Sunday, 23 June 2013


I'm going to a poetry night tonight!  Going to 'The Mythsummer Sundae' at Live Theatre (Newcastle Quayside) organised by Trashed Organ.  So today's poem is based on the theme of speaking.  I wrote this after watching this video:  It is Imtiaz Dharker reading her poem 'Honour Killing', which is about moving away from a culture.  My poem was inspired by hers, and is linked to an idea of the spoken word and what it represents, how it can be changed and how it can be manipulated.


Crumbled shell around swollen balloons,
a bone cocoon encases like a tomb.
Shell protects but ribs break,
collapsed lung, no longer speaking
in its mother tongue, breathy whispers,
exhale, Mother Nature’s blowy gales.
An open mouth, a nada, nothing,
bloody slug drags itself across
the lower lip, curving downwards
like a backwards wave releasing drips
in its concave, sound encumbered –
slow rumbling muffled thunder.

Thursday, 20 June 2013

Blood Brothers

Last night I went out with my boyfriend and his parents to see Blood Brothers in Newcastle.  His parents had got the tickets for my birthday so we went for a meal at The Big Mussel (if you haven't been - try it! Yum!) and then up to the theatre afterwards.  It was a fab show - Maureen Nolan was amazing, although we spent the whole night unable to figure out which Nolan it was.  The night made me think about doing some themed poetry writing.  So maybe once or twice a week I'll do a poem according to what I've been upto recently.  So, naturally, the theme this time is siblings.  I've written a very drafty poem - probably not finished (it's very short at the minute), but I guess that's what is interesting about this blog.  It will basically be an archive of all of my drafts, redrafts, and final pieces.  Hope you enjoy so far.


“I’ve got a new baby sister”, badge pinned to his chest

beside the school crest on a royal blue sweatshirt.

A protective older brother, an idol,

hero, sometimes rival.

Similar in form, like duplicate machines

they share the same shell,

DNA and cells, blood type, genes.

She is his copy, he her first best friend,

she follows his trail. He makes her mouth curve

and laugh as his does, but to a smaller scale.

 © Caitriona Hansen

Tuesday, 18 June 2013

Glastonbury - Why I'm Worthy

I saw an ad on Facebook to feature on a short film for The Guardian's series on what makes Glastonbury festival special.  It was for a first time festival goer (me!) and in order to secure the part I wrote a little rhyme (my email had to be 200 words long - what better use of 200 words than in a poem).  It wasn't quite 200 words, but here it is, and here is the link to the video too. Thanks to Cameron Robertson at The Guardian, who created the film.  His editing is fab and he was very patient with nervous little me! Hope you enjoy. 

Why I’m ‘Worthy’

It’s the end of my exams
The end of my degree
A massive celebration
At the massive Glastonbury!

A first timer coming
To sample all the fun
With anecdotes of former years
From every-bloody-one!

Coming from Newcastle
Miles and miles away
Once the week is over
I’m sure I’ll want to stay.

I can’t wait to dance my shoes off
And sing to every song
Make friends for one day only
And party all night long!

There’s 80 of us coming
Fancy dress everywhere
When you see us together
You’ll want to stop and stare.

The Rolling Stones are up there
The number one to see
I’ll be on my friends’ shoulders
As I’m only 5foot 3!

I would love to feature
On the glasto video
To tell you of our plans
To see Chic and dress disco!

© Caitriona Hansen

Monday, 17 June 2013



The nib, her tongue, poised, set to speak
to taste the paper, taste her chance, kiss it
make love to it, mark her love on it, unique.
She curves, kinks under my hand, love illicit.
My script is her garments, punctuation
is her jewellery. I am her body
she, still loyal to me despite her flirtation
with the page. People see me in her, my copy
her stories are make-up, her mask of me
the title is her perfume, an extra hint
through the flowing of her hair I am free
my mistakes are her own misprints.
But even with my power I limit us
my own mind stops, she falls and is lifeless.

 © Caitriona Hansen