I am an interdisciplinary artist, poet, educator and folk musician. This page is for my poetry. There are some strong themes, some funny stuff, some sad motifs. Just letting you know dear reader.
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Dream Poem 106; Pull a Corner
I never wanted to enter conversations
in shop doorways.
Just pull a corner out and I can do the rest myself
Angel Andrea - charcoal drawing on cartridge, A1, Frances-Ann Norton It is wonderful to be working with instagram@alicemaryjelaska once again in the Pop-up-space Hackney, Mare St, London. for an exhibition of visual art and poetry in February 2024. The theme was Tea and Friendship. Angel Tea The pictures on my phone divide into days, events, trips, workshops. Important, in-focus ones are instagrammed, facebooked and tweeted. What about the in-betweeny photos? The ones that are unchosen, abstract, blurred, accidental handbag shots. These need further study, they are more than they first appear, less than rejects. They represent moments of autoethnographic honesty, unheard dialogue, fear, tears, tech-impatience or pure love. So interesting and to be banked for another day, a future art-investigation-project. When I seek to unravel and analyse these images, make meaning out of them… I see the visitation of the Angel of Communities, in the corners and on the edges ...
First published in Collect Arts Summer 2023 edition Stone all the flowers The year of the art school tutorials. The difficult woman you are to me, and the difficulty I present to you. The year of my recovery and your husband’s death. Your husband fails and worsens through the days of our trimesters together. As he weakens and declines, I grow incrementally stronger. As if terrible fatalistic scales of balance, set and reset. Do not cheat her. Give her a full measure of time and experiences with him. Pressed down, shaken together and overflowing. She, in the face of all this decay Chooses to destroy flowers with stones. Until their purple hearts stained the cartridge with their elemental pigments. She cuts the flowers only to waste them in the parching sun. It is the cycle of being and unbeing, the grass withers and the flower fades (Isiah 40:8). She decides to press her flowers till their lungs burst on fine co...
Dream Poem 41: Liars and Cheats On a tour of Papua New Guinea, Our group are visiting some people in a small village in the Highlands. It’s all going wrong. People are behaving badly to each other Disrespecting local customs and walking through corn fields, crushing the corn. At the village shop we are causing jealousy and bad feeling, buying too much food and junk snacks crisps and sweets. People in the queue are tutting and judging and saying “it’s not fair.” We want to leave as the situation is getting worse but one of the women of our group has disappeared into a neighbouring house and she won’t come out. She says she wants to stay. I resign myself to that fact. I’ve tried to persuade her but she is adamant she is staying. I go to negotiate with the host, the owner of the house. He says he has an important confession to make, “What is it?” “I haven’t been honest with you.” He says. But now, becau...
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