Black and Red - poem

A new poem for you all. 

Inspired by: doodling red and black hearts in my notebook (as if I am twelve...)When: 27/11/2013 in lecture

Black and Red

Black hearts against the red.

Can you see them?

They are the brightest hearts

(sometimes.)

Those lovers:

their eyes shine.

They are clever and bold and bright

and cruel.

(Like we were.)

We were shining, weren't we?

We were, and still are, 

young

with red-blood pumping.

Through time, we've changed. 

Your heart is matte now,

mine shines in the dark.

You can have the Sun my love, 

and I shall watch the stars

(Our stars.) 

You will learn to love again.

I shall finally learn to live.

My black, black heart

oh, how you made it beat.

You still do, you know

(but do you know your effect on me?)

I think you will love her

she isn't the one, but she is Alive. 

Enough for you, anyway.

(She isn't me, is that good?)

I wasn't enough. (Could I have been?)

OR: I was too much, perhaps?

We have danced together

beneath the stars.

Will I feel the light of the Sun

on my skin again?

There is no heat on my skin.

Not anymore.

You are alive, my darling.

And I shall be forever jealous;

guarding my stars in the black night

that is my heart. 

It's published!

Here it is my amazing blog followers: "The Snow Killer" on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00GS7YPNC/ref=cm_sw_r_an_am_ap_am_gb?ie=UTF8


It's £4.11 on amazon.co.uk 

Fairy Tales with a Twist Series: Cinderella

Hi Blogger!

I've decided to do a small series of 500+ entries to do with fairy tales. 

Now, Disney has done very well in telling us the fairy tales of the past centuries, but they haven't really been modernised: it's always that non-descript Medieval era, (with the exception of "The Princess and The Frog" which looks like fifties America).

This is all spurred from a lecture I had on Thursday, and we posed the question of how different the stories would be if you changed elements such as: location, gender, sexuality, time frame, era, etc.

I'm starting with Cinderella, and will confess now: all of my fairy tale knowledge derives from Disney.

"Cindy: this is the third time this month you've been caught in town outside curfew. I won't stand for it any longer.” Rebecca took the girl's limp hand, and tried to ignore the biting stare from her eyes.

"You need to understand that we have rules here, and now you are a part of this community-"

"It's not a community; it's a dumping ground for strays." Cindy pulled back her hand and slumped back in the orange chair. "I want to go home."

"Cindy, you can't go home. Your step-mother lost the custody plea after your father... we will help you find a new home. Or you can go for a foster family? Would you like that?"

"Can I go to my room now?"

"Chores first I'm afraid. And its film night tonight, doesn't that sound fun?"

"Not really." she looked down at her feet. "What are my chores?"

"Clean the kitchen floor."

"Fine." The girl stood up to leave, but Rebecca called after her.

"Cindy? Can I trust this is the end of the anti-social behaviour?"

"No." Cindy walked out of the office and towards the kitchen.

- - - 

Cindy pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialled a number. RING RING RING - "Yo, Prince? It's Cindy. You've got to get me out of here, they're driving me insane. Twenty minutes? Fine. See you." She put the phone back in her pocket and carried on mopping the floor. 

- - -

Cindy shut her bedroom door behind her. The one good thing about the Far Far Away Children's Home was that she had her own room, right at the top of the house, in the attic. She searched for her bag and picked up some of her clothes. When she found the bag, she stuffed them inside and rummaged around her room for other things.

"Where's my goddamn lighter?" Cindy patted herself down but couldn't find the pink flip lighter she had gotten from Prince for her birthday. 

Prince was her best friend, lover and dealer. She literally couldn't do anything without his say so. Even when she was living with her step-mom and step-sisters, he was always there to rescue her and take her far away. 

That's what a lover/dealer is so good at: they can make your dreams come true just by adding a little magic dust. 

Cindy's phone rang in her jacket pocket, and she answered it through her headphones. "Sup?"

"I'm outside. Where are you?"

"I'm just grabbing some stuff. I'll be like two minutes." She hung up with the click of a button and carried on packing. 

A knock at the door startles her. "Can I come in, Cindy?"

"Fuck." She whispered. "Yeah one second." She kicked the bag under the bed and straightened up her covers. She walked over to the door and opened it. "Hi. What's up?"

"Are you coming down for film night?"

"I have a bit of a headache actually. I think it was the fumes from the bleach. I'm just going to lie down for a little while." Rebecca looked at the tall blonde girl in front of her and worried.

"Are you sure? It's the girls' choice tonight. Is there nothing you want to watch?"

"Honestly, I just want to lie down. But I'll come to the next one."

Hesitant, Rebecca said her goodbyes and left Cindy alone. Cindy shut the door, grabbed her bag and climbed out of the window, and ran into the arms of her Prince. 

The Dragon Statues

Stemming from my "Kent Connections" lecture this evening (it finished at 7:00 pm), I have written a short Dickens-based description piece about the dragon statues that feature in two of the photos( see "Home"). 
These dragons were purchased by me for my step-dad for his birthday (or Christmas, I can't quite remember) last year. It explores the idea of mystical beings and dragon-lore, whilst attempting to include extended (sort of) metaphors and just general description. This was written in three minutes, and minus some type-up, has not been edited. 


The fire-breathers, as they once were: a tall and proud mystical creature; stood side-by-side-by-side upon the dust. Bright young colours dimming their natural beauty - black stones where emeralds should shine. 

They have no princess to guard, only dust. 

They are regarded as a proud creature, but how could one be proud if made of stone and the stroke of a machines mechanical brush? 

Not loving; not adoring; not even fully aware of the presence of such magnificence: are the dragon owners, but rather: consciously observant of two-inch tall "cute" dragon statues on a forgotten mantelpiece, out of reach to anyone with the imagination to love them. 

Home

Home, a set on Flickr.

This is a project I did for my Kent Connections lecture @ Canterbury Christ Church University. It had to be images of our home, and what made it home for us. A little background info for you: my mother and her partner run a pub in Dartford, and that is where I consider my home to be. It is a lovely pub that I have ten years of memories of.

Have you tried Wordle?

I made a Wordle of this fabulous blog! it's a great site to use, especially if you are stuck for ideas, or just really love words!

Make your own Wordle by going to www.wordle.net






The link to my own Wordle:

<a href="http://www.wordle.net/show/wrdl/7175146/Melissa_Holden%27s_Blog" 
          title="Wordle: Melissa Holden&#39;s Blog"><img
          src="http://www.wordle.net/thumb/wrdl/7175146/Melissa_Holden%27s_Blog"
          alt="Wordle: Melissa Holden&#39;s Blog"

          style="padding:4px;border:1px solid #ddd"></a>

The Canterbury Derive

A dérive:  "is an unplanned journey through a landscape, usually urban, on which the subtle aesthetic contours of the surrounding architecture and geographysubconsciously direct the travellers, with the ultimate goal of encountering an entirely new and authentic experience."

I was asked to complete a dérive through notes, recordings and images. I've decided to share my findings with you, and: the result of my "unplanned journey" of Canterbury Christ Church University.

www.canterbury.ac.uk/support/fitness-centre/docs/CampusMap.pdf

Directed by tweets by @Heidi_Colthup, my lecturer at CCCU; I left Ramsey, and headed out from the building towards Touchdown, but was halted by Hannah, who "needed a fag". And so, I photographed by surroundings:

I then continued my derive with the tweets:

#cccuDerive What’s under your feet right now?

#cccuDerive take a left turn NOW ;) 

#cccuDerive find something RED – photograph it

 

#cccuDerive Find an old wall

#cccuDerive Find some writing around you. Collect FIVE words

#cccuDerive Find somewhere to write. Sit & write for 10 minutes. Write ANYTHING.

 So there we go, the unplanned journey, and it led me to a leaf on a page and a jumble of words.... at least it stopped raining!

Mel x

banters in canters, or melancoly in Canterbury?

Hi bloggersphere! 
(to be said loudly and with a hint of irony)

I've recently moved to Canterbury, for work and university, since they shut my beloved UCF down, and well, my old job was rubbish. 

Any who, because I've moved in six weeks early, I've found myself with a lot of free time. Although I have worked nearly every day, it's 12pm to 4pm, and on a quiet day, there is NOTHING to do. 

So, I decided to start exploring Canterbury, local to my house. In my first week, I'd walked up and down the high street at least ten times, been to St Martin's Church (I'm an atheist so I can only appreciate the architecture), found the Post Office/ Londis, found another Londis, figured out my perfect routes to work, university and town, spent two hours sitting in King George VI Memorial Field, found a graveyard/neutral space, walked around my garden and figured out the best places to buy cheap food (heads up students: it's Poundland and Waitrose...)

That was all in one WEEK... Oh dear. This is my third week here, and I'm going crazy, which isn't good considering four days of that I was actually in Dartford picking up some of the rest of my stuff. 

Oh, and I read three books. 

Since Thursday, I've signed up for the 30 Day Free Trial on Love Film Instant www.lovefilm.co.uk/instant, and I've watched 11 films. In less than three days. ELEVEN FILMS. 

So, beautiful people of Blogger and Canterbury, I set you a challenge: Find something free, local and time consuming for me to do, and if you do, I'll write an article about it, and add in some free publicity. 

RISE TO THE CHALLENGE!

As I promised: Unipinion

Here we go: UNIpinion: http://issuu.com/unipinion/docs/unipinion__final_edit_

Created by Creative and Professional Writing (BA Hons) First and Second Years at Canterbury Christ Church University for our final assignment of the year.


My article is pages 46-47, and is titled, "London, but no bacon".  The magazine contains some fantastic articles, and was edited beautifully.

ENJOY!

(PS: Hope the link works, if not; go to: www.issuu.com and type in "unipinion" to the sites search bar!)

When a Siren calls...

She may look sweet -
she might even be kind.
But her life's aim,
is to break your mind.

When a Siren Calls:
it's the sweetest thing.
It's what sailors lust for,
the wenches that sing.

Her lullaby calls,
and it's his undoing.
"Her love I know!"
He cries as she will sing.

Bewitched at sea,
his grave will say,
death after lusting,
When the Siren called that day.