Adelaide Road

Workshop 6: Kentish Town Library Workshop

On March 5th I ran a creative writing workshop at Kentish Town Library. Our theme was love and participants were asked to write answers to questions such as - What did your first kiss taste like? What for you is the smell of love? What's your idea of the perfect place to propose/declare your love?

See below for some of the responses -

First Kiss by Chuquai Billy

Violet flavoured Turkish delights sprinkled with powdery sprinkles of love drops
And expectation of innocent discoveries;
Stars drift down from the night sky like sea spray
Tingling in silver and gold sparkles settling on my heart like new fallen snow.

I have a Purple Heart from fighting the lost cause of lost and crushed relationships,
A decorated war hero to replace the empty space where you used to be;

Broken hearts have jagged parts when it's torn apart,
Scars like ridges and valleys
Each with its own story of beginning, middle and endings;
Bits and pieces stitched together like botched emergency meatball surgery;

Fragrances of summer's morning air drifting through an open window,
Sweetgrass freshly braided and burning sacred smoke that mixes with the sage and corral and tobacco as
grandmother sings to the east, the west, the north, the south;
A song to the sisters to heal my poor miserable broken heart;

I'd take her to the top of the World
The Center of Everything
Paha Sapa, the Black Hills
The place where Wakinyan the Thunder Beings live,
Where Tate the Wind sent his son Eya to place the west cardinal point
But Eya disobeyed his father and went instead to visit the Thunder beings And as punishment he now wanders the sky as Mahpia – the Cloud
The place of the Quest for visions, of direction
The sacred place where the Americans carved faces of
Four American presidents in the mountainside like mockery;

Our love lift in flight like Wagle Shun,
two swans rising together in grace
Blessed by Yum – the spirit of the Whirlwind,
she lifts you lightly when you fall in love
Not like her sister Yumini – the tornado wind who spins you like crazy until you cannot stop and you are always at her mercy,
she who brings sleepless nights from unrequited love;

I've died for love over and over
Like the hero melting alone in the sunset in every film
In every greek tragedy
Not explosive and bellowing in howls of despair
My deaths are quiet,
A whisper
The end of the story
A fade to black.

Gloria by Kathryn O'Reilly

By surprise, a tingling sensation
my eyes widened
and closed shut, slowly
stars and space sparkling,
bubbles fizzing - I don't want to waste a moment.
Sweet, fresh and clear, light
like a peach.

Delicately I cup my hands around
you, terrified you will dissolve
into a soft talcum powder, but you
are like the edge of a blade, and
I actually feel very safe.

Your heart to me is brimming with
the passion of deep purple
Steady, sure, loyal to the core.
Your heart, if it isn't red, must be
blue, deep. Your head of wise words,
compassion beyond compare
I'm not even sure if you are aware of your beauty
that radiates from your soul through your
heart of gold.

You are like a rainforest to me,
ever strong - deep rooted, the veins,
the arteries, every connection
to the rest of you - like a spider's web
but stronger than lead
perpetually changing from moment
to moment in response to all the demands made on you.

The lemon drizzle you make me.
A happy day. The strength of you
oozes out of you, beyond compare
you are always there with your flour
covered hands, arms wide. I smell icing and
warm baked cakes. The smell of you
is so familiar like warm wood.

If love was a journey it would be a journey
Where I tick some boxes
Make you proud of me
that makes you thank god you ever had me
I wanna make the posts
Home run, lights burning
through me, in others.

If I were to die for love
I'd die in place of you. If you held my
hand. You would take all the pain away
I'd feel safe and re-assured. Put wellies
on my feet and plait my hair.
Singing to me

Writing from Ruth Smith

My first kiss was like lemon sherbert
and it lasted all day long.

I've touched the stars and found
they're rubbery and smoother than I thought;
brushed with quicksilver.

My heart is a chameleon, grey one moment
blue the next and, if need be, dotted yellow.
It's best when it's green, the colour of dark conifers
or fresh as a spring leaf. It might be all of these things
but never purple.

If it wasn't heart-shaped my heart
would be spherical and able to inflate.
It could roll around with joy or shrink
into a corner when the bad times come.

The smell of love is muffins warming
in the oven, the smell of hay, of raspberry sorbet,
of drizzled almond oil; of the first primrose,
of massed lavender.

The perfect place to propose would be
walking through theatreland with all the lights and crowds
as though it was a normal conversation
blending in with all the other talk.
I would look at the lights and think,
''Oh yes, it's going to be like this – always.'

If love was a journey it would be
on a rugged trail climbing to the sky;
on either side the steep drop of canyons.
There would be times when it led through
Alpine meadows or between red rocks
twisted into fantastic shapes that we'd find
names for as we walked along.

If I were to die for love
I would die noisily, running outdoors
using my last breath to gasp a message
to all the folk who love or have ever loved
not to be afraid, and yes, it was worth it.

My Dear Rosie,

I've thought about you a lot these last few days and hope you don't mind me writing this rather than saying it face to face. I just wanted to sort things out and not get in a muddle as I might do when you were just two foot away.

For months now I've been drawn to you – that smile when I first met you on the stairs. It melted me! Then we exchanged a few words and I expect you wondered why we came across each other so often.

Then we were really talking – about your dad who you're trying to find and never knew – about mine who is lost to me, my star, who I remember every time I pass by. Things like that make you feel close and I expect you've already guessed what I'm going to say next.

You're the one Rosie, you really are! Day and night I can't stop thinking about you. If someone had told me this is what love is like I'd have told them to take a running jump. None of that Romeo and Juliet stuff for me. I was a man in a man's world. Now, every night before going to sleep I bring your face to mind, try to hear your voice and wish you were next to me. But that's going on too fast! It's just a fantasy until you make it real.

Oh Rosie! I hope you don't decide you never want to see me again after reading this but the simple fact is – I love you!

Sam

Writing from Barbara Saunders

My first kiss and it tasted of cigarettes:
I wished it had tasted of freshly mown grass.
Stars are intangible like X- rays,
lighting up your insides, making your bones visible.
My heart is all the colours of sunset -
lemon, cerise, pale green, fading into the calm blue of evening.
My heart is snowdrop shaped, hanging its drooping head
after the struggle to emerge.
Love smells like freesias, carnations and roses
and no less fragrant, like lightly perfumed deodorant
when I rest my head in the soft hair of your armpit.
The perfect place to say I love you is walking together on soft pale sand
in the golden light of late afternoon sun by a blue-green ocean.

If love is a journey, it has the terror of a theme park ride,
going up, up, the pause at the top and the wonderful view
but you know you're going to have to go down
and you have this fear of falling,
this stomach lurching drop, faster, faster
and in the middle of this terror, a sign
saying Smile for the Camera!

It's crazy to die for love – all in one go –
it's death by inches for me,
a coward's death.

Dear Rosie,

I fell in love with you soon after we met for the first time. You were tired, having been traipsing around searching for news of your father.

I couldn't sleep all last night for thinking of you. I finally dozed off and the alarm seemed to ring straight away, interrupting my dreams. My first dream, short as it was, was the sweetest dream of my life. Your arms were round my shoulders, so very cold like a fresh icy stream and I shivered, I was so hot. There were other people there and you paused to speak to them and then your arms closed round my shoulders again. Then I dreamt I was looking into a river and I thought how you reveal your bright, glittering side, but when my shadow falls across you I see into your depths. In your soul I see some dark thoughts. The sun sent buttery rich veins through the clear water onto the rocks and then thunder clouds turned the water navy and I woke up.

Rosie, I woke up knowing I'll always love you. You say you that you are very mixed up and can't imagine why I care for you, that you will make me unhappy, that it wouldn't work. What wouldn't work? You see we are talking about the same thing from different ends, the future, marriage. You say our futures should never be linked, but we've only just met and we're both thinking about it, that this is real. You'd say I was silly if I promised never to marry you, even if you asked me nicely. And I am silly - about you. I want to make you laugh, not cry.

Can I see you this afternoon?

Love,
Sam xxx

Writing from Tom Purcell

The first kiss was the taste of my own nervousness
Melted and set into a cool summer sorbet
Cucumber, canteloupe and garden mint
Too delicate for this awkward young tongue
Tingling with anticipation and inexperience
And served by a beautiful, terrified waitress

In an unending flash of brilliance
I reach out my blind hands
The air trembles audibly
The numb hum of the divine
Through mortal flesh and bones
Lesser matter
Shaken to its core
The touch
Cold and warm at once
Jaws locked
Spine frozen
Senses bursting into flame

Once red
(As most are at first)
Bold, passionate and strong.
Singular.
Simple.
Before the complications make us strange.
It has been many colours since
This chameleon heart.
Black and blue with every beating.
Nicotine yellow with every rued chance,
Watching from afar.
Purple with the waiting
In the endless exile of the non-living.
And green.
Bitter lime-skin green,
With the never-dying envy.

“Your heart is in the form of a bird.”
The Gypsy said.
“A bird of legend I think,
A rare bird perhaps,
A symbol…though its exact form is not…quite…clear…”
She swooned.
And though I knew it was a show,
I felt her eyes had searched my soul,
What had she seen?
What did she know?

She'd played a very clever hand,
My vanity could not stand,
Not to know.
And so, I pressed another coin into her open palm,
In hope of the condor
Soaring on great, golden wings
To pick his prey
Precise and direct.

Or an owl would do
To win, to woo!
With dignity and stately wisdom,
And patience learned from endless night.

Or the phoenix (of course!)
Burning back to battle,
Feathers aflame,
Never to surrender,
Even in death!

The Gypsy smiled a crooked smile,
Almost an apology,
And showed me the Dodo.

Awkward, strange and far too trusting.

Easy prey.

Once I thought it was Parma Violets.
Then I realized I loved the smell of Parma Violets.
Later it was the smell of Joelle Finck.
A smell I never identified the source of,
Though there were certainly strong notes of it in her father's kitchen.
It had a warm dampness to it,
Like washing on the radiator,
And a salty, savoury-ness too,
Heady, rich and soothing.
It crept through the walls of her house,
Into the wooden frame and cotton fibres of her bed,
And permeated her skin and bones.
And though she never knew it,
That was the smell of my love for her,
And I smell it still.

Where to declare my love for you?
Should it be from some high, grand place?
Bellowed from the peak of Sinae or China's Great Wall?
Should it be a public declaration?
Sung to the multitudes at Grand Central Station at 08:00 hours and then again at 17:15 hours (weekdays).
Or alone?
Underneath the covers.
In the in-between hours.
Our hours.

Our love was an extremely perilous journey perversely advertised as a pleasure cruise.
A titanic voyage into the heart of each other's darkness.
With each terrible lurch we clung more desperately to one another,
Blind to the chaos and disaster around us,
Deaf to the pleading cries from the lifeboats,
Lost in each other's eyes,
Wondering who would let go first.

Hear then, the last testament of love's latest Martyr!
Another body to the bonfire of our greatest human tradition!
And for what it's worth,
It may just bring a tear to the eye,
Of a few hardened hearts,
And make the cynics choke on their half-uttered jeers...

My Dearest Rosie,

It is now five hundred and forty three hours (approximately) since the Wednesday evening that Charlotte introduced me to the woman I would fall in love with.

Charlotte is usually quite a responsible and well-intentioned person in my view, so I can only assume that in making this introduction (and in such a casual and matter of fact manner!), she had absolutely no idea what she was doing. From my point of view, she may as well have tied me up in the beer cellar with enough high explosive to give Guy Fawkes a fright, lit the blue touch paper and closed the door behind her. Since that evening Rosie, I have been exploding.

It isn't an unpleasant sensation, but I am struggling for control. I open my mouth and your name wants to leap out of it. I try to focus on any menial, day-to-day task and your face, your voice, your laugh, your way of walking, your smell, you clothes are bursting like fireworks all around me. And, as they do, my heart beats like an excited child. I feel this freedom, this rush of innocence and I just want to drop what I'm doing and run. I want to feel the air in my lungs and the wind in my face and to run to you Rosie, where I feel so alive and so whole and worth something every time you smile.

I'm sorry if this sounds too much, but it is what it is and I never want to lie to you Rose, so I have to tell you. It is frightening and it's strange and it's exciting and profound and it's more beautiful than anything I've ever felt Rosie. I never knew the world could be so colourful.

I LOVE YOU ROSIE KEANE!!!

With all my heart, all my soul and all my being.

Yours Entirely,
Will. X

Writing from Lynn-Marie Harper

Adelaide Road at Kentish Town (2) March 9th 2011

Late into the workshop but:

A kiss, the kiss, soft and new and ochre, warm and moisture rich
Stars are hard and ground and dry and cold of so far

My heart would be mauve/lilac shot through with silver and white.
The silver ripples will flow with bubbles glowing in the dark cavern of the innards.

The hearts shape here would be massed droplets each with a viscous boundary that changed, amorphously pulsing with each beat
And turned each ten beats and opened from centre to periphery each hundred and lay flat during sleep.

The perfect place for a declaration of earthly love is atop a mountain where all 360 degrees of sky could hear each word and the sea and beach lie at its foot.

Love is the journey
And the trip is one
Where, stripped bare of all possessions

The road taken each morning is quite unknown. But the companion from here to the other side of the world and to the further shore is one who each day grows fonder, more known and uncovered. It is the passage through at least a year's sunrises and sunsets. Oceania is the destination and a final return to here and now.

To die for love, in love, with love, by love, through love, all is love, all is love, quietly with a single note, repeatedly, everythingly, holdingly, gracefully held by the angel of accompaniment.

Dissolving, dissolving into an ocean of bliss, warmly, warmly calmly opening all.

Letter to Rosie from Sam

Hey Rosie
Come to the Planetarium with me on Saturday. I'm free, free as a bird, free as a star, come to the stars with me.

I'm doing an early shift so get off at 10.00 am. Meet me at Baker Street tube at 11.00? The mimosa are out now in Regents Park so we can go to Regents Park afterwards where we can indulge your love of the great outdoors (oh that it were a game park in Africa eh?)
That's it with the arrangements. Text me only if you can't make it (otherwise see you there or you're a square!)

My treat this time, been paid now. I've has such a great time with you Rosie O' these last few weeks, O that it will last! I hope you feel the same.

Will our next date be on Mars or Venus? Let Mercury join us in our Starship Enterprise endeavour! Or is that Starship Endeavour Enterprise?

See you Saturday,

Love, yes, love!
Sam the man

Writing from Anna Collums

Adelaide Road

Love

My first kiss was tart and sweet apple crunch,
the stars felt like pins and needles.
My heart is many colours, yellow with sunshine, green with jealousy, pink with butterfly nervousness, puce with nausea,
My heart is the shape of tree roots, grounded, muscular, reaching into your inner depths, reaching out to grasp others, to grapple and twist together, entwine and pull,
Love smells of mimosa, Daphne, mown grass, dark deep water,
I will declare my love at the borders of forest and lake where bright sunlight dapples linear slender trunks and makes jewels on the water.
Our love is a bicycle ride, the slog of pushing up hills, the speed and wind in our faces when we free peddle down them, the struggle against wind determinedly pressing us to change direction, the companionship of a bicycle built for two.

Letter to Rosie

Dear Rosie,
Meeting you has changed so many of my ideas about love. When I was young I thought I could fly to the moon. That belief was shattered when my dad tried to fly to the stars but ended thirteen floors below at the bottom of our tower block. Now I think love can give us wings and we can fly forever. I used to think you couldn't die from love, but your love gives me life and joy in living and I can't imagine living without you.

My heart is yours,
Sam

Bubble by MA Rasheed

John and Susan was a lovely and sociable couple live at the end of a sun-drappled lane and had a teen aged daughter Julie who was a great joy to her parents.

Time was passing very fast and Julie was growing faster. After completing her high school she joined college for her higher education and her parents were proud of her rapid progress.

One day she returned from college and shouting “mother” “mother” where are you. I have exciting news for you.

Susan – what is the matter with you, why are you shouting?

Julie – I got merit in my subjects and got scholarship for further studies.

Susan - that is a wonderful news Darling and I am proud of you.

Julie – Thank you mother, you are so sweet.
Mother don't tell father, I will tell myself as he promised to buy for
me a new mobile if I get good grade.

Susan – I promise that I won't tell your father.

In the evening when John returned home. Julie ran and gave a big hug. Poor man was shocked and surprised.

John – what is the matter with you Julie?

Julie – I got scholarship for passing my exam with flying colour.

John – that is a good surprise and I am proud of you.

Julie - do you remember that you had promise to buy a new mobile.

John – of course Darling I remember. Tomorrow is Saturday. We will go to shop and buy a mobile of your choice.

Julie – than you father.

Months and years were passed and Julie has completed her university degree. Being a brilliant student and with a good degree Julie got a job without any struggle.

At a office party she met Bryan - both were attracted to each other and fell in love.

After a brief engagement Julie got married and moved to Bryan's flat.

Julie was very close to her mother and visits her quiet frequently.

One evening when Julie went to see her mother. Susan was in hurry and going out with full make-up and nicely dressed. Julie asked her mother – are you going out mother she told her “yes Darling” and I am in hurry to see an old friend. Julie was shocked with that unusual behaviour of her mother.

Similar things occurred quiet frequently. Julie got suspicious and wants to know what was happening?

One day Julie decided to spy on her mother and followed her. She took a bus to The Mall and got out and walked to a café. A handsome man nicely dressed was waiting impatiently. She went to him and kissed. Julie was shocked but controlled herself and went straight to her parent's house and waited for her mother to return.

Julie was deeply hurt. It was beyond her wildest dream that her mother would do such a despicable thing to her father which was unforgivable. She was sulking and killing her time.

A few hours later she heard her mother's foot steps.

Julie got out of lounge and confronted her mother.

Julie – had a lovely time mother and how long it is going behind my father's back.

Susan – I don't understand what are you talking about?

Julie – stop pretending – you know perfectly well what I am talking about because I saw you.

Susan was trembling like a leaf with tears in her eyes.

Julie – I don't want my father to be hurt. It is your life and I have no right to interfere in your life.

Susan succumbed in a chair and sobbing. Julie left without saying anything.

Love bubble burst so sudden.

by Adelaide Road Participants  |  9 comments

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