Wednesday 18 December 2013

I noticed a competition for a religious poem when I was helping my mother go to her church.  the prize was £250 for your church, though they didn't actually specify it should be a christian poem.  I sat there thinking 'I don't have anything to say about Christianity- well, only this .... ' and that is how this poem grew.  

Only this

Only this,
That He showed the divine within us all.
Being born in a body,
To make choices only a body could make,
Stripped of everything except humanity itself.
Feeling it all – grief, anger, fear, shame.
Even in the midst of ugliness and horror,
The divine is present.
It is the god who suffers,
Who enters life and stays,
Who is in every moment,
Who breathes life, simple life,
Here, now, present,
Even in the worst moments.
Not an outside hand
But within – your deepest wisdom
That He embodied.
Don’t rush too soon to proclaim “Halleluiah, he is risen!”
The gift at the end of suffering
Stay: seek the quiet voice,
The invisible thread of connection,
The divine within and without,
Present in us all
If it would
Only awaken.
©Catherine Blackfeather


Monday 19 August 2013

All Those


All those who bound heavy stones on the brow of this child
Who turned the welcoming meadow
Into flaying blades
That strip and gash the flesh
Of all who stray from the narrow path.

All those who laced the corset tight
About and about this unformed child-body
Stopping breath in rib and belly and liver
Shaming the magical child into hide-bound mediocrity
In a cage of rules and don’ts 

All those who are disturbed, offended
By a spirit burning bright
Lest it ignite hidden lights
In their nearby breast
And unbidden tears well up in dust-bound hearts

I name you
I name you
For what you are

You do not need my curse
I merely shuck off yours
Leaving it, a discarded cloak
Ripped to shreds and worn bare.
I grow out from it.
My new skin is bright, uncut.
Immortal, I re-inhabit Eden.



Monday 5 August 2013

I'm waiting the proof copies of The Crossing Place and Other Stories. I found it best to get the CreateSpace paper copy ready to go before trying to put it on Kindle, that way both versions would be ready at roughly the same time.  Postage for CreateSpace is slow as it's coming from the US. I gave Crossing Place to a friend to read and she said she was scared to be alone in the house at night after finishing it - I didn't think it was scary.  It is a ghost story but is not intended to be scary- it's about a good ghost.  but at least it got to her. 

In the meantime I have been writing a kids' book- the Leprechaun's Tale.  My test audiences have told me it's the best I've done yet, so that's encouraging.  I'd hope I would be improving with practice.  

Another book is all ready in the pipeline.  Boy16 about a teenager growing up gay in a Welsh village.  All I have to do is get the text into format for Kindle and CreateSpace and the cover finished by my friend in Seattle.  

I've no idea how to market any of this.  Writing in lots of different genres creates a problem for me as I have to explore the market for each type of writing. Being a typical introverted writer-type I don't enjoy all that. But I just write what moves me, I don't want to limit myself to just one genre if I get and idea for something different. 

Tuesday 30 July 2013

I do have one new poem.  I've committed the ultimate folly of falling in love with a straight woman- hence the title 'Crazy Love' . Somehow I've managed to avoid that one so far- I've seen many a good Lesbian to go down to this particular one, so I guess the chances of it happening are pretty high. haha

Crazy Love

When I see you
Something in me
Feels whole.
Something strangled
Breathes.
Crazy love
Feels right.

No howl at the moon and 
Wild dance of joy,
Shouting the rooftops
A paean of love.
Only a quiet unfurling 
Of this wilted leaf,
A sun-filled green sap 
Occupying my every pore
In your presence.
Crazy love
Feels right.

That you exist
That you are possible
Makes my world whole.
And I breathe
And have courage.
Crazy love
Feels right.
It's been so long since I've blogged. I've been busy getting my book Mitchie up on Kindle and promoting it, plus getting another one ready.  The next book will be called the Crossing Place and Other Stories.  It was originally just called the Crossing Place but when I got the proof copy of the paper version it was just like a little thin pamphlet and I thought it wasn't enough.  So I have added two other stories.  That has all taken a long time, and I have only just now got the revised cover for it from the lovely friend who does them for me.  
Here is the product blurb for that:

Product info for The Crossing place and other stories

Three stories from the rich imagination of Catherine Blackfeather.
In ‘The Crossing Place’ a group of people find themselves stranded in a strange hotel.  Each one of them must face their own truth and make a life-changing decision.
‘Sleeping Beauty and the Gnome’ gives an original twist to an old fairy-tale.
‘Ketme’ tells the story of one woman’s journey through war and brutality to find love, simplicity and peace.
Each story is a fantasy, told with humour, realism and compassion.  

It won't be long now- I'll get it up soon. I am currently enjoying a free period away from caring responsibilities, and am using the time to work on this, in between dancing.  So watch this space!!  


Sunday 16 June 2013

Check out this video from Second Life- I took part in this project last year as a reader, and hope to create a piece of dance for it this year
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GTsNZU55Ypc&feature=youtu.be

Saturday 15 June 2013

I posted this on a Facebook group called introvert zone. The only response I got was from one of my relatives. So I'll try it here.  If anyone is reading this blog surely some of you must be introverts. Responses please.

Introverts as self- motivated.

I see lots of comments on this site about the need for introverts to spend time alone and how draining it is to be with other people. But what about the other major introvert characteristic – self-motivation? Has anyone found themselves in trouble because of that?
When I look back I seem to have had a pattern of falling foul of authority structures- School, line managers, even spiritual teachers. I’ve never been a rebel, never one of those who just have to buck authority for the sake of it. As an INFJ I actually like to please others and am deeply hurt by hostility and criticism.
But I do find that when I am in a situation where obedience and loyalty are the chief demands- even though usually unstated – I seem inexplicably to fall foul of the system. Line managers take against me, I become an object of suspicion and distrust which quickly turn to scapegoating and victimization. After reading about the introvert personality I have concluded these things happened to me because, as an introvert, I always do things for my own reasons, never solely because I’ve been told to. To me, rules are useful and informative guidelines, to be thought about carefully, then applied where appropriate, not things to be followed without deviation in any circumstance.  If someone instructs me to do a task, at work, then I will bust a gut to do it well and fulfill all requirements, but somehow I think too much while I’m doing that. All my motivation comes so much from within, that even when I am working to a high standard – in fact- often often exceeding what was required- people (extraverts) seem to feel I am not doing what they asked. They can’t put their finger on it, but they just don’t get where I’m coming from and feel they can’t completely trust me - I have actually had that said to me more than once.  As I place a huge importance on integrity and trustworthiness - this is especially hurtful.
In a totalitarian system like the boarding school I attended for 7 years, I would decide for myself what I wanted to do, rather than just obey. I was gifted and intelligent so studying and music practice were my main occupations, so I was hardly being a ‘bad’ girl. But because I had decided my own goals I wouldn’t allow any silly nonsense with pointless rules and demands to get in my way.  So I am probably the only kid in history to get punished in a school for studying too much!!!
I’ve noticed I often seem to earn a reputation for arrogance – I suspect this is a very common label for introverts. Our need to be alone can make us seem aloof, and I admit I can often feel contempt for the sheer silliness and superficiality of extraverts’ mindset.  I know my attitude to rules often strikes people as arrogant.  Paradoxically- the harder I try to ‘obey’ and fit in with ‘normal’ expectations, the more likely I am to stick out as non-compliant. Sullenness and sulkiness in teenagers is usually read as rebelliousness by teachers.  But I still fail utterly to understand how a studious and quiet student can end up being expelled for being this terrible rebel, and ringleader, which is what happened to me.
I have a huge problem with job interviews, even just the job-applications, because I say thoughtful (i.e weird and unexpected) things. I shoot myself in the foot by thinking out loud about some question they’ve asked me.
The books I’ve read say the INFJ personality is motivated by an overriding desire to be of service to others. This is so true of me.  Many times I’ve found myself in a situation where I am doing my utmost to help and support others, often sacrificing my real desires, and have found this totally misconstrued by people, especially those who are very power-oriented, (who can only understand other people as power motivated too.) I think I often come across as very strong because my thoughtfulness and ability to read complex situations (very INFJ) mean I can speak with clarity and weight. I have even- extraordinary thought!!! – been labelled as a power-crazy bitch in one situation. Can you imagine anything further from the nature of an INFJ? Why would I waste my time seeking power over others?

Now I live with my elderly mother as her carer – which means I can be of service without it being misunderstood. When I tell people I am doing it as much for myself as my mother they are just pleased, instead of suspicious. I can spend lots of time alone in my part of the house, quietly thinking and writing and being creative, without the financial pressure to go out and earn money which would distract me from my goals. And my social needs are fulfilled by taking part in activities with others that interest me, or by meeting friends on a one-to-one. INTROVERT HEAVEN!!!
My brother sent a CD of a concert he'd been to - Eternal Night  a requiem by Howard Goodall. He has taken poetry from all sorts of different people from different eras that have moved him and composed songs with them as lyrics for the whole requiem  
Here are three that particularly got to me. 



Track 3

Belief 
by Ann Thorp

I have to believe
That you still exist
Somewhere,
That you still watch me
Sometimes,
That you still love me
Somehow
I have to believe
That life has meaning
Somehow
That I am useful here
Sometimes
That I make small differences
Somewhere
I have to believe
That I need to stay here
For some time
That all this teaches me
Something
So that I can meet you again
Somewhere



Track 5
Lacrymosa dies ilia (that day will be a day of weeping)
Attributed to Mary Elizabeth Fry but adapted by Howard Goodall

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow,
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain,
I am in the morning hush,
I am the graceful rush
Of far-off birds in circling flight.

I am in every flower that blooms,
I am in still and empty rooms,
I am the child that yearns to sing
I am in each and every thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there- I did not die.


Track 13
Spared
by Wendy Cope
(Quoting Emily Dickinson: That Love is all there is
                                                Is all we know of Love)  
    
It wasn’t you, it wasn’t me,
Up there, two thousand feet above
A New York street. We’re safe and free
A little while, to live and love.

Imagining what might have been –
The phone call from the blazing tower,
A last farewell on the machine,
While someone sleeps another hour

Or worse, perhaps, to say goodbye
And listen to each other’s pain,
Send helpless love across the sky
Knowing we’ll never meet again.

Or jump together, hand in hand,
To certain death. Spared all of this
For now, how well I understand
That love is all, is all there is.  

Saturday 8 June 2013

I was tidying up the study for a friend who was coming to stay, and found another couple of poems  

This too was read out at the beginning of a session by another movement teacher. 

Lost

Stand still.  The trees ahead and the bushes beside you
Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here. 
And you must treat it as a powerful Stranger.
Must ask permission to know it and be known.
The forest breathes. Listen. It answers -
I have made this place around you.
If you leave it you may come back again, saying - Here.

No two trees are the same to Raven.
No two branches are the same to Wren.
If what a tree or bush does is lost on you
you are surely lost. Stand still. the forest knows
Where you are. You must let it find you. 

David Wagoner

What an absolutely yummy poem!!!!!!!
Long time since I've had time to post anything.
I've been working hard on getting my next novel ready to publish on Amazon- still a bit of a way to go. It's called the Crossing Place and is around 11,500 words - so not a magnum opus, but people have said they enjoyed it when I read it out to a couple of groups in SL.  I sold over 200 copies of Mitchie on the free promo - thank you all for getting it.  I did put an advert for it up on an online magazine, that cost me £100, just to see if that is a useful way to promote it- so far there is no evidence that it has sold a single copy since the ad went up.  I will have a short story coming out in the same magazine soon and there will be a plug for the book with that- so let's see if any of that has any effect. 

As I was just finishing the work on that story my movement teacher read a poem to us that just seemed to be what the story was about.  I actually thought the poem contained the words 'Crossing Place' but it is only 'crossing'. The story is about an event that causes six people who are caught up in it to make decisions that change the way they have been living, changes that have been long overdue, but they were unable to take the necessary steps until they had a bit of supernatural help. This poem is about how each of us is a kind of secretion from the interaction between our thoughts and what happens to us.



Stigmata.

The womb is the world. The child is made from all sides.
Throughout months, years. It is not me.
It is at the crossing of my thinking body and the flux of tiny living events.
that the thing is secreted.

Helene Cixous

Sunday 26 May 2013

The choice

Life is an unfurling.
The Choice 

To stand frozen
Immobilized by fear
And turn to unfeeling stone
A monument to
What you could have been.

Or

To stand fearless
And open to the sun
Letting each part
Warm and fill and
Blossom forth.
The infinity of the universe
Chiming its echo within.

And yet

Stone, iron-hard, retains
Its unchanging self
Withholding, it also withstands.
And
The living growing
Flower of being,
In times of cold or desiccation,
Has small precious parts
Chipped away

And forever lost.   


© Catherine Blackfeather

Saturday 25 May 2013

Well! not much sign of any poetry on this blogsite lately - have to do something about that!!!

I took a friend to visit Windsor Castle a couple of weeks back. As a local I can get in free- she's like that, the Queen- lets her mates in. Me and her - we're like that! you know. NOT
Anyway- my friend wanted to get this book of dragon poems for her friend back home and she got me one too, coz I went all starry eyed about the pics. Sorry- can't show you the pics but here is one of the poems. 


Happy Birthday, Dear Dragon


There were rumbles of strange jubilation
in a dark, subterranean lair,
for the dragon was having a birthday,
and his colleagues were gathering there.
'HOORAH!' groaned the trolls and the ogres
as they pelted each other with stones.
'HOORAH!" shrieked a sphinx and a griffin,
and the skeletons rattled their bones. 

'HOORAH!' screamed the queen of the demons,
'HOORAH!" boomed a giant. 'REJOICE!'
'Hoorah!' piped a tiny hobgoblin
in an almost inaudible voice.
'HOORAH!" cackled rapturous witches.
'Hooooorah!' hissed a basilisk too.
then they howled in cacophonous chorus,
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY,DEAR DRAGON,TO YOU!'

They whistled, they squawked, they applauded,
as they gleefully brought forth the cake.
"OH THANK YOU!"
he thundered with pleasure
in a bass that made every ear ache.
Then puffing his chest to the fullest,
and taking deliberate aim,
the dragon huffed once at the candles -
and the candles all burst into flame!

I had great fun reading this at a poetry circle in lots of different funny voices. 



Thursday 23 May 2013

I'm slowly picking my way through setting up an author profile page on amazon- huh! me? an author?? wow!! Anyway- I now have this URL: so i shall post it here and make of it what you will.
amazon.com/author/catherineblackfeather 

Wednesday 22 May 2013

OMG!!!!!! I have just published my first novel onto Amazon Kindle. 
I'm now torn between wanting lots of you out there to buy it and feeling embarrassed because of the 'adult content'. But I will say I enjoyed writing it and am quite proud of both the story and my handling of the erotic parts. I see it as kind of a Lesbian sexy Catherine Cookson kind of story. Make of that what you will hahahaa!

Here is the URL
 http://www.amazon.co.uk/Mitchie-ebook/dp/B00CXADBNS/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1369217673&sr=1-1&keywords=Catherine+Blackfeather

Thursday 9 May 2013

Looking back over my posts I realize that I intended to post up something for Bealtaine, but never did so.  Here are the prayers and poems I used at the virtual celebration I did in my virtual world, which is all my present life permits. 

BEALTAINE


You are passion and fire, my Lady. You are the joining of opposites that makes a whole. You are the heart's desire, the life's quest for the courage to be. 
You step through the woods as the birds calling out in song and bright plumage,  
as young life burgeoning in the den, 
as the green leaf on branch and field. 
Our hearts cry out in longing for you, Lady and Lord.  Our Beloved comes! 

Beloved

Every living thing calls out for its beloved 
Isn’t the heart a hunter?
Even the thistle flower turns to the sun
And opens herself, shuddering with pleasure,
To the moth’s delicate sipping.

Only unity,
Stepping into the moment, 
Opening to another,
Brings clarity,
Release,
And a touch of the divine.  

c. Cath Blackfeather/Dubhna Rhiadra

Two books published by friends- well- one by a very dear friend and one by a new-ish acquaintance. Both hugely enjoyable and well-worth getting.

One is another Trio of Tales by the lovely Judy Cullen (aka Caledonia Skytower in Second Life).
This is a trio of Cat Tales, two of which I have already been privileged to hear Cale reading- and she does that so well. I am looking forward to a quiet moment to read the third tale. Here is the URL. If you have a Kindle, download it NOW!!! If you love paper, than I think you can order a paper copy of it too, which is better really coz you can get to see the nice pic on the cover. Hmmmmm which shall I do? 
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Trio-Cat-Tales/dp/1484910931/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368111047&sr=1-1-fkmr0&keywords=Judy+Cullen+Trio+of+Cat+Tales

The second book is A Funny Way with Words, by John Lanyon et al ( I put his name coz he is the one I know, but his isn't top on the list of names on the cover. This is four guys who write poetry and are friends. Lots of it is funny, but some is just good. It's laid out in funky ways inside, and you don't know who wrote which poem, which is kind of cool- but I wanted to know so I could get an idea of the individuality of each of the poets. The four of them all fit together really well, there is a kind of boyish humour to them, lots of play on words and enjoying playing with different shapes and so on  - you know- that guy thing.  .I just sat and laughed, mulled and enjoyed myself immensely for a couple of hours on the train to London yesterday. Great for dipping into but I know I'm going to be bookmarking some and sharing them with friends at poetry groups in Second Life.  
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Funny-Way-Words-Rob-Stepney/dp/1902279484/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1368111407&sr=1-1&keywords=a+funny+way+with+words


Monday 6 May 2013

More poetry from movement. Miranda Tufnell's group workshops are proving to be a lifeline and a major source of inspiration, working with other movers and creators. 
http://www.mirandatufnell.co.uk/index1.html

This one is my take on another mover. 


Wild Calm


Quiet- I stand and breathe
Wild energy breathing through.
Fire dancing a quiet flame.
You won't know what wild exaltation dances in
This ecstatic soul.

A world within worlds
Where novas blast their light
Across aeons
And the echo of the first division of time and space
Can still be heard singing in
The tiniest insect's summer song. 



And here is one from my own work at the workshop:


Sheela-na-gig

I gather
I gather
I've sown 
And now I reap.
All this is mine
Dark and light.
I delve deep
And deep
And deep.
I bring it back from
Where it went.
It is not lost.
Nor am I.
For now I build
And weave my thread
Making anew.
Nothing is broken
Only waiting.
It is not lost.
And nor am I. 







Thursday 2 May 2013

Walking

The woman walks 
She walks
A hip-swaying
Loose-spine
Summer-day
Walk.

She don't
Come-hither,
Don't- you- want- me
Walk
Nor oh-I'm -so-scared-
They- might-look- at- me 
Walk.

She swaggers.
The woman swaggers.
She don't
Blokey-stiff-knees-
All-shoulders-
My-balls-are too-big
Swagger.

She
Swash-buckles
Horn-swoggles
I-own-my-street,
spine-unravel, breathe
And fill-my-space
Swaggers.

The crowd parts around her.
And the sun shines. 

Saturday 27 April 2013

I've always had a problem with evangelicals- not just the Christian type but anyone who feels the need to be totally in your face about their beliefs. That kind of loud, proclaiming, utterly self-convinced style of communication has always seemed to mask an empty person. I remember an encounter with some of them years back when I was trying to hire a room from some Elim Pentecostals for my Authentic Movement group. Fearing that if I mentioned the word 'dance' they would immediately assume I was going to play loud disco music (this was the normal reaction I got from church halls and such like)  I was at pains to tell them that we worked in silence and that it was 'meditational'. Well! Wrong word!! At the mere whiff of a hint that anything like 'meditation' might be occurring on their premises they closed up. 'Oooh no! we don't  hold with meditation' - said in the same kind of tones as one would normally expect for adultery or smoking weed.  Anyway- a couple of days ago I had a run-in with one of these people who started to pick on one of my friends. I made absolutely no headway in convincing this guy that he was quite wrong about said friend, as you never can with those types. But I did come up with this poem in the reflective aftermath. 


The Evangelist


He's a hollow man
All on the outside.
All noise and certitude.
His jaws clack-clack-clacking,
Everything is alright as long as he keeps talking,
Proclaiming. Filling the silence.

Because in silence there is space,
Emptiness, longing.
He shouts and no-one listens.
He knows the words by heart,
A well-worn groove,
That jumps and repeats repeats repeats.

His greatest terror lies within.
What lives in there leaves him
Trembling under the bedclothes
Scarcely breathing.
In the silence he hears their pant and shuffle.
The monsters of his deep.

That place his terror keeps at bay,
That unknown locked away room
In the attic of his soul contains
A  shriveled tiny seed,
Abandoned, alone, waterless,
Un-nourished, waiting waiting waiting

For a chink to open, a crack to appear,
To let in, maybe, oh! maybe!
A single ray of light.
And maybe, Oh! Let it be!
An ear, that finally listens,
And hears his own tiny desperate voice,
Calling "I am here!"






Tuesday 23 April 2013

Yay! I've just finished a new story. I still have to type it up, as I have found I can only write in long-hand on that weird stuff - what's it called? o paper!! Shows how old I am. 
Having suffered from severe issues over valuing my work - panic attacks when I tried to write anything, even frequently destroying anything I did succeed in writing - for a lifetime, I am amazed at how it is now flowing. The reason is purely because I now make sure to surround myself with people who say nice things and encourage me in my writing, instead of people who ... well .. just don't. 

I have long since realized that creativity is like a very young child, it needs to be nurtured and sheltered and protected from abuse, until it's ready to stand on its own two feet. And I have slowly learned to do that - especially with my dance work. I am very careful about who I share creative ideas with. As dance is usually a collaborative art, it is essential to work with carefully selected people who will help rather than hinder. I have rarely found that among professional dancers, who let their insecurity and competitiveness get in the way of collaboration. My way of dealing with that was to decide, quite deliberately, not to be part of the professional dance world. I worked in the community with people who had no background in dance. Everyone i worked with was there because they enjoyed the experience for its own sake, and I was able to make work our of the pure joy of it. I never made a penny out of it, and was still a comparative unknown in Wales where I worked in Community dance for over 25 years. But I am proud of the work I made.
  
But it is a revelation to me to find that in the writing world too. To discover that there are people out there who will give good feedback that comes from a positive place, and not just from that competitive place that makes people want to pick anything to pieces before it is ready to be exposed in that way. I'm not claiming to write great literature, but writing (and keeping) my stories and poetry gives me great pleasure,and I owe it all to my generous and supportive friends out there. You know who you are!!!!  
I'll let you know when I have got my self-confidence enough to start to publish to Amazon. And I'll let you know the name of the new story when I have thought of it. 

Sunday 21 April 2013


Invisible.

I’m dreaming.
I’m finding a way.
I seek.
Things shift and I find my footing.
All my feets.
This foot, that hand, this hand, that foot,
I roll and stay upright,
Chameleon, I vanish,
I’m in your sight
But invisible.

C Blackfeather. April 2013