By Alysha Radia
Caroline’s incredible writing workshops
Last week I partook in one of Caroline’s incredible writing workshops. It felt so good to dedicate 3 hours or so to just sitting and writing and letting words flow from my brain to a page without much purpose or hindrance. It has encouraged me to write in this way as often as I can – it’s mindfulness and copy practice all wrapped into one and those are both things that I desperately need right now.
Here is one of the poems that came out of that class. I hope you enjoy it.
I remember long tube rides on the Piccadilly blue, and sticky straws and Starbucks cups,
I remember itchy seats against furry thighs.
I remember mackerel scales coating chipped nail polish,
I remember salt-whipped air on eyelashes.
I remember the stench of the dock,
I remember Boney M and dance routines,
I remember silk waistcoats and glockenspiels that clinked almost, but not quite, in unison,
I remember understanding musical harmony before anyone else in the class and feeling smug,
I remember crying over and then into a bowl of Rice Krispies. Snap, crackle, plop.
I remember sitting on peas in the school hall floor during assembly and flicking them off my shoe with a scrunched up nose.
I remember the news that day,
I remember cockroach in sweet and sour sauce that dripped,
I remember discovering noodles,
I remember saying that I was a vegetarian but still picking chicken out of my dad’s fried rice,
I remember savouring the umami scent of the Old Library,
I remember the smell of our old mint green Mercedes and the crumbs my little brother used to get caked into the seats,
I remember hating it.
I remember hands like sandpaper wrapped around an icicle,
I remember a pinkie toe like a Merlot grape,
I remember throbbing veins and orange juice,
I remember slashed chins, blood and peanut butter cookies,
I remember sweet mangos on salty sweet rice against the backdrop of rickshaw horns.