Refugee Week Workshop Poems and Illustrations

Adam's Tree
Adam’s Tree

Here are some of the beautiful poems and illustrations created at our My Ancestors were French workshop at Creator College for Refugee Week.

Click on an  image to enlarge and scroll through…

Advertisements

Sydell’s Poems in Golden Ink

Here are Sydell’s Poems, for our Hull Refugee week workshop, beautifully written in gold…

Faith

The Auricula Suite

I am drifting
I am following
Following the crowd
Crowds of leaves
Leaves are descending
Descending into fear
Fear of unknown
Unknown language spoken
Spoken broken words
Words of foreigners
Foreigners are scary
Scary foreign lands
Lands of people
People of England
England is beautiful
Beautiful green land
Land of unknown
Unknown foreign people

Horse
Shimmy, gallop
Bolt, shake, natter
Beauty, gentle, innocence, pride
Wild

Fig
Sweet, fruity
Velvety, soft, moist
Sweet, nature, touchable
Luxury, tempting
Edible, juicy
Exotic

Faith

What would you take with you?
My Nanas necklace

Three Words
The dog slept
The dog woke
The dog cried
The dog barked
The dog wagged

The love lasts
The love eats
The love gives
The love grows

The chef baked
The chef cooked
The chef chopped
The chef fried
The chef tired
The chef rolled
The chef proved
By Sydell Faith

Anne’s Poem, Sink or Swim

Anne’s evocative poem from our Refugee Week workshop at Creator College spans a year in a life…

Sink or Swim

I’ve no choice
They are shooting
Jump in now
Water so cold
Border far away
I am frightened
Please save me
Here’s the shore
Gasping, moaning, exhausted
A new future
One of happiness?

Ann McNamara 1
One year later

No – I am hated
They despise me
Take their jobs?
Take their girls?
It’s not true
I need help
To feel safe
To learn English
Get a job
Bring my family
All I need –
A peaceful life.

By Anne MacNamara

Ann McNamara 2

Ilona’s Beautiful Poems

Ilona wrote and read these beautiful poems at the My Ancestors were French Refugee Week workshop at Creator College…

Heart
Emotional mirror
Squeezed so tight
Will it ever recover?
Shattered

Forget your mother tongue
And accept strange sounds as yours
No choice left for you
Ilona in Green
Three Word Poem – The Air

The plain lands
And doors open
The air here
Smells so different

Vast flowery meadows
Lively smelly farms
Bread just baked
All is missing

Instead of all
Smog and dust
And fish shops…
So very strange

Why would you
Leave all this
And swap it
To such uncomfort?

“Some things happen
Time to go.
Try to find
Eager for experience”

Letters
Through the door
They pop inside
To make me
So very happy

“We send you
All our love
Just stay strong
‘Til the end”.

Every single postman
Bringing the letter
Made every morning
So much bearable.

Then the letters
Slowly got rarer
‘I’m still here!
I still remember!’

No more letters
To fill me
With home strength
For the end.

Yet, can’t stop
Thus I’m made
To find strength
Closer to me.

Ilona Urbikaite

Your Ancestors were…?

It’s a poem, set to music, have a listen…

My ancestors were French,
And, for what it’s worth, faith ruled their lives.

Me, I’ve never been to church, and I haven’t been good.
But I’ve made my mark,
And I got in trouble,
Listening to my devil in the dark.

Y’know I’ve always landed on my feet,
And I’ve got a sense of history.
Yeah I’ve always landed on my feet,
And those flowers take me back…

The devil inside, he’s sittin’ on my shoulder,
Pushin’ me out so I’m sittin’ on a boulder
In the middle of the lake.
And the devil can’t swim,
So I’m feelin’ brave and I’m gonna get him.

It’s gonna get colder, if he falls in the lake.
He’ll be off my shoulder, off my back.
There’ll be no more trouble,
Gonna make a fresh start.
Stop listenin’ to the devil…
Gonna listen to my heart.

Gonna listen

To my heart.

© 2012  L. Duffy-Howard, Corey Clough-Howard

Home - anon
Home – anon