A Lassie’s Envy

I stand with my eyes closed 

Imagining your breath slowly steaming my eyes

The moist breeze in my neck 

Makes me shiver and get closer for warmth and comfort 

Longing your touch 

Longing your voice saying my name

The bottle of whiskey steams too 

In your breath of appreciation.

I’m jealous!

I don’t taste like peaty exotic honey. 

Do I make your lips tingle like her?

Please swallow me in slow sips, 

In between the fast chords of your guitar, like you do to her…

Take your time in my sweet lips too

And then leave me again…

Put me down on the table, waiting for another thirst spell! 

I’ll just be watching you play. 

In the dark cold nights of deep introspection, 

You can swallow me in big gulps 

I’ll make you dizzy and dazed, 

With lost loose thoughts of ‘maybes’ and ‘what ifs’. 

I’ll make you feel better.

But I know I just won’t wash your throat with the same warmth 

I know I just won’t make you long for me the same way. 

(A poem for a Burns Night competition for Malt of whiskey- submitted on 28th January 2024)

The Arms of the Tree

 

I want the arms of this tree

To hold me so tight that it stops my breathing and my brain and heart slows for a second.

To hold me so tight that even if I fight to go, it just won’t let me and it tells me to stay.

To hold me so tight that it renews my breathing with new oxygen it produces. 

To hold me so tight that, eventually, I just rest there, still… waiting for the apple to fall on my head in a late summer night. And the skies and the weather change around me. And I’m still there, and the tree is still there. 

I want the light of this moon, to be like the light in your eyes when you look at me. 

Not necessarily as bright as the stars, but at least the reflection of my own light and proximity to you. 

I want to feel the multiple branches embracing my fears in the stillness of the night… so my body finally feels safe. 

By Margarida Ventura 

Grief

Today my baby would have been walking; wobbling with confidence across the room. 

They would be talking some words and simple phrases filled with meaning and mistakes, given their raw interpretation of the world. Like a poet, trying to make sense of life with words…

I would be laughing and cherishing them with all my heart.

Instead… I make shapes of hearts with my hands, where your short life was…

I hold my belly with the same gentle care I held you. 

I cuddle my body that failed me, the same body I have learned to love again. The body I dance with, creating beautiful shapes in the air… The body that runs and skates around to try to find joy in life. 

Today I’ve cried, but I know I will also laugh. 

Dear cake tin (Poem)

Dear cake tin

You carry sweetness and love 

Backwards and forwards

You have visited many houses, 

but always return home, 

from a couple of pleased hands and a smile

In a box, a magic potion of ingredients have been mixed and baked into treasures of flavour 

You must have your own favourite delight

But you’ll carry any experience the same way as any other, with strength and care, 

Light in weight and heavy in experiences

I wish you always full of wonders and never with deceiving emptiness.

Margarida Ventura

Performed on 25th June at Mosaic Tap

Lego pieces

Human connections…

They break you and they build you 

in no apparent order…

Every time you have to put the puzzle pieces together,

You get better and better at it.

The Lego pieces are shattered on the floor…

And hurt my feet as I try to move forward. 

Ouch! 

But the more I build, 

The less pieces are left behind to hurt me, over and over… 

I am building my puzzle with a solid foundation… 

So, when the elements of life try to knock it over, less pieces will leave my construction!

Only some, or none will be falling!

And I’m still whole and recognisable!

I can then walk without worry of pain, 

Without worrying about my pieces left behind on the floor… 

I’ll just move forward at my steady pace, passionate for life and hopeful for the future!

Margarida Ventura

10th August 2023

About another heartbreak… 

Gaia in Durham Cathedral

(Photo credit: Durham Cathedral)

What a beautiful world!

If you look from far enough,

The clouds blend land and sea.

No borders are visible 

And stings of white webs

Connect everything and everyone!

These colours bring you peace.

From here you don’t see 

The black smoke of fire

That comes from burning landfills;

The red faces of anger

With the other; 

The yellow sands

Of the invading deserts.

Only the green heart 

And the blue soul of earth.

The smells from your mothers kitchen

Are blended with summer roses

And the rainy soil after a storm. 

What does it smell like from over here? 

I breathe easily from here. 

I am small and insignificant. 

My problems are too far away.

My hands can only embrace 

My hopelessness to fix everything 

And my neck that connects me to my body. 

Neck that I squeeze from time to time

To remind me of the power of oxygen 

That feeds my thoughts!

Where is the sun?

Sun that brings smiles to the living, 

Warms our hearts

And energises our skins! 

Basking away from the shadows.

Shadows that darken our souls

And disconnect us from others…

The sun is much further away!

But you’ll chase that light,

Collect that warmth,

And momentarily close your eyes 

As you face this warm light…

Like a contradiction 

Like establishing boundaries 

With your own happiness!

I want to open my eyes

Towards the light of the sun,

Without fears of blindness!

I want the sunsets and sunrises 

To reflect a beautiful colour in my skin

As I share a smile and a tear with you

Connecting, like those clouds,

But thicker! 

Where we can’t find the beginning

Or the end of our bodies; 

Before we separate 

And jump between the blue 

and the green of this world. 

I sit in a church 

Observing this wonder… 

Wondering this and more!

Reflecting on the roundness 

Of this earth and my own life!

This circumference is drawn 

With my finger in the air… 

Going up, then down, 

And then up again.

Never ending 

And never back to the start. 

Reflecting on the cracks and mountains

That make earth so beautiful!

Is this what makes me beautiful too?

Are the rivers,

and lakes,

and oceans,

How much the earth has cried?

Margarida Ventura 

27th July 2023

Imagining seeing Gaia in Durham Cathedral

This place is special to me

First time I have attended a mass in England, and questioned why there was a bird as an altar. Where I found Portuguese art from Paula Rego and a dramatic wooden sculpture which is barely carved. I have brought so many people to explore this place. Every time a new experience. From tired bats, to silky stringy spider webs. Spider webs that inspired my first poem in English in November 2022, together with a turbulence of emotions lived that day.

Poem - spider webs

 Spider webs!

A network of fibres. Interconnected strings of protein, that get thicker and thicker with time.

If left to it’s own devices, the spider will build a thicker, silky and gentle curtain of wonder and beauty! 

A curtain that decorates this window, obfuscating the light that tries to spy in-between the threads. 

This window that reflects the past in my emotions and diffracts my attention to the autumn leaves. 

This window that shows me a world of wonder and beauty! 

A river that flows fast after the rain has passed, carrying with it the debris of the storm!

An old tree that has been through years of famine and years of plenty! Plenty of nourishment that makes her leaves thrive and glow… and the famine that leaves a thin annual ring as a reminder of stunted growth and weakness.

A castle that has seen humanity. A castle that has seen lights pointing at it to highlight its beauty, and cannons pointing for destruction.

I blow this silky curtain, and watch it floating in the air, disseminating dust like glitter, covering me in history and organic matter!

I feel rejuvenated and smile at a sweet memory of better times.

I walk away, leaving this old window to breath free.