint clouds in the sky?
Or frame the golden sunset to catch the mortal eye?
Will you comfort travellers to find their way back home?
Will you play sweet music or contribute a poem?
Will you feed the hungry or mend the sick and lame?
Will you entertain the masses with the beauty of the game?
Will you stand on side lines or dive in with both feet?
Will you feel the rhythm of a passionate heart beat?
When you knock upon death's door
Seeking heaven's care
I hope that you've done something good
That you'll feel proud to share

Advice for Life

There are many poems that give advice, rules to live by and this is my attempt. If only we could all manage to follow these simple statements...

Positive Thinking

In life allow your heart to seek out love
And count your failures as gifts from above
Breathe in the truth, don’t dance amongst the lies
Lose empty thoughts so you can hear the wise
Support the weak and triumph over wrong
Never pass up the chance to share your song
Conquer fears and spend your days in the sun
Heal the pain of others with compassion
Take the time for your dreams to weave a spell
Seek success then spend your good fortune well

Bus Ride

One sunny day when we were kids, my friend and I took a bus ride. We had no idea where it was going...somewhere in the countryside. When we got to the end of the route we were miles away from home and not sure where so there was nothing to do but just come home. I was thinking about that trip the other day. We were brave to set out on an adventure but not brave enough to get off and explore. Sometimes we have to get off the bus,

Bus Ride

 
I took a bus
Not knowing where it was headed
I settled down for the ride
It climbed out of the town
And headed into the countryside
I admired the view
It stopped
And people got off
And people got on.
I smiled at them
But never spoke
The bus driver looked at me
Through his mirror
And people got on
And people got off
The bus pulled into a layby
All the people got off
I stayed on the bus
The bus driver waited
“Are you getting off?”
He said.
“I don’t know? Where are we?”
“The last stop”
I stayed on the bus
Knowing where it was headed
I settled down for the ride
It wound through the countryside
And back into the town
I admired the view
It stopped
And people got off
And people got on.
I smiled at them
But never spoke
The bus driver looked at me
Through his mirror
And people got on
And people got off
The bus pulled into town.
All the people got off
The bus driver waited
“Are you getting off?”
He said.
So I got off.

 

Natalie Burns

Another Painting

Short and sweet but to the point I think!

Website address

This link is to my website where you can see the work I do in schools.

My Website

Poetry Painting

 

 

I sometimes put my poems on canvas using acrylics. This poem is about allowing oneself to be vulnerable. It talks about falling apart and yet the painting is in the style of Mondrian. At any moment the blocks feel like they could topple, just like many people.

Come Dance

In every culture throughout the world there is dance. Maybe The Hokey Cokey is what it's all about.

Come Dance

 
Come dance
An induced trance
Of collective identity
Bewitched
In a spell of shared ceremony
Let the rhythm make love to you
Intimate
Emotional
It is my healing ritual

 

Tapestry

I wrote this after listening to Tapestry by Carole King in the car one day. I hadn't listened to the album for years.

Frayed at the Edges

My life is
a rich tapestry panel,
an intricate weave
of interlaced threads
from the heart and mind
of an artisan.
A warm palette of a story
knotted in places,
repaired and restored,
a patterned, coloured web of blended hues
that depicts a  complex composition,
an accomplished unravelling.

Tears

Tears are actually very healing and we should not fear them. If our body wants to cry we should embrace it. But so many people are told in childhood....don't cry. I was recently in a school and a little boy had made a mistake and started to cry. Another boy laughed at the fact he was crying. I acknowledged his tears and said to both boys it is ok to cry when you are upset. I told them mistakes are fine that is how we learned. The boy wiped away his tears and smiled. I think we all learned something that day.

Tears
 
Tears, I've cried them
Tasted pain
Tears that sting
And fall like rain
Tears dabbed with
A damp tissue
Tears that stay
Just out of view
Tears that roll
And wrack and sob
Tears that make
Eye sockets throb
Tears that hang
And drop like dew
All these tears
I cried for you

Touch

This poem was inspired by the lyrics of a song I heard performed by a friend of my son at a local music venue.

 

Only Sometimes

 
Sometimes when you hold me
You know I’ve already gone
To a place I’ve learned to live in
A place I don’t belong
A place I go to hide myself
When your touch unnerves
You don’t even notice it
Not easy to observe
I slip away just briefly
To another time and place
Sometimes when you hold me
Sometimes when we embrace

Invictus

I love playing around with famous poems. Sometimes I give a famous poem to children and get them to cut up all of the words then select and rearrange some of the words into a new poem. Sometimes I just keep the syllable and rhyme patterns and rewrite. Invictus is a rousing poem used famously in the film of the same name. This poem is about trauma.

My Invictus – apologies to William Ernest Henley
 
Out of the day that defines me,
Summer blue and cloudy sky,
I know in order to be free
That a part of me chose to die
 
In the burden of my shame
I did not tell a living soul
No longer will I take the blame
Not for what they took, but stole
 
Deep in that place of wrath and tears
I will step out from shade,
And let the menace of the years
Inside my head be no longer played
 
I cannot change past behaviour,
But I will strive to be whole,
Only I, can be my saviour,
I will be the healer of my soul.

Lotus

The Lotus flower is quite beautiful and worshipped, yet flourishes in dirty waters. From humble beginnings we all have the capacity to grow beautifully wherever we come from.

Lotus

In the muddy waters of my attachment
I float
In peaceful apathy
Sleeping, sleeping, sleeping
In the muddy waters of my desire
I love
In unstained purity
Breathing, breathing, breathing
In the muddy waters of my growth
I meditate
In calm stability
Burning, burning, burning

Forums

I wrote this poem about on-line forums. The Internet is a powerful tool for both good or evil. On-line forums can be a great place to feel less alone and share your woes anonymously.    

A place of shelter
I have found
Virtual friends
With love abound
A place to rage
A place to cry
A place of love
A place to sigh
A place of safety
Kind and good
A place where
I feel understood

Hugging

There is much debate in therapy about hugging. Some therapists are happy to offer a hug at the end of a session or during moments of emotion but other therapists see hugging as a boundary crossing. Myself, I think safe hugs are enormously healing.

 

To hug or not to hug

 
If only you would hug me
You look so safe, so warm
But hugging is forbidden
Not hugging is the norm
I think sometimes you’d like to
Your heart is warm, not cold
You never take me in your arms
Your boundaries always hold
You warn me of the danger
That careless hugs can cause
I curse the regulations
Of these therapeutic laws
A hug says I’m not dirty
A hug says I am pure
A hug says I am loveable
Acceptance and a cure

Final Breath

What will you think of, when you take stock at the end of your life?

Final Breath
 
When you take your final breath
And leave this ancient land
I hope you are respected, and someone will hold your hand.
I hope that you have travelled
I hope that you have seen
Deserts, mountains, oceans, forests and fields of green
I hope you've seen the sun rise
And set in brilliant hues
I hope you've had the frame of mind to take in all the views.
I hope that you have noticed
The little things that count
But most of all I hope that you found love in large amounts

Perfection

Self-harm statistics were recently published for West Cumbria and they were shocking. So much hidden emotional pain. So many teens and adults with wounded children inside.

Perfection
 
She strives for perfection
In an imperfect world
She knows she is a fool to try for more
And as she fights to hold
A frozen smile upon her lips
Her internal world is crashing to the floor
Nothing less than pure perfection
Will ever feel enough
To compensate the damaged child inside
So she dresses oh so smartly
Putting make up deftly on
Knowing life would never be an easy ride
Studying became distraction
So she filled her head with books
Anything to block out sadness and heartache
She looks healthy, fit and strong
To her family and her friends
But inside she knows how close she is to break
Musically she’s rather gifted
And applauded by her peers
She delivers with precision and aplomb
Artistically she’s talented
Of that there’s no dispute
But inside her thoughts are ticking like a bomb
For the cheers and approval,
They will never be enough
She is beautiful and talented and good
But the shame and self-loathing
That sits beneath her skin
Runs down her arm in rivers of fresh blood
She has scars that sit like secrets
Hidden from the outside world
Her cuts give her a moment of release
She knows the pain and heartache
Of a childhood gone too soon
As silently she prays for inner peace

 

I am a Poet

I work as a freelance poet in schools. It is rewarding and fun. I love telling children that their words are important. I say, you have a voice, so use it to make connections with others.

I am a poet
My work is my word
I tell the truth
In lies and the absurd

I am a poet

My work is never done
Always another heart
Or mind to be won
 
I am a poet
I make you think
A therapeutic friend
A published shrink
 
I am a poet
I make you seek
I show you vulnerability
Is not weak
 
I am a poet
My work is an art
I enter your head
But live in your heart

Self esteem

I was in a hotel room in Edinburgh looking out over a park. There was a young woman sitting under a tree and I watched her reading. She looked so happy and absorbed that it prompted me to write this poem

Time out
 
There she was again,
beneath the oak,
cross-legged and smiling,
holding the book
balanced loosely on bended knees
with that satisfied look.
She laughed
as the wind gently lifted her fringe
from a partially obscured face
and she briefly lost her place.
Her eyes sparkled with interest
as they danced across the text.
A leaf dislodged by the breeze
rested unnoticed on her shoulder,
so absorbed in the pages was she,
so free.
Her skin was lightly tanned,
unblemished and fresh
she cared not for the time
nor how long she sat
and how I longed for that.

 

 

Trust

When we've been hurt it takes time to learn to trust again

Time to Heal
 
Though you make my head spin
I push you away
Though I want you in my arms
I never ask you to stay
Though your kiss is gentle
I don’t let you in the door
When I lay in bed alone
I know that I want more
Though my heartbreak is past
It hurts to trust
And as you pledge your love
I do feel lust
Though my body aches for yours
I long to feel
Though my love for you is strong
I need more time to heal

 

Healing

There are times when we all feel a little broken and I wrote this when feeling a little vulnerable.

 

Scattered

 
Where do I go to get mended?
To reattach the petal fragments
of my daisy head. He loves me…
He loves me not
To gather up the scattering
of my seed strewn soul. To find
the missing piece
of jigsaw. The incomplete face
I don’t see in my dreams.
The blood and misery of a
new deck, split;
an un-loved plaything discarded
on a mosaic of grass and mud;
shards of broken reflections
embedded in blank eyes
and the disconnect
of a once perfect round pebble
crashing and rolling in human surf.
Where do I go to get mended?

 

Loved

It is what we all hope for isn't it? To be loved and know it!

Loved
 
The sky may be grey, the bitter winds blow
But remember my words wherever you go
Wrap up warm, keep cold fingers gloved
And wherever you are, know you are loved
 
Your plans may go wrong, the day may turn sour
But remember my words with each passing hour
Days can be saved, plans can be shoved
And wherever you are, know you are loved
 
The night may be dark, and you may be alone
But remember my words at the end of a phone
Though sometimes we pray to a power up above
Wherever you are, know you are loved

I was driving to a meeting and listening to Madonna's 'Forbidden Love' when I had an idea for a poem. I pulled over into a layby and wrote this poem and then continued to my meeting feeling very pleased with myself.

In your eyes

In your eyes
I am acknowledged
In your smile
I feel accepted
In your kiss
I taste redemption
In your touch
I'm not rejected
In your voice
I hear compassion
In your arms
I feel completed
In your love
I am replenished
In your life
I'm undefeated

 

I do love to rhyme and my friends usually like my rhyming poems the best. Children also love rhyming poetry in school. I like to show them how to rhyme and discuss rhyming patterns and I like to show then the online rhyming dictionary .... www.rhymezone.com

I wrote this poem one night. It just all came tumbling out of me at high speed.

 

A Stream of poetic consciousness

 

Some people dance and some they sing

Whilst me I like to rhyme a thing

Cat and sat and mat they’re easy

Love, above and dove so cheesy

Far more complicated though

Are Bordeaux and Vincent Van Gogh

Or is that Vincent Van Gogh

(Pause for cough)

It’s really fun to stretch myself

With words like Continental shelf

Plunder one’s vocabulary

For words that rhyme with constabulary

It’s childish but it’s rather fun

Like scoffing down a sticky bun

It never bores. I never tire

It often fills me with desire

Too intellectual for foreplay

You’d rather watch a steamy play

Or re-read Fifty Shades of Grey

See look how far the mind can stray

So back to rhyme I’m using pairs

Or couplets if you must split hairs

William Shakespeare sometimes rhymed

But they didn’t always scan and they weren’t always well timed

LOL I wonder can you rhyme and text

AFAIK but I’m out of my depth

See what I did there, a near rhyme

Emily Dickinson did it all the time

There even exists gendered rhyme

So Masculine the word sublime

Whilst the Feminine was once a fashion

Rarely used with any passion

And is there a rhyme for every word?

Not for purple so I heard

And to try and find orange in the rhyming dictionary

Could cause a cardiopulmonary

 

 

 

I wrote this poem one afternoon after reading a blog that asked the question, "What is your passion?"
It started out as 'What is your passion?' but ended up as Who is your passion?

Who is your passion?

Who is your passion?

Who is your muse?
Who lifts you up when you’re down with the blues?
Who brings you comfort?
Who makes you sing?
Who makes you feel like the first day of spring?
Who makes you smile?
Your pupils enlarge?
Who do you see when you want to recharge?
Who makes you quiver?
Who makes you shake?
Who makes you laugh till your sides start to ache?
Who brings you joy?
Swells you with pride?
Who makes you walk with a spring in your stride?
Who brings the sunshine?
Makes your day bright?
Who doesn’t care if you’re wrong or you’re right?
If these questions are answered
With someone you know
Hold them and love them and don’t let them go

Natalie Burns