Friday, 21 December 2012

The name game

I'd love to say my blog title is inspired by a love of crafts and all things hand made but alas, my sewing skills are near non-existent despite my mum teaching me to cross stitch when I was younger. For some reason sewing and me never went any further. I hope to change that in the future as one of my long term ambitions is to become more into hand made and thrifted goodies, this has been fuelled by a love of Mollie Makes magazine. I first discovered MM as I browsed magazines on a day out in Birmingham back in January and I fell in love with all the gorgeous projects I could do and quickly set about buying back issues on eBay. More on my love for MM to come at a later date, maybe when I get round to deciding what I'd actually like to try and make first!
Back to the subject in hand, the blog title. The line 'a metre of white ribbon' comes from a poem called Nudeness I wrote nearly a decade ago. In 2003 I was seventeen, most waking moments were spent deep in poetic thought about the future and what I wanted to do after I finished school, despite that being two years away at the time. I would happily dream many lessons away thinking of lines to add to new poems and plots for short stories. I even wrote a short novel, how I would kill to have time to enjoy like that now. Originally Nudeness was written in English with a literal French translation mirroring it on the other side of the page. It was different and sparked a new train of thought within my poetry, I experimented more with language and avoiding the logical. I was deeply in love with anything with a double or hidden meaning, my imagination was captured by a certain individual who very much shared my interests and was encouraged by my interest in interesting things as it later transpired. I started a poetry diary back at the start of 2004 and the entry on Tuesday, 3rd February was Nudeness. I wrote it in a German history lesson, looking back now I have virtually no memory of writing it but it wasn't unusual for me to sit in my lessons and scribble poems in my notebooks after dreaming them up. My lack of attention in class lead me to entering Nudeness in a writing competition up at the local university where I was a runner-up. At a lunch for the winners I was asked if all my poetry was 'erotically charged' and I remember not knowing quite what to say, especially in front of my parents. When I left home in September 2005 to study history in Aberystwyth I set about decorating my sea view room with lots of beautiful and quirky pictures and some of my poems. I can't remember how I came up with the idea but I decided it would be interesting to print the words out to Nudeness and stick them on an actual metre of white ribbon and put it on my door for everyone to see. It just worked and I loved it. I still have that piece of ribbon although the words have long since been removed. It's somehow symbolic to the way I've felt in a creative sense over the past few years, the thoughts have still been there but have been locked away in a corner of my imagination that isn't as free as it once was. Perhaps over time it will open up again, we will see but for now, here is Nudeness.




Get on the floor,                                                                           




I’m vulgar,                                                                                                 




like you.                                                                                                         



What do we do?                                                                                     




I bind your hands together                                                           


with a metre                                                                                                 


of white ribbon.                                                                                          




Your lip splits                                                                                       


I savour your blood,                                                                               


The taste of sweet bitter blood                                                 


forever lingers                                                                                   


on my palette.                                                                                                     



From the floor                                                                                                 


I see you rise up,                                                           


Out of the ashes,                                                                                     




and firmly shut the door                                                            


against me.                                                                                                        


© Phillippa Rayner 2004

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