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…
Just keep swimming
Swimming swimming swimming
What do you do?
“Swim, swim, swim”
Here are Sydell’s Poems, for our Hull Refugee week workshop, beautifully written in gold…
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
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 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?
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
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
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
There were some amazing poems and art created at our My Ancestors were French workshop for Hull Refugee Week at Creator College yesterday. These guys Craig and Joe produced an awesome human beatbox rap. Keep an eye on the blog for more photos, work produced and film coming soon.
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
Alone
No family
Left my country
I miss the culture
Isolated
Different
It smells
Glaring at people
They glare at me
Outcast
Silent
So pungent
Clinging to everything
I’m engulfed in aromas
Sweet
By Louie Smith
Beginning to leave
No family, friends
Without a home
Waiting for taxi
Feeling very lonely
A beautiful country
Pausing, thinking back
Missing my home
Reaching my destination
The old school
Dark empty corridors
And empty silence
Nobody speaks English
Thinking of home
Want to leave.
By Georgia Hannant
Freedom
How wonderful
I am leaving
To a better place
Home
By Joe Bastable
War
Thirst, famine
Fires raging furiously
My demons haunting me
Death
By Becky Stone
The quiet swan swam
Death is around the corner
The swan must depart
Anon.
Isolated
Trapped here
Monsters hurl stones
My shadows haunt me
Alone
By Josh Whittingham
Saving the Slaves
Wilberforce the great
Around the world
But from Hull
The whole time
Hull equals home
He is my
Ancestor and I
Am proud.
By Maisie Drewry
Israel
My ancestors
Persecuted in war
Curious to know more
What happened?
Jewish
Interesting culture
Remembering the past
To understand my history
Family
By Rachel Artley
My Ancestors Were French 
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